Tonight is my seventh inning stretch. While the Sheehan men will be nail biting in front of a TV tuned to the Red Sox game, I will not.
I will not be joining Jim, Will, Ben, and Dick Vitale in yelling “Stock Up” or “Stock Down”. I will not be wearing my Red Sox cap in the just so manner of the superstitious men in my midst. They are sure the fate of tonight’s game four of the American League playoff rests on the feng shui of their caps. This may be so, but I will not be there to supervise cap placement.
No thoughts of baseballs, soccer balls, basketballs, or footballs will cross my mind tonight. Why?
Because, tonight, Emily is coming home for her freshman year October break. I have no idea what we will be talking about, but it won’t be anything like the conversations that percolate through our home now that the ratio of men to women in this household has taken a turn into serious y chromosome territory.
With Emily out of town, it has been a fifty day marathon.
A sports marathon.
I have learned more about Dice-K, Coco Crisp, Manny Ramirez, and Big Poppy than I thought humanly possible.
I also know the roster of the Chelsea Football Club. I too ponder the mystery of Roman Abramovich firing Chelsea’s coach, Jose Mourinho. Ronaldinho is a name that slips easily off my lips and I know that he has decided to stay at F.C. Barcelona through the end of his contract in 2010.
On Sunday morning, I was vetted for Patriot Nation taking on America’s team in Dallas. Memories of Tom Landry were bandied about for my edification, I was given a notable explanation for why the Patriots would beat the Cowboys, an explanation made all the more memorable because it was delivered by a Red Sox fan kept up til 2 am the night before by a brutal lost to the Cleveland Indians in the eleventh inning.
Sometimes, I am an innocent bystander, absorbing this information because there is just no escaping it. Sometimes, I have no one to blame but myself. Last Saturday, before the Red Sox Game and before the Patriots game and after a soccer game attended by me and the Sheehan men, I made the mistake of asking Jim and Will what kind of basketball team the UConn Huskies would have this year.
What insanity! I was the first to mention another kind of ball!! Before this moment, the men had been winding down in their enthusiasm about baseball-football-soccer talk. The atmosphere in the car had grown mellow. Some of us might even have nodded off. But no, I mention a fourth type of ball!
So, my first error was mentioning a fourth kind of ball. My second error was mentioning basketball when we still had an hour car ride ahead of us. And I thought baseball had a lot of statistical analysis! All I can say is I hope the Huskies get their offense on track!
But let’s get back to the topic at hand, the seventh inning stretch. Emily’s break is just a pause in the action. I will be back to hearing about the Rockies’ line up next week and Sundays from now til eternity will mean Patriots football, but during the next few days I will be in a haze of girl talk.
I am not sure I remember what girl talk involves, but I am ready to get right in there and toss the conversational ball around like a pro!
Oh my gosh, I need this seventh inning stretch worse than I thought!