The fever is in the air.
The other night my husband and I were out to dinner with neighbors we see mostly when they’re walking their dog by our house. Living on the same street for over a decade and not knowing people’s particular quirks is a hallmark of the ‘burbs.
So as we’re seated in a cozy, local Italian restaurant, the wife stakes out a seat facing the TV and expresses vocal relief that she won’t be missing the Mets game. It’s the final game of the division series, they’re playing the Dodgers, and I’m a Yankee fan so I don’t fight her for the view. My season is done.
The restaurant staff are fans of serving diners on a busy Saturday night so they promptly shut off the TV as we’re seated in front of it. They might as well have stuck a fork in her eye.
She begged wait staff and management alike to put the game back on – leave off the sound, who needs the sound? – but they just smiled professionally and brought us more bruschetta. She threw her arms in the air and wailed, “Would it hurt anyone to have the game on? I mean, really, would it hurt?”
Throughout the meal, the neighbor received cell phone updates from her daughter about missed plays and base hits. We called the dinner in the fourth inning.
Baseball is the great equalizer. Either you care or you don’t. Either you’ve sat through your children’s Little League games or you still think most adults are capable of rational behavior.
My own daughter went away to school in Boston and became a Red Sox fan. Can you BECOME a Red Sox fan? Isn’t it more like sexuality, determined at birth? More baffling, she returned to New York after graduating and went BACK to rooting for the Yankees. AND the Red Sox. Even Brad had to choose between Jen and Angelina.
Baseball games are ongoing battles with a beginning and an end. The rules are defined, leaders emerge, and although the deserving don’t always win, there is always a clear winner. Best of all, everyone knows which side they’re on. In times like these, when we’re helpless to stop the real fighting or even unanimously identify the enemy, I’ll sacrifice the seat facing the screen to a loyal fan any day.
(In memory of Cory Lidle, Yankee and Met, whose plane crashed in NYC the day after this was written)