Spring is just about here. (I'm trying to be realistic just in case there's another freak blizzard.) A young girl's fancy turns to... baseball? This has been going through my head all day. Clearly, I'm not young and you've probably never heard me mention baseball before. Not only that, it's probably softball anyhow.
For some reason the baseball mitts and balls have appeared in my living room. I'm not sure why the spawn have brought these out, where they found them, what they are doing with them, or why I still hope they will eventually put them away somewhere more sensible. In any case, there this items sit. Calling to me. Making me think random thoughts of games with bats, balls, and mitts.
A couple times a summer I may feel inclined to put on a mitt and play some catch. I may throw like a girl, but I like to throw hard. If there's no smoke coming out of the mitt, there's no point. If I can move my shoulder the next day, we didn't play long enough. The kids are afraid of me. (Might have something to do with my aim.) Hubby occasionally will play- let's be serious, he'll do whatever I ask him to do. He's that kind of accommodating. However, when we play, I can still feel my hand at the end. Not hard enough. Still... a bit diverting.
I got to thinking about my youth (this is where the young girl part comes in.) I grew up on a cul de sac, next door to the boy who was 7 days younger than me, but a year ahead of me in school, and up the street from a nice Irish boy. (It is St. Patrick's Day, after all. Had to mention that.) The three of us used to play this game (that I can't remember the name of) in the "circle". One person batted the ball, the other two fielded, then the batter laid down the bat, and the catcher rolled the ball to hit the bat. Great game! We had another game we played in the backyard. This one I do remember the name of- Rundown! There were two people playing catch and the third in the middle trying not to get tagged. I'm certain that I got caught a lot. I don't remember that, but I certainly do remember the fun.
Regarding baseball teams... of course I'm a Pirates fan. Alas, the same kind of Pirates fan as I am a Steelers fan. So when they are in the Playoffs, I'm watching. (not holding my breath) Now, back in the day, oh yea. I watched the Pirates. The day being when Chuck Tanner was coach. Dave Parker was a wild man. Willie Stargell was a gentleman. How could I not watch the Pirates? My dad hogged the TV, so that's what I had to watch. It's more painful to watch TV with my dad these days. He's a fanatical clicker. We get 10 minutes of baseball, 7 minutes of John Wayne, 8 minutes of Dirty Jobs. Makes my head spin. There's always something better to do at my house, so I don't even know which channel they broadcast the Pirates. I will find out if the World Series is a possibility.
My parents live in Altoona now, so they've taken us to see the Curve about once a year. Us being the girls, hubby and I. My mom is disinclined. The girls are way more interested in wandering about than in watching baseball. We did have fun watching the silly games and their mascot. Why can't I remember what the Curve mascot is? Something vaguely Grimace-ish. We stopped going to the Curve when the Spikes came to State College. I will say the Curve was more fun.
The first Spikes game we went to was for hubby's work party. We had a buffet and seats practically outside of the outfield. Not a lot of action out there. Trust me. I will tell you that one of the Spike outfielders of that season was a lying, cheating scumbag. He "fielded" a pop fly and raised his mitt in glory. No one knew any differently. No one in authority anyhow. We observant ones who were sitting beyond the outfield absolutely saw that ball hit the ground before his mitt. Yessirree, Bob. Lying, cheating, scumbag. It was a year or two before I permitted us to attend another game. The next game we sat in the real seats, near the food (and possibly there was a beer as well), where we didn't have to observe the action in the outfield. Instead we watched Ike the Spike do lascivious things with old ladies and the Nookie (what the heck kind of name is that?) dance for homeruns. Much more entertaining.
Hotdogs. I have to feed the only children on the planet who won't eat hotdogs. or macaroni and cheese.
Apple pie. Hubby makes the best apple pie in the world. That's all I have to say about that. Except that there was talk of pie recently.
Chevrolet. I learned to drive in a Chevy Citation. What a cute car. I loved that car. I will admit to being an idiot in the car many times. There was this great hill that was really not on my way to anywhere. But still I drove to the street just to go down that hill. If you were going fast enough when you hit the top of the hill the tires left the pavement. Roller coaster, baby! One time I was driving with some major appliance in the back (not actually an odd occurrence in my youth), and cruised that hill. The box hit the roof. I'm probably lucky it didn't go through the roof. And once there was a mound of dirt in the parking lot of the church. Yup, I had to go over it. My dad wondered a bit how the tail pipe got bent and why there was dirt in it. I suspect he knew who the culprit was. I may have admitted it. On the other hand, I may not.
One more thing. Three Rivers Stadium. I may never have been inside (which is debatable), but I was sad to see it go. It was representative of the goodness of youth, when Pittsburgh was home and the home team was black and gold.
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