Bas-e-boru!

My BIL's mom always cracked me up around baseball season - little Polish knitter,eating cheese and drinking tea, making her afghans and boxy sweaters out of cheap-ass Red Heart crap yarn all the while watching her Yankees. Her beloved, wonderful 'Yin-kiss'. I have to admit that I've always enjoyed the sound of wood on leather too, as a small white projectile is launched into outer space (or at least the parking lot).

My work buddy, R and I talk baseball a lot and he thinks it's funny that I know so much (or anything, for that matter) about the game. Obviously, he's never sat with a little old lady from Krakow and a ball of yarn, as she critqued coaches and players alike. He's not the history buff that I am, either - just finished a great bio about Sandy Kofax - such a mensch!. I was really happy when he (R, not Kofax) invited me to play on his team this summer. they play twice a month and the best part is the locale - Yes - Lynx effin' stadium (or whatever they call it now. A real field with other guys (yeah there's only me and another person with boobs...well, except for the occasional man-boob, I suppose but I digress) who love the game.

The sad fact is I realized how much older I was than R when we talked about our all time baseball hero and I blurted out "the one, the only, Bill freaking Lee!". R (who's Cantonese) asked 'is he Chinese?' Man, I laughed so hard the IT freaks I work with popped their heads out over the tops of their cubicles like some giant game of whack a Mole. Where's my mallet, boys, where's my mallet?