My wife often reminds me of the night when I was trying to watch a World Series Game back in '96 and the dog was jumping and Matt who was just a toddler for crying out loud, was screaming, and Joe Buck was talk, talk, talking so much that I didn't know what was going on...
"SOMETHING HAS TO CHANGE!" I bellowed.
A few minutes later, all was quiet as the dog curled up and Kathy and Matt left the room.
Cut to last night's game...
Bottom of the first two outs and Tex up. Buck has told me that it's 52 degrees - for the 7th freaking time - Paris is chasing Sam in a circle around the kitchen - Jake is poking me in the ribs asking me why Jeter struck out - Kathy is thinking about setting the DVR when the inning is over, Matt is growling that Burnett sucks and is going to throw three wild pitches. McCarver explains that it's a must win even though the Yankees have routinely won the series after being down two games to zip... yada, yada, bullshit, headache.
Tex swings over a curve out of the strike zone.
"He struck out too," Jake said, poking, poking, poking.
"It's 52 degreees at 8:33," Buck-hole says.
My mind does a flip.
"Would you like to see it stay scoreless?" Jake asks.
"I'd like to see," I said, pausing and looking for the right words, "Your butt in bed."
"Ewww! Mom! Dad wants to see my butt in bed!"
Yet, I did not say something had to change. Instead, calmly, I reached across and laughed with Jake. I let Sam finish his dog-dork race, and I took a deep breath, knowing that whatever I was feeling could be handled.
I hit the mute button, of course, and we watched the next inning with Buck and McCarver silenced.
Turns out - they were the only thing that was truly bugging me back in '96.
Let's say it together now:
THE YANKEES WIN! THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHE YANKEES WIIIIIIIIN!
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