I’ve never cared for baseball. My favorite part of the game is sitting in the sun, sipping a beer and having a polish dog — I could care less what’s going on in the game. Maybe it’s because the first pro-game I witnessed was the KC Royals, who have a great park, but even I understand they absolutely suck (when your marketing campaigns consist of phrases such as “I believe” you know you need help).
My first trip to NYC (and the only thus far) happened to coincide with the 2004 World Series… I believe it was game 3 when the Yankees were still on their winning streak — only needing one more game to wrap this year’s series up in a nice, tidy package and go home. I’ve never seen such camaraderie as I saw in the bar we happened to stop in trying to catch the UT/Auburn game (or UT and someone).
Over the next few days, I continued to watch how the series wrapped up, Sox coming back and kicking butt, and I almost found myself getting excited, and rooting for the underdogs — Break the Curse of the Bambino!!
All in all, I still consider baseball to be a boring game. But, given the right atmosphere (i.e. alcoholic daze), a ballgame is a great way to pass the time.
