breathing room

Last week was definitely one tough motha. I need to be better about posting, but most of the people who visited my last post don’t even know I have this one, thanks to the bums at mblog.com.

Did I already say last week was a bear? Crazy. There’s no other word to describe it, barely room to turn around and catch my breath, let alone spend any time with Brandi. Any free time I had was devoted to schoolwork (that’s right), and fretting over the Cardinals almost being eliminated by the Astros, then killing them, then starting off the World Series in pitiful fashion. I’m not impressed. Anyone who’s watching the world series that hasn’t watched the Cards all year is thinking, “Is this for real? How could they even be half as good as the announcers say they are? How did this team win 105 games.” Very disappointing, and embarrassing, and gut wrenching.

I can’t explain it, I don’t know why the fate of the Cardinals effects me so much. The only thing I can imagine is that my Dad and Grandpa engrained the baseball values of life into me starting at a very young age. I went to my first Cardinals game when I was a month old. Since then I’ve probably been to nearly 75 or so more. That’s a lot of trips to the ball park, and never did I dread going. It was always fresh, always felt new and exciting every time. To this day going to the ballpark isn’t boring. People think I’m crazy when I tell them my favorite sport to watch is baseball, no matter which team is playing.

“What?, but it’s so slow and boring, how can you sit and watch 3 hours (more if it’s an American League team (not real baseball)) without wanting to put a gun to your head?

The answer to that question? I just can.