Day 3: Coming to you live from a new MAC
Ladies and gentlemen, we have entered a new age. A world of virus-free, tuxedoed beauty. Welcome to MacBook world. Maybe Apple should run the science world too if they are able to keep computers from getting attacked by viruses much like the PC. We have been PC owners for years and MacBook owners for mere minutes but I can already see why the jump is worth it. I think the best part of the purchase is the lack of $150 worth of anti-virus software… sorry to all you folks at Norton. Anyway, I digress from the blog I hadn’t started. Let’s keep in short and sweet today. The market was up today which is beautiful. No need to go into discussion there—as the saying goes, if it ain’t broke, someone is hiding the crack with scotch tape. We are quickly arriving at the greatest day of the year, Opening Day. It has been a tumultuous off-season with all of the steroid discussion and the oh-so-clean-cut A-Rod admitting to his use. Another one bites the dust. But there is something about the sport itself that is so refreshing. Think about heading to the park, getting a hot dog, a beer, and trying to balance everything in your baseball glove—the same glove you must have in case a foul ball heads your way. You head to your seat, feel the sun beating down on you (or a frigid wind if you are at Wrigley in April) and you remember playing little league. You had your dreams of playing out there one day, telling people you would pay someone to actually play in the majors. But now, you can sit and enjoy America’s pastime, a game played across America for well over 100 years. You stand up and remove your favorite team’s hat as they sing the National Anthem and relish in the fact that no other country has an anthem whose last two words are “Play Ball!” First pitch smacks the leather of the catcher’s mitt and you know the next three hours are dedicated to baseball. You still wait to hit the restroom until the middle of the inning, even when the lines are 30 people long… just so you don’t miss a single pitch. You will then grab the max number of beers and awkwardly run back to your seat and collect your buddy’s cash without either one looking down to count the money. And I don’t care how old you are, you still get excited about the 7th inning stretch. You yell out your team’s name in place of “home team” no matter what stadium you are in. You boo if the guest singer screws up the words, singing louder the worse they are. Now we come into the last 2 innings and you have one beer for every guy with you… sales stopped at the 7th and each guy bought 2. Now you really settle in for the rest of the game. Cheering louder in a close game, more trash talking to whoever is on the field closest to you. There is a good chance you will never get to those beers because you are caught up in the excitement. So the game ends. Last out is called and everyone files for the door. High-fives if you won, talking about bad calls if you lost. Where are you heading? If you are in Chicago, head to a local bar in Wrigleyville. This is just the beginning of a great Saturday kicked off by an afternoon game.
Enjoy the game. Players and their issues come and go, but your memories and enjoyment of the game can always be pure. Besides, it is easier to eat a hot dog than to put a needle in your butt. And more masculine.
Wine of the dayRed: Alamos MalbecWhite: DaVinci Pinot Grigio
