Bar baseball

I love baseball. Duh, right? Well, tonight, I had a reminder of how much the game is ingrained into my sub-conscience while drinking a couple of pints of Guinness at one of the few places in the DC area that actually knows how to pour a pint - Four P's in Fairfax or Falls Church or whatever Virginia suburb it's in.

Sportscenter was hanging over the bar, and a couple of guys were sort of watching it in that way you watch something when you're with someone and you find your eyes automatically moving towards the television regardless of how interesting the conversation you're having. I watched them with interest because I saw how they were both trying NOT to watch, but they couldn't help it. (And really, when there is no game on, why is it necessary to have the television on instead of allowing good conversation?) Then, I heard the word "baseball" and could no longer concentrate on my own conversation.

Sure, my conversation was on the potential for war with Iran and the fact that my god, at least we are talking to them now! Then we switched to the Iraq topic, commenting about how the "surge" was not a surge of new troops but 20,000 poor soldiers who have all been to Iraq once, twice, and even three times. But that word baseball, well, it pulled me away from the harsh realities of living in 21st century America and brought me to a place where I could remember the sweet pleasures that life has to offer.

It's funny how that one word can alter your activities and thoughts and feelings and mood and blood pressure and breathing...