As I said goodbye to my Dad today, he asked, “So, ‘Go Clemens tonight, huh?’”
I looked back at him with a look of weariness on my face, and I said the following:
“You know what? Fuck baseball. Seriously. Fuck baseball.”
I could have gone on to say Fuck the following:
Bed Selig, The New York Tabloids, The Yankees Bullpen, Michael Kay, Joe Buck, Peter Gammons, …
Fuck all them because they’re the short list of things that’s taken the fun out of baseball for me ever since I started going to Bard.
It would have kept going on. I didn’t think, then, that I’d be where I am now: about to sit down to watch the Yankees take on the Twins, who I saw play at the Homer Dome less than a year ago.
Fuck me.
