But I’m feeling the pressure of knowing we burn fossil fuels 1000 ways in order to entertain our poor selves so I think it’s time for a big change.
Also, I can’t sit outside in the sun for long spells anymore, let alone watch a ball player run around in long pants without feeling a steady bead of sweat run down the back of my underwear.
So maybe I’ll sit on the porch instead of in front of the TV and think about how to save money for this winter’s heating bills.
And maybe after I’ve got that figured out, instead of watching grown men on TV drive around an oval 400 times in gas-guzzlers while wearing three layers of fire-retardant underwear, I’ll watch World Series reruns and provide my own play-by-play.
It should be easy, and with less pressure.
It’s 6:30 on a Friday night in San Francisco and the two league champions are walking onto the field for what should be an exciting first game out of seven to decide the World Series baseball champion.
But why we call it the World Series I’ll never know.
Teams from all over the world don’t even play in the National or American Leagues.
And as far as I’m concerned, if a team from Europe wanted to play in the American League I bet we’d tell them to forget about it and say, go back home and play your own game and don’t forget to take the horse you rode into town on.
Davey Johnson is on the mound tonight for the Giants and he’s waiting for the ball.
He’s digging his right heel into the ground as if he’s going to drop a few seeds into a hole. That would be funny wouldn’t it, Don? [Don is my colour commentator.]
You know, Gord, I’ve never seen a pitcher drop seeds into those holes they always seem to make to grab a toe-hold out there but in my personal experience there’s always a first time for everything.
You’re so right, Don. Davey has only got the resin bag out there, he hasn’t been tossed the ball yet, so why not just drop a few seeds into the ground while he’s waiting. It wouldn’t hurt anybody. He could talk to the groundskeeper after the game, make arrangements to water the seeds, and maybe by the third game he’d get some sprouts out there.
Wait. The catcher is getting into his crouch and may throw the ball out to Johnson at any moment.
Don, I think catching is the toughest position in baseball.
He has to crouch like that for three outs every inning, give signals, catch the ball, throw it back to the pitcher after every pitch, even fire it to second every once in awhile, all from that tiring position.
Why, my knees would give out by the end of the second inning. What do you think, Don?
I think you’re right, Gord. I’d be done in like dirt by the end of the second inning too. Maybe even sooner.
Gord? Does the pitcher have the ball yet?
Why, yes he does, Don. While you were talking the catcher tossed a ball out to the mound and we’re getting ready to start the game.
As you can see, folks, Davey Johnson is now rubbing the ball against his pants and looking around the infield to see if every player is ready to start the game. And I think they are.
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See? Easy and no pressure.
I bet there are 1000s of other things I could do with my time, enjoy the shade and save fossil fuels at the same time.
Are there other fine traditions we can do without? What would we do instead?
Visit It Strikes Me Funny to link to bigger issues at OIL CHANGE
Next week: One last lap around the Brickyard with Gord and Don
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