Minor League Baseball

I learned some interesting things about baseball games and everything that surrounds them. I'll start at the beginning.

I rode the bus up to San Jose, tragically, without much drama (though I am assembling some interesting observations on NPTP), and walked the .7 mile to the San Jose Municipal Stadium.

My group showed up, eventually, and we went inside. The group is some of the homeschoolers who graduated from 8th grade at the same ceremony as myself, and most of whom will be graduating from high school with me as well. Actually, the main organizer didn't come in right away, because he was waiting for one of the girls, who was bringing a bunch of people with her. I was sitting with Matt, who I walked off the stage with in 8th grade (we wanted to jump, but that got nay-sayed), and on the other side was some mother who I didn't know. Before we were even inside the building though, we saw at least one interesting person. There were other marginally interesting people, but one who was an obvious choice. This man was Caucasian, between 50-55, 5'10", with shoulder-length grayish-blonde hair. He was wear a purple tank-top that looked half a size too small, and cut-offs that suggested they were not designed for a person of his size. His tank top, which was really unflattering, showcased his strikingly hairy arms. I have pretty hairy arms, and even by my standard, this guy was hairy. He was also pushing a stroller, with nothing in it. My biggest question, why have a large stroller like that? It looked fairly new, and nice. This guy confused me.

Inside the stadium, once we got our seats, on the away team's side, we all rose for the National Anthem. This was, perhaps, the most disgusting National Anthem ever. The singing was nice, though a little echo-y, due to the warehouses around the stadium. One member of the Stockon Ports however, did not have proper respect for the Anthem. He was standing in the line of players, all facing the flag, and he had each of his hands firmly planted on one of his teammates' butt cheeks on either side of him. One of the them was just accepting the reality of the situation, while the other kept brushing the hand away. The guilty party seemed to be relishing his teammate's discomfort, because he ratched things up a notch, and started spanking them. When the Anthem, perhaps the longest one ever, finished, all three of the involved parties turned, red-faced, and one of the fans shouted something to them, and the guilty party gave him a little smile. My theory was that there was some kind of bet, but it was hard to tell. Hilarious, but really awkward, and a little innapropriate.

The game was ok, and it was great to talk with friends. It was interesting seeing how the population differed from a major league game. Less drunk people, more families. The drunk people were louder, and the families left earlier. I also accomplished a personal goal, I got on the Jumbo-tron. I happened to be wearing a sombrero at the time.

One more thing. I want to rave about In Defense of Food  by Michael Pollan. This book is, to some degree, a follow up to The Omnivore's Dilemma, just more practical. The concept I most enjoyed is the mystery of food, how we don't know what makes certain foods good for us. We, as partakers of nutritionism, try to find things in foods that are good for us, isolate them, and put them in other foods. When we eat it, we find out that particular nutrient doesn't do the same thing when it is isolated. I really like this idea, and really loved his concrete rules for eating. Eat food. Not a lot. Mostly plants.

I want to leave you with that.
Thanks for reading, good night!