Who can dispute America’s trinity?
Isaac Newton’s red muse tucked and steaming inside a flaky golden crust. A fusion of every meat scrap from the butcher’s floor laid a bed of bread. And the manna from sports heaven, baseball. All things beautiful and wholesome and, yes, American, are linked to this longsuffering game of tosses, catches and swings.
Or is it?
Michael Jackson’s scarecrow rendition of “You Can’t Win” echoed through my mind today as my thoughts fell on the Ranger’s World Series’ loss. The song is the evil mantra that keeps knocking Texas teams a hair shy of glory.
Da-da-da-daaaaaaa.
There are some new heroes in town.
Ummm. . .they can’t fly. Or run faster than a speeding bullet. Or shoot lasers from their eyes.
But they wield bats. Wear something eerily close to tights. And have come to save the folks of Dallas from another year of pitiable sports teams. (more…)
Before I left Boston, I had one final task: to experience a Red Sox game. Now, I must admit, I’m not a fan of baseball. Nor am I a fan of the Red Sox. I just felt that it would be a crying shame for me to return to my home in Dallas without experiencing the activity of which so many Bostonians proudly partake. (more…)
