Idiots Write About Sports

My wife, in addition to being a kind-hearted woman, a fabulous intellect and quite the looker, also aids and abets my baseball habit. At her place of employ, the Powers That Be have a mess of tickets to Southern California baseball games for wooing advertisers and the like. Occasionally, no wooing is to be done on a given evening, and tickets that normally would have gone to VIPs are released to the ordinary folk. My wife has developed an enviable skill at pouncing on those tickets the moment they are offered up to the masses, which means I’ve gotten to see more than my share of baseball gratis this season.

If it’s possible to have greater love and admiration for such a woman, I can’t figure out how.

Anyways, I got a call about 4 p.m. this afternoon from the wife, wanting to know if I would be interested in tickets to tonight’s Dodger-Giant tilt down at the Stadium. I believe some sort of divisional title is at stake.

I thought about going. I really did. But it would’ve meant braving L.A. traffic and attending the game all by my lonesome, which occasionally is not too much of a hardship but not tonight. Plus, I have a feeling I’d spend more time staring at the out-of-town scoreboard than the action on the field.

So I declined. A co-worker of my wife’s will be attending instead, and she will be taking her son, who is doubtlessly more interested in watching the Dodgers possibly clinch a divisional title than I could ever be. So it all works out in the end.

At least, that’s what I’ll be telling myself until the game in Oakland turns ugly for the A’s and Bonds goes four-for-four with three home runs.

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