Not Everything That Counts Can Be Measured

It’s hard for me to avoid baseball this time of year. My husband and his family are big baseball fans. My dad obsessively watches the Phillies. Many of my closest friends are big baseball fans as well.

It’s not that I hate baseball. I just find it to be very slow. It makes me sleepy. My dad used to watch Phillies games on Sunday afternoons while dozing on the couch. I think I’ve been conditioned to do the same thing. Besides, it’s a game of numbers and statistics. And we all know that I hate statistics.

Tonight, one of those statistics should have been but never came to be due to human error. Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga pitched what should have been the 21st perfect game in history. However, when umpire Jim Joyce blew a call on what should have been the last play of the game, his perfect game was blown.

What unfolded after these events is what truly surprised me.

When the press interviewed these two men, they both acted in ways that were refreshing in this day and age. In a time when we have athletic stars who are overpaid egomaniacs, Galarraga smiled and told reporters that he was sure that no one felt worse about the call than the umpire. Here is a guy who had a chance to be a positive historical statistic, make a name for himself and ensure his induction as a hall of fame player. The odds of him ever accomplishing such an achievement again are nil. Most people would be angry, not smiling and practically saying that they felt bad for the guy who made the mistake.

Also, in a society where people are quick to pass the buck and refuse to be accountable for their actions, Jim Joyce remorsefully owned up to his mistake. He admitted that he was wrong at the time of the call. With instant replay, it was easy to see. But in person, from his perspective, perhaps it was not as clear-cut. He’s just a man with his two eyes. Men make mistakes. Great men admit them.

This is the kind of sportsmanship we always teach but rarely see in practice. This is a great lesson for our children. Galarraga’s sportsmanship teaches empathy and to see things from the other person’s point of view when facing conflict. Joyce shows us that admitting our wrongs is the right thing to do.

This is the stuff fables are made of. Sure, this will not go down in the records as a historical moment. But the way the men interacted teaches a lesson far beyond statistics.

Battle of the B Grade Sports ~or~ Why I Would Rather See Pro Lacrosse Than Arena Football

Tonight I saw my first arena football game. Ok, it was a minor league kind of deal (The Reading Express) and I had a good time bonding with my assistant. It was her idea to go and she invited me along. I used to think that arena football was played in warehouses or something. It was also the playoffs and they lost miserably. Overall, it was an ok experience. I'd probably go again. But this was not nearly as good as a Philadelphia Wings game, not by a long shot.

Here are my top ten reasons why.

1. Arena football seriously lacks hot Canadians. Arena football players don't say "eh." They probably don't listen to Rush. And they're not nearly as cute.

2. Arena football players don't go drinking with you after the game. Sure, you're allowed on the field to get autographs, but so what? You could have a hot Canadian lacrosse player not only sign a beer coaster, but possibly pass along his spare free drink tickets, especially if he happens to be on the wagon that particular week.

3. They don't pray after a lacrosse game. They run a victory lap. Isn't that more exciting to watch? And let's suppose there really is a God. Do you really think he gives a shit about an arena football game?

4. You can't get crab fries at the Sovereign Center. 'Nuff said.

5. Arena football players are a bunch of pussies. There's no fighting. The refs are too quick to step in. It's sometimes cathartic to watch one obnoxious jerk off pound the crap out of another obnoxious jerk off. Pro lacrosse players also pummel the shit out of each other with big sticks. You can also steal these sticks and dance with them at the bar after the game.

6. Arena football players don't burn flags.

"Chrissy! That's not the PC thing to say! And besides, he wasn't burning it, he was dancing on it to put the flames out."

Ok, ok. You can scratch that one.

6. There aren't any hood rats running around at pro lacrosse games. I watched these two little brats run all over the place, nearly knocking over people carrying beer, completely oblivious to anything but themselves. If they were my kids, they'd be on leashes.

7. My mascot could kick your mascot's ass. First off, it took me for forever to realize that Loco, the Reading Express' mascot is a retarded blue pony. Then the fucking smelly bastard stood right in front of me, blocking my view of the game and flashed gang signs to the hood rats. He's blue, so I'm guessing he's a Crip. He sat down then. His fat head continued to block my view. I wanted to kick him. Mad Dog would kick this fucker's ass.

8. The Reading Express' half time entertainment is lame lame lame. They did this stupid dance contest to Kylie Minogue's version of "The Locomotion." And the dance they did was dumb. It was your basic roll your arms in circles and make that pulling motion like you're tooting a horn. Goofy. Just goofy.

9. In pro lacrosse, the music continues while the ball is in play. I can't think of another sport that does that. And it adds to the excitement. It keeps you involved.

10. The music is also better in pro lacrosse. At the Express game, they played a lot of rap and old school dance shit. Lacrosse music rocks! They play more classic rock and alternative. I guess that's just a personal preference. But please, who really wants to hear the fucking Humpty Dance?

I know. I sound sour. I really had a good time overall. But in a lot of ways, it made me miss lacrosse season. I guess if I didn't have anything to compare it to, I probably would have liked it a lot more. It just fell short by comparison in my mind

Michelle Kwan

I'm really disappointed that Michelle Kwan is dropping out of the Olympics.

I was hoping she'd skate and fall on her ass.

Honey, it's not our fault that none of your 3,000 skating outfits match your bronze or silver medals. That's more than most people have. They mean you're talented.

Fucking diva.