February 20th, 2007


Don't ask me... ask Barry!

Usually I don't notice that baseball exists until about... August (need July to recover from the Stanley Cup Final, lech at the babies in the draft). But because I got more into baseball last season and I now listen to sports talk radio almost daily, and there's a whole circus surrounding Barry Bonds (and Barry Zito, to a lesser extent) I've noticed the bizarre rite known as "spring training".

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I have to admit that going to a Giants game and watching Zito or Matt Cain pitch, getting a hot dog and garlic fries (or maybe a hot fudge sundae! *faints*) sounds like a nice time to me (ignoring the part where I'll be freezing my ass off in June and that, oh yeah, it's the Giants :P).

I enjoy going to A's games more, but SF does have a newer park and it's so near. I could even walk there from my office except that I totally wouldn't cos' it would mean walking through Bummage Central. I would just pick up the super cheap $10 seats (nosebleeds, not bleachers. I'm terrified of the bleachers because I think a ball will hit me. I know that's why people like to be there, but I don't like it when things are thrown at me).

I sense some sort of massacre coming in the Oilers/Senators game.
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