Baseball’s October frenzy, also known as the World Series, is over. Chicago’s White Sox won. And more than one media interview said it was a team effort. I believe it.
In fact, it was such a team effort that Earl and I watched all the post-season games together. Now this may not sound like an earth shattering team effort, but it is. Because Earl and I, a team of two, NEVER watch television together. Our personal tastes get in the way.
He’s prone to cops and robbers or, barring that, talking heads. I’m not sure which is the worse offender. Me? I’m prone to PBS and CMT. For the unfamiliar, that’s the Public Broadcasting Station and Country Music Television. It’s about performing rather than opining.
Most weeks out of the year, both of us shake our heads at the other’s choices; but for the better of three weeks this October we sat mesmerized together in the family room cheering for Konerko and Dye and Jenks. Most of all, cheering for Ozzie.
We laughed together when Ozzie made his signals for the big, fat guy. Or the little guy. We poured over the Chicago Tribune headlines with their double entendre meanings. And we almost cried when the Sox did it in Houston, a clean sweep.
In a way, I’m sad that baseball is over; because for three weeks of brisk autumn nights Earl and I sat together and reveled in a common commitment to see the White Sox through to the bitter end. The fact that the end was sweet instead will not deter us from returning to our respective evening interests.
Leave a Reply