Tampa Bay Rays
Because I live in San Antonio, I watch some of the Spurs, especially playoffs, because, well, it’s like a religion. There’s also the Dallas Cowboys, but less said is better. Still, treat these like a religion — not just sport franchises. There’s a pantheon, rites, and offerings to the deities. There’s an even better illustration of this, but I can’t access the files at the moment, it was a local TexMex place, the sign read, “Closed Sunday and Spurs Games.”
So the girlfriend looks at me, “Want to go to the World Series? In Dallas? Might be the only time I can ever go.”
Sure, I mean, yeah, sure, fine.
Going to the World Series, well, one game. Game Three.
I was reiterating how this unfolded, to a buddy not named “Bubba,” and he asked where the playoffs were, and I suggested it was Tampa Bay and, the well, the World Series will be in Dallas. Either Dodgers or the Braves. Fell to the Dodgers, and that means we’re definitively cheering for Tampa Bay.
“You know,” he said, “the Tampa Bay Rays, their stadium had just opened at the beginning of Florida Roadkill, you remember, that’s the one where he kills the guy by shrinking jeans on him. In the bathtub.”
So I am much amazed by that boy’s command of material, and that book series is now into 23 books?
“Yeah, that was in the first one, you know, when,” then he rattled off bits and pieces, fragments of the story and plot.
Tenuous Tampa Touchpoint.
So off to Dallas for a quick trip to the ballpark, with tenuous, at best, Tampa Bay touch. Here’s to hoping they win.
Socially distant, doing everything right. 4 seats, 3rd base line, the majesty of the game. Think it’s a quarter stadium capacity.
The California stadium, San Diego? Was closed to any visitors, but the new stadium in Dallas (Arlington) is operating at something like one-quarter capacity.
With the current political turmoil, the world on edge, and the pandemic roiling through lives, we all need a break.
Go Tampa Bay Rays?