Posts tagged ‘Astros’

Four Strikes and He’s Gross

Baseball is kind of a big deal right now. The World Cup is over so all soccer chatter can stop, Lebron is done wasting everyone’s time with ridiculous ESPN specials, college football hasn’t started yet. Right now, it’s all about America’s Favorite Pastime.

I’m sad to say that baseball has taken a backseat in my life since I was in high school and college. Gone is the girl who’d watch every Astros game. Gone is the girl who memorized the University of Texas roster. Gone is the girl who could remember stats and heights and relationship status and socks up versus socks down. I’m no longer that girl. Life happened. A boy came along and took my attention, then work came along and took my free time.

Now don’t get me wrong. I still hold on to that deep love of the game. You can’t lose that. I still love the crack of the bat, the stitches on a ball, the contrast of the chalk line on the dirt. I love the game to my very core, I just don’t obsess anymore.

I come from a line of baseball lovers. My Papa loves the game and instilled that love to two of his three daughters… one of them being my mom. From a young age I loved watching baseball. Maybe at the beginning it started out more as a love for Sour Powers and snow cones during my brother’s little leagues games. Regardless, I loved to be at the game just like my mom.

Every year my mom buys about 4 tickets to a few Astros games throughout the season. Just enough to get her fill. I don’t know if you’ve heard or not but the Astros aren’t doing so hot this season. They lose a lot. So when she realized that she had tickets to the game last Sunday when the Astros took on the Cardinals, she decided she’d rather not go. So she gifted her tickets to her poor daughter.

I debated going. Do I really want to see Pujols and Holliday destroy my team? Not really. Do I really want to see Berkman hang his head after a disappointing at bat? Not really. But I went because I’m not a fair weather fan. Because even bad baseball is still baseball. And because I love ballpark food. After church on Sunday, we loaded in the car with another couple and headed to the Juice Box. (Our field is called Minute Maid Park… so it’s nickname is the Juice Box. Clever? A little bit.)

It was hot, I was hot. But we settled into our seats with our BBQ baked potatoes and throwback souvenir cups and enjoyed ourselves. It was an exciting game. Not because the Astros were on fire or it was a high intensity game. No. It was the randomness that kept us going.

Now I’ve been to several hundred baseball games so I’m no stranger to weird events and “Wow, that doesn’t happen often” plays, but even I thought this was odd. Throughout the 9 inning game, there were 4 broken bats. FOUR. And you better believe I yelled “CORK” after the first two broke. So the first one broke and it was cool. I love seeing bats break. Then another broke and I said, “Wow! Two broken bats in one game. That’s rare!” And then, the mother of all broken bats. Some dude named Jon Jay (who names their son that?) hit a ball and his bat broke in half. I imagine he was still holding the handle while the top portion flew off. Where did it fly? Into the stands. We were located behind the dugout along the first base line. AKA: The Death Zone. We see this giant portion of a bat coming our way, spinning and seemingly gaining momentum. First we see the dull end and then as it spins around, the sharp splinter. Over and over. It looked like it was going to spear someone.

Then about 20 feet in front of us, it stops. A mob of people had tried to catch it and someone got ahold of it. But not without a good piercing to the foot. We tried to concentrate the next two innings but it was difficult with the first aid people cleaning up the wound (that we never actually got to see). Several fans walked down to look and take pictures. My friends, it was exciting. Three broken bats and one of them came into the stands! And then, when we weren’t even ready for it, Lance Berkman is up to bat and he swings for the fences, misses the ball, and flings his bat into the stands. It flew up at least 20 rows. I’m telling you, next time I’m wearing pads to the game.

There was one more broken bat later in the game but we had a hard time focusing at that point. It was old news. Yeah yeah, so it’s a broken bat. Look how small those shards are! And they all stayed on the field. LAME. It would take much more to entertain us at this point. Thankfully I brought along my super observant husband to keep his eyes out. Guess what he spotted? (Click on the picture if you need it to be bigger.)

Do you see? Look right there between the girl in the white shirt and the guy in the Pujols jersey. See that man in the maroon? THE MOTHER OF ALL MULLETS. I have never seen a mullet of that size in real life. I am sad to say that he wasn’t wearing jorts, just regular dark jeans with no fading or wash of any type. I was in awe. I texted the photo out to a few people I knew would appreciate it. I stared. I snickered. I was thankful there was a buffer zone between me and The Mullet.

So I suggest you head over to your local ballpark and catch a game. Maybe your team is well below .500 and there is a slim chance they’ll show you a good game, but there are always other things to look for at the game. And we all know it would be a tragedy to miss out on a mullet like that.

July 14, 2010 at 8:57 am 15 comments

Opening Day

Today is Major League Baseball’s Opening Day. In my previous life (aka: life before Stephen) I would wear an Astros hat and Astros shirt. I would bake a round cake, frost it in white icing and put red stitches on it. I would walk around with a smile on my face and a hop in my step. I would read all the MLB websites. And I would most definitely go to the game tonight. But times change. Priorities change. Husbands happen.

 

Husbands change everything. I’ve heard the saying, “If you want to see a woman gain weight and stop shaving her legs, watch her get married.” Yeah yeah. Okay maybe that is partially true, but give us a chance to defend ourselves. Hear me out!

 

I don’t think it’s necessarily true that we don’t shave our legs anymore. Or that we quit wearing make up. Or that we “let ourselves go.” I think that there are just more eyes on us now. Back in college if I woke up and didn’t feel like getting ready, I could throw on some track pants, a t-shirt, throw my hair up and go. Nobody would think twice. There wouldn’t be any judgment. If I played my cards right and sat by that guy, I could even look dressed up compared to his torn flannel PJs and matted hair. But not now. Now I’m expected to dress like I care. Like I’m a mature adult who cares about what all of the other grocery store patrons think. But I am a grocery store patron myself. And I don’t notice. The only thing I care about when I’m at the grocery store is if the avocados are ripe and the yogurt is on sale. I don’t stop to notice what other customers are wearing. Unless of course they are dressed up… in which case I wonder who the heck they are trying to impress.

 

But stereotypes are out there for a reason. So obviously someone somewhere thinks that married women let themselves go. Yes we wear ponytails, yes we skip make up occasionally, of course we don’t shave as often in the winter… but we did all of this before marriage. It’s not our fault that you didn’t analyze our appearance back then. And to you, Stacy London, I love you… but it is okay to own sweatpants, it is okay to own t-shirts, it is okay to have multiple pairs of jeans and tennis shoes. I don’t live in LA. If I want to sit around my house with my husband, I don’t need to wear a wrap-around dress that flatters my shape. My husband knows my shape, I’m not going to fool him!

 

As far as gaining weight, okay, I’ll give you that. The second we get back from our honeymoon, we start swelling up. For this, I blame the husband. In my former life, it was acceptable to skip dinner. It was perfectly normal to have a bowl of Ramen and call it a night. Grilled cheese and tomato soup was my dinner of choice. Not anymore. Apparently, dinner is not dinner without some sort of meat. This was a big shock for me when we got married. My dad was never like this. Maybe it’s because of his frugality (is that a word? it is now…) and how he’d never waste a morsel of food. He puffs with pride when he can eat a meal and only spend $1.76. He would never assume that every dinner should have some sort of meat. My brother ate anything. His only request was that it be dead. And not fungus. Otherwise, he didn’t care if it was meat or not. But I have found that they are the exception, not the rule. So many men have this meat mentality. Consequently, us new wives have to please our men. We have to make actual meals each night. So we gain weight. This is not our fault.

 

I’ve copied my friend Sarah and created a little way to help out all of you newlyweds! (Or those practicing for newlywedism.) If we have to cook and gain weight, we may as well do it with great recipes! Today is the opening day of my new recipe blog. (<– click there) Don’t expect a new post everyday, that’s just ridiculous! But I’ll post as I cook new recipes that I feel are worth passing along.

 

In honor of Opening Day and the Astros taking on those pesky Cubs, maybe we’ll order a Chicago style pizza. The button on my jeans popped just thinking about that…

April 6, 2009 at 10:27 am 9 comments

A Bonus Post, All About Pudge

If you know anything about cruising, you know that eating is a big deal. Non-stop food. If you’re hungry, find a buffet. If you’re not, suck it up and eat anyways because you’re on a cruise for crying out loud. It’s included. You don’t have to pay a dime. So put your big girl panties on and eat up!

 

I consumed about 2 or 3 times the amount of food than I normally do each day. On sea days, we either visited the Windjammer for a buffet or the dining hall for a nicer breakfast. On port days, it was room service all the way! And of course you don’t know what you’ll be in the mood for. Fruit? Check. Eggs? Check. Bacon? Of course, double check. Yogurt? Check. Hashbrowns? Check. Coffee? Check. Pastries? Check…. Oh my! Lunch varied too, but it was always some version of a buffet. Most days we headed to the Promenade Cafe for a slice of pizza (or two) and a dessert (or two) for snack. Then dinner at 8. A couple appetizers, an entree (or two if you are Stephen or Laura! or three if you are Justin and it’s lobster and prime rib night!) and a couple desserts. “An extra ice cream all around!”

 

I wouldn’t say that cruise food is exceptional. It’s really not. You can get much better food at a nice restaurant. It’s the quantity that is fabulous. Chilled apple soup with a hint of cinnamon? Sounds a lot like apple sauce to me but I’ll order it anyways! Throw in an International Cheese Platter with that and you have a pretty standard first course. Naturally since there are 8 or 9 options, some nights you may have to order 3 or 4 appetizers so you don’t feel that you’ve missed out on something. Of course at the time you don’t feel guilty for eating so much. If anything, you feel bad that you can’t eat more. “My apologies to the chef but after 2 rolls, a spinach salad, a cup of onion soup, a brie tartlet, and a NY strip, I just can’t seem to find the space for that sirloin. I’m sure it’s delicious. Can I please try that Choco-Trio dessert, though? You may as well add add a side of vanilla ice cream. No, no apple pie. Not tonight. Thank you.”

 

Now that I’m home. I’m disgusted. I’ve had cereal and a banana for breakfast. Salads and sandwiches for lunch. Chicken breast and salad for dinner. (With the exception of tonight of course… I’ll be at the ballpark. The nachos are calling my name!) I’m wearing my “comfy jeans.” Ladies, you know what these are. These are also my higher waisted jeans… lower jeans cut into the muffin top, and that’s not comfortable! But I’m the one to blame for this extra “fluff”. My gut didn’t inflate itself. I guess that’s just the nature of the beast. (The beast in this case is the Voyager of the Seas.) I’ve heard it put: You come as guests, you leave as luggage.

 

In other news, the Astros signed Pudge Rodriguez for a year contract. Yes, he’s old. And as many of you know, catcher years are much like dog years. So he’s actually climbing up into his late fifties. But he’s a great player. I’ve always been a fan of him. I can remember the days when I didn’t know the difference between him and Mike Piazza. Chelsea, how could you not tell the difference between the two of them?? Oh shut up, give me a break. I was a middle school girl for Pete’s sake! You should be proud of me for even knowing who they are. And come on, they are both catchers with weird names. And behind those masks, they all look the same. Anyways, I think he’ll be a great addition for Houston. Just his history and expertise will certainly have a positive impact on the ‘Stros!

 

So the moral of the day is this: Embrace the Pudge. In the end, it’s all worth it!

 

Your cruise photo for the day:

You can see from my dad's plate that it's lobster night. So it's possible that Justin's awkward lean is actually him crunching up from a stomach ache. Justin, would you like to tell the class how much you ate that night?

You can see from my dad's plate that it's lobster night. So it's possible that Justin's awkward lean is actually him crunching up from a stomach ache. Justin, would you like to tell the class how much you ate that night?

March 17, 2009 at 2:28 pm 7 comments


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