Musings on various things athletic (and not so much).
By Hannah Wallace
I know I’m on about sports a lot, but I’m afraid haven’t donned a lot of ball gowns this week. So in honor of Lee Roy Selmon’s (PLUG!) newly declared sports holiday April 6 (the opening of baseball season and the NCAA men’s basketball final), here are some things I ponder as I ice my knees and try to get the red dirt out of my kickball socks:
Cheetah Club Boyfriend and I will be celebrating our two-year anniversary at Tropicana Field. The Rays’ home opener will feature the hoisting of the American League Championship banner—which, happily, CCB and I saw the Rays win in game seven against the Red Sox last October.
Speaking of baseball, no lie: CCB’s cousin is a hot prospect in the Braves organization. (Gotta love that college, too!) But this is just an excuse to tell you that my one and only April Fool’s prank involved telling CCB that his whole family was coming down and staying with us for the last week of Spring Training. (It may have been a more effective prank had he tried telling .me. that, but then he would’ve spent the evening at the hospital.)
A proud moment and a life lesson.
Have I mentioned before my bull riding philosophy on life? Much like my attempts years ago to ride a mechanical bull (which, admittedly, I did pretty well for a Sarasota-slicker), I think there’s a strong instinct to locate a semi-comfortable principle, then clamp down and hold on for dear life—and that, we may say, shows strength. But actual bull riders tout constant adjustments: When the bull moves, you have to move. Your feet, especially, are always shifting, and with each jolt, you have to tweak your position to stay upright. You may have started off centered, but the bull isn’t going to sit still. You don’t know where the bull is going, and you are not stronger than the bull.
Friday Night Lights has been renewed! For two more seasons! It hasn’t been as good as the first season, I think, but it’s still damn good. (I demand an Emmy for the woman who plays Grandma Saracen.)
Can I tell you my new favorite thing in the whole wide world? When CCB and I have kickball games at Bee Ridge Park, and rough-and-tumble, 40-year-old hockey teammates Top Dawg Tom and Krazy Kevin show up to cheer us on. It’s like having your parents come to your teeball games—if your parents drank beer and made fun of you. That’ll be the crowd again for tonight’s game: Those two hooligans, plus onetime coworker and longtime friend Rock Star Kim, onetime classmate and longertime friend Little J, and all the new cool kickball friends. It’s family dinner. I can’t wait.