If I was Alyssa Milano, my life would be a whole bunch easier. First, I'd be a knockout. (Even though Jonathan "ScaryFace" Papelbon has admitted he'd prefer Pamela Anderson.) Second, I'd have a slew of Tony Danza jokes to file in the "Funny-Cause-It's-True" drawer. But mostly, because of this. I've recently decided that if dating was like baseball, my life would be a whole lot easier. And Alyssa Milano dates a lot of ball players. Talk about a fantasy team... (PS, thanks for bringing down carl pavano. Curse of the Babe?!?!)
Anyway, think of the myriad ways in which baseball is better than dating:
...You always know what team the other guy is playing for.
Think about that. No radar required. In giant, color coded letters across his chest, a cute little symbol on his hat, you know just by looking. So smart, when you think about it.
...No one night stands.
Every day, you know who you're playing. And you're guaranteed anywhere from 3 - 19 games with each matchup. Now, having dated more than my fair share of Tampa Bay Devil Ray or Kansas City Royal equivalents, I could certainly see ways in which this strategy backfires. but never again would you have to suffer through the will he call me again garbage.
...Taking one for the team could make you a hero.
Wingmen and wingwomen everywhere, listen up. Has a buddy ever asked you to take one for the team? To sit next to the obnoxious friend who won't stop talking about how cool they are? To dance with the one with no rhythm and wandering hands? Quintessential "Take one for the team" philosophy. But you get plunked with the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth, and all of a sudden, taking one for the team is kind of a glamorous thing.
...10 men on the field at once!
And they're all willing to play the game. There are no hidden strategies (Unless stealing signs is your thing. We've all done it.), everyone is there for the same reason. None of those guys get dragged along. They hit a slump, and they play right through it. They adjust, they finally change their lucky underwear.
...Ichiro. Dice-K. Hideki Okajima. 1 big bat, 2 big pitchers. I'm so not going into details on this one.
...It's possible to lose, and still have a good game.
In my world, there are certain players I'll always root for, no matter what color they wear. Take Adam Stern, for example. He comes up against the Red Sox, and I'm dying for him to hit it out of the park. I mean, I don't want Baltimore to win, that's just crazy. (I don't even think Baltimore wants Baltimore to win, but that's a different post altogether) But I love to see my favorites have a good game, while their team succumbs to the Mighty Mighty Red Sox.
...Guilt Free Home Runs. 'Nuff Said.
...High socks.
No normal guy looks good in high socks. But you put a baseball player in high socks, and all of a sudden, this girl goes a little weak in the knees. Reed Johnson, Ryan Braun, Jason Varitek, even ancient Mike Timlin. Doesn't matter who (Unless it's He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Let's not ruin this post for me.) the high socks always look good. Something about it...
...There's No Crying In Baseball!
Of course, we all know this to be not entirely true. I'm sure at some point in the near future, A-rod (Shoot, I totally just mentioned his name...) will be an official spokesmodel for Kleenex. I mean, he was really upset in the offseason about what happened with him and Jeter. And no one appreciates a good clubhouse fight more than I do (See: Zambrano and Barrett, Lilly and Gibbons, Fielder and Gatorade Cooler.) Baseball is definitely an emotional sport. But in the long run, it's all just water under the bridge.
All in all, if dating was like baseball, I'd be able to analyze statistics, see a player's entire history, their performance under any conditions, and make educated decisions. Is he better against lefties or righties? Home or away? How did he do in the minors? Is he slumping, or swinging a hot bat? I could figure it all out. It would be mathematical, it would be reasonable, and he would be wearing high socks. Why oh why can't life be more like baseball?
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I like this blog. As a professional sports bettor (why I expatriated after passage of UIGEA costing me my night with Ms. Milano -- this is no lie), and a Met fan, I've had profound love for the Sawx my whole life because I feel we're joined in some special way by 1986 and by mutual hatred of Rudy Giuliani's Girls. My son's nickname for that awful team is THE JULIETTES.
What is it about the GIRLS that makes them such crybabies. The worst offenders are Jeter and A-Rod but they all do this awful thing: THEY GLARE BACK AT THE UMPIRE ON EVERY CALLED STRIKE. Bernie Williams was bad this way, but the VERY WORST WAS PAUL O'NEILL.
I come to this blog via WAGES OF WINS book which is real, real good.
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