The Twins lost their season opener against Toronto last night, but my disappointment was tempered somewhat by the fact that I was able to watch the game in the company of a gaggle of Batgirl fans and friends-of-Batgirl-fans. The evening included appearances by Ms. Clara the exceptionally beautiful and well-behaved Batbaby, and Twins bloggers Twins Geek, Frightwig and Aaron Gleeman.
Eavesdropping on conversations between those guys, Batgirl and My Ho was an educational, if humbling, experience. They know ball in a way that I still only aspire to, and while I hope to one day be able to hold up my end of a conversation about Johan Santana’s ERA during early season games, for now I mostly just listen and keep my mouth shut. Because I am rather proud of the progress my technical knowledge of the game of baseball has made over the past few years, but I admit that a part of me is still in it for the hot guys in baseball pants.
(Speaking of which, Johan may have had a less than stellar first outing of 2006, but his butt waggle is already in excellent form. Must be those games he played in the WBC. Viva Venezuela!)
The gathering took place in a bowling alley/restaurant/bar not too far from my house, and I brought the DemiGoddesses along, as per usual. They like hanging around in bars watching grownups drink alcohol and watch baseball on TV. Really. And anyway, I wasn’t the only parent of questionable judgment there. One of Demi the Elder’s best friends and her dad also joined us, and because we cannot go out in public without My Ho running into someone he knows, it turned out that the friend’s dad and My Ho went to college together.
Of COURSE they did. Because the world is tiny and My Ho has worked with or gone to school with or coached basketball with every third person in it.
In the end, the game was over in plenty of time for us to get home and to bed at a reasonable hour. But even so, this morning at breakfast, when Demi the Younger said she was going to tell her teachers at the junior high all about how she spent last evening, my reply was, “Super. You go right ahead and do that. I’m sure your new foster parents will be much nicer than I am, anyway.”