Monday, September 14, 2009
The team Most of us are children of our fidelity. Especially for the home team. Our parents take us to our first baseball game, perfectly maintained grass green and white on white base established so precisely like giants to us in the warm summer sun shining. Starting from now to eteity that the computer was mine. A city that combines in a city, a time, it becomes us, defines us beyond a rational explanation. We use our loyalty in the game with the jersey of our hero's name emblazoned on the back, the painting confronts us with our colors of our team, our players name children after our favorite. There are crazy, crazy for our team. Win or lose, we love to celebrate or mou our team. Monday is not blue if his team won Sunday. But soon, if not overcome, because there's always next week, next year or if you are a Cub fan, the next few millennia. The best part of sport is that there is always next year, more than one type. That life gives us, but for our team. This is what keeps us coming back for. One possibility redemption. One more opportunity to be the best. To be champions. Everyone loves a winner, but the true fan, bo of a personal regards loyalty, love their team, no matter what. N. band wagon to jump on or off. And 'your team through thick and thin, win or lose. I come from a time and place was no loyalty. At work and play. The team was everything. If your friends or children in solar assembly line or the steel mill, which was their world, you, is your identity. I have lived, worked and played all over the world and there is a constant that bonds and men is sport. He played football in the shadow of the solar hulking rusted steel mills belching smoke and ash that coated the snow white. E 'was shoulder to shoulder with other players as the team walked the length of the field and collect rocks clanga chucking the empty aluminum bleachers. Then he went on foot to the tip and hit the trash away from each other for hours, or until it is too dark to play, or races of players. I played that shines in the baseball field of broken glass and the basket full of hypodermic needles in the slums of Philadelphia and New York and San Juan. He started around soccer balls in the hot sand of the Middle East, with guys who have played in the World Cup in Holland. I sat in the car with a freezing or four friends to Minneapolis to hear the United States beat Russia in the Olympics de'80, on the radio, because he forgot to pay the electricity bill. He was in control of the race in the 2000 Daytona 500 flashing hand signals to be conveyed that the crew could not understand why the Race Director has the final race to the yellow race of the 200,000 fans screaming in anger or joy, as their favorite, or caught, stole a break. I saw Superbowls, World Series games and the games of the World Cup in the bars of Bangkok to Bangor. I part with the great and not so great, the famous and infamous. I had the good fortune to have traveled the world and is the passion of sport to break the language and cultural barriers along the road. If there is something that men are more than a passion for politics or religion or women, in fact, is the sport, in particular the home team. Lifelong friendship was bo the love of this sport is beyond me. Inteet as a forum Sports forbid we have a place to show our loyalty and passion for the world and life long friendship. Give me some peanuts and Cracker Jack, because I'm going to root root root for the home team.