So I went to see the Marlin’s tonight. The game was great. The seats were great (Thanks Mike), and the Marlin’s won! But it eluded me again: catching a baseball. I am a hopeless optimist (Is that an oxymoron?) at the beginning of a game. I firmly believe that “Tonight’s my night” and I’m finally going to catch one. Yet this quest has become like Ahab’s obsession with catching Moby Dick, or Monty Python’s crew finding the Holy Grail (“What else floats?” “Very small rocks!”). But it hasn’t happened yet. While I can deal with that most of the time, I feel as though I am being taunted. In my row, 4 people (Yes you read that correctly) went home with baseballs as souvenirs and another person in my row went home with a broken bat (previously owned by 3rd baseman Mike Lowell). Talk about adding insult to injury!

I don’t know if there’s a lesson to be learned here. But I feel better now that I’ve shared this with you. Thanks for listening…