Then there is "Summer Jen." She's a mite...unstable. I was going to say unpredictable, but her behavior has become all TOO predictable to some. She's liable to ditch her 97 year old granny, whom she promised to help plant seedlings, when she sniffs Tiger tickets for the evening's game. She may find it "reasonable" to say that there is a pressing "need" to attend all three games of the upcoming series. She could rationalize spending funds intended for her son's higher education on box seats. She might hatch twenty crackpot schemes in an attempt to get to Kansas City to take in a ballgame at the lovely, giant-HD-scoreboard-boasting Kauffman Stadium. She would look into auctioning off her Noritake China set for front row tickets.
I cannot be held culpable for this schism in my personality. It's a bonafide disorder. I've got a diagnosis from a reputable, board-certified healthcare professional. I safeguard it in my desk to produce for doubters, to defend myself against those who would like to critique my behavior.
I am a happy Skimpole when it comes to baseball. I don't understand why anyone would want to restrain my enjoyment of it in any measure. I just want to be with my Boys of Summer. I just want to sit under the lights at the ballpark, and feel the night breezes swirl around my ankles. I just want to feel the heat radiating off my sun-warmed skin as I sip a $6.00 Diet Coke. What say you of time, money, duty, skin cancer and stomach ulcers? Why would you bring up such evils when there is baseball to be watched? Why? What's wrong with you?