Three excruciating walk off losses in a row in Texas. Three excruciating walk off losses in a row in Texas to cap off losing 3 out of 4 to another division rival after losing 2 out of 3 to the Twins, no less. Oh, joy. Even better. And then, last night, as fans were reeling from the hits — the other teams’, natch — that seemed to keep right on coming, what did they Angels do? Why handed us a gorgeous, feel good, batting exhibition of an 8 to 2 win over the Blue Jays, of course. I mean, I was expecting that, weren’t you?
All sarcasm aside, I suppose we fans really should have been expecting it on some level because this has been the Angels’ story all season. Get swept by the Pirates, sweep the Tigers. Get swept by the Mariners, come back after the All Star Break and take a more than decent 2 out of 3 from the best in the west A’s. Thinking about this pattern last night really made me start wondering. Is this relationship of mine with the Angels really, in the strictest sense, healthy?
I mean, let’s think about this for a minute. What is one particularly strong sign of an unhealthy relationship? Yes, exactly:
Periods of disturbingly erratic behavior, often followed by a barrage of gifts and kind gestures to make up for increasingly bad behavior.
Hmmmm…so let us review. Three excruciating walk off losses in a row in Texas after a string of other bad losses followed by a big, loud, extravagant gift of a win…oh, and did I mention that last night was also Albert Pujols Pint Glass Night? Uh huh. *nods*
Interesting. So, can we think of any additional classic signs of an unhealthy relationship that the Angels meet?
Isolation from friends and outside activities.
Well, I have been known to flake out on friends and parties in order to watch that evening’s game at home. Sometimes at the last…um…er…did I just admit that out loud?!? On the Internet?!? Crap! I mean…um…er…I wasn’t feeling well *cough, cough*…I had a terrible headache (this season, usually starting about the 8th inning)…there was this thing, yeah, this thing having nothing whatsoever to do with baseball that unexpectedly came up…er…they’re not buying it are they? Rats!
*In a whispered voice* Let’s just consider this criteria met.
Interference in relationships with family.
Hmmm…how to sum up? Both my immediate family and all of the Los Angeles based folks bleed Dodger Blue. My Central and Northern California family on both sides are passionate Giants fans. And then there’s me (and Seth). Soooooo…Gee whiz Krupke, that’s why I’m a mess…and why, when we all get together, post season dinner conversations can be…er…lively. 😉
Of course, at the heart of it, the various fans in the family all love baseball and love talking about the game and if, every now and then, there’s just a tiny little bit of trash talk, so be it. On second thought, we’ll call this one dysfunctional on the surface only and thoroughly hysterical on all levels.
There is a history of such behavior.
Ummm, yeah. Hey Angels fans? Does the team have a history of this behavior? Okay. Yes. I see a lot of nodding from those who have watched the last few seasons. Aaaaaand a lot more vigorous nodding from those who’ve been watching longer. Ooooo, swearing and nodding! Yeah, I’d ask if that’s really necessary, but I can tell that you folks have been watching since the beginning, so I think we all know that it is.
Okay, ouch. That couple over there is sobbing. I think they were at The Game That Must Not Be Named in 1986. Oh you were? Nice seats behind home plate, you say? Awk. Ward.
Sooooo…anyway. Suffice to say, yes. There is a history of such behavior.
Your entire personality starts to change within the context of the relationship.
Oh, so kind of like all of the yelling, swearing, stomping, cheering and general loud behavior this normally quiet, mild mannered geek girl suddenly adopts the moment the umpire shouts play ball? Yeah, ‘nuff said.
And, there are more classic signs that I could list, but I think we have our answer here loud and clear. Obviously, if you’re ever in a relationship with an actual human who behaves in any of these ways, you should find the nearest available cub and kick them to it, stat. No ifs. No ands. No but baby I can changes.
But when the relationship is with a baseball team? Well, then the rules are less clear. I mean, fan does come from the term fanatic, after all. My relationship with the Angels certainly doesn’t sound healthy but what it does sound is pretty normal, among the ranks of baseball diehards at least. I mean, we all know fans who take wins and losses with equal calm, watch the occasional game when it won’t interfere with other commitments or inconvenience their calendar in any way, and don’t get that bruised, beat up feeling after a string of hard losses. Yeah, we even have names for them, like casual, occasional and, less charitably, bandwagon.
Alright. What are we unhealthy baseball relationship sufferers left with then? *shrugs* I guess we struggle for perspective, continue to root for a win and hope that that annual couples therapy known as Hot Stove, the trade deadline (not this year clearly!) and the draft eventually break the pattern of long strings of crushing losses followed by winning presents. I mean, then dealing with all of the other stuff isn’t just worth it, it’s laudable. 😉
So business as usual then? Yeah, pretty much. Play ball!
Way to go Tigers, coming out of nowhere to land the big free agent bat! That was almost…well…Angelic. 😉 …Ooooh. Kay. And reminiscent of many other teams in other seasons too. But this is an Angels blog. I’ve kind of got this slant going on. And with that slant I have to say, I don’t know which outcome of the deal amuses me more, the fact that this move keeps Prince Fielder out of the AL West? Or the thought that with Migueal Cabrera moving to third base according to today’s reports, Angels fans are likely to see a lot more of Justin Verlander’s “That’s bushleague!” scowl? Pssssst…Angels players bunt. Often and generally very well. Pass it on.
In all seriousness though, I do like the way this offseason is turning out and the role this deal played in it. The Tigers and the Rangers, both already strong teams, were able to make improvements without outright dominating. The Tigers filled the potentially devastating void left by Victor Martinez’ season ending injury in a way that also bumped up their offense. The Rangers did not further bump up an offense that was already pretty much the scariest in the AL, but they did improve their starting rotation. Yes, I know Darvish is unproven, but I just can’t imagine a pitching acquisition that Nolan Ryan approved of so highly turning into a flaming failure.
And the Angels? The Angels made sure they can compete, adding power to a lineup in serious need of just such an infusion and restoring their starting rotation to the promise it had at the beginning of the 2011 season. Remember, for all that our pitching was impressive last season it was primarily spots one through three that did the impressing. The four and five spots were a rotating mixed bag of frequent awfulness speckled with the occasional gem. Other teams patched potential problem spots too. I like the Yankees pitching additions…all the more because they’re both pitchers the Angels hit. I find it interesting and potentially beneficial that the Red Sox have gone out of their way to add good clubhouse guys into the mix with their All Stars. Don’t worry, I’m not going to beat a dead, repeatedly reanimated as a zombie and then beaten dead again and again and again, Bostonian horse here. But suffice it to say, I think this may prove to be a more powerful strategy than folks are currently giving it credit for.
And no, this isn’t me being some sort of Mary Sue saying, Yay, everyone is equal now. Let’s get out there, give the other team a big hug, and don’t bother keeping score. This is me, the passionate baseball fan saying, I see a lot of well matched, hard fought, competitive as all get out, great baseball games on the horizon in 2012, and that prospect makes me downright giddy. Spring training, you slacker. What’s taking you so long to get here? Come on, pick up the pace already!
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So, I’ve been less than present in the MLBlogs community for the past week now and probably will continue to be so for a few days yet…or not, who can say. No, I’m not one of the bloggers packing it in. And I didn’t finally go off the deep end from some sort of baseball depravation induced psychosis. Heck, I would prefer that. I lost a close friend Sunday. The guy both Seth and thought of as brother. The third of our goofy Three Musketeers band of degenerates. He was only a little older than me, which is to say way, way too young…as if there were a good age for this. He’d been in the hospital all last week and devastated doesn’t even begin to cover it.
My friend – the best bad influence a girl could have, as I called him with fondness – was, among other things, the gent who taught me how to play blackjack. Not the rules, but how to really play – strategies, calculating probabilities, fearlessness. But as anyone who has ever spent serious time at the tables knows, no matter how well you work the probabilities, sometimes the cards just don’t fall in your favor and you need to do something different to change your luck. I haven’t been able to put pen to paper in days. Not for work. Not for blogging. Not for nothing. But today, I made myself bang out this post in response to news that genuinely excited me, in an attempt to “change my luck” by doing a few “normal” things. To quote Marcellus Wallace, I am pretty f-ing far from okay. But I think I am moving closer to a place where I am better able to honor his life with memories that bring smiles rather than floods of tears.
So, how about those winter meetings? The agenda could be duller than a long Friday night in folding laundry and they would still seem pretty darned exciting at this point, mostly thanks to Florida…er…I mean Miami. Miami at the moment reminds me of that lightweight drinker who has overindulged beyond their usual prudent amount and suddenly finds themselves the life of the party. You’re thrilled that they have acquired a few missing pieces…er…learned that they do in fact love tequila. You want them to be competitive again…that is, to have a great time. But you can see the potential for hangover growing by the minute and if it hits this one is going to be uh-uh-gly…er…oh, wait. Nevermind. That one works for both analogies. 😉
And, while we’re on the party analogy, has anyone seen our escort? He brought us that lovely tropical drink – something catcher? – a little while ago and then left to get us another, but we can’t seem to see him in the crowd at the moment. Oh well, no matter. We’re feeling happy – no complaints. This is an awfully fun party and I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually with a big swingin’ bat or two (If there is no such drink, I swear I will make one up with spice infused bourbon to get some nice wood notes and other tasties!) or maybe even a pitcher of something. Oh, we can wait for that and even enjoy the waiting.
Editor’s Note/Update: Ummm…not so sure about some of the current rumored beverage offerings. I enjoy rum and Texas tea…but not in those quntities/for those contracts. Yikes!
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My husband and I often joke that baseball fever is, how shall we say? Ah yes, a social disease. (Gee Officer Krupke!) It’s the only explanation for the speed with which two sworn non baseball fan friends acquired the disease once they started dating a baseball fan and the wondrous virulence of their lasting symptoms. It also explains why all of our other friends, non baseball fans in committed relationships with one another, will never catch the fever. Hey, baseball fans out there in love with non baseball fans. Wouldn’t it be great if it actually worked that way?
Anyway, my husband is a great baseball fan. But the true fanaticism is a newer thing, something that grew parallel to my returning fanaticism when my own baseball fever joyfully relapsed after way too long a remission. I like to think I helped him a little bit with that. He already definitely knew the rules and some of the strategies, players and such. But I got to teach him the finer points, or at least be there when he picked them up on his own and it’s been an incredibly fun journey. He is not as big a dork as I am, yet, but he’s getting there.
Coming home from work the other day, I walked in on him ranting at Hot Stove. That’s not an intangible. You can absolutely measure that. It’s called Wins. Above. Replacement. He snarked and tossed the remote on the sofa in amused disgust.
Wow, I laughed appreciatively. Look at you!
Seth paused, looked at me, laughed and said. It’s a social disease.
A good friend wanted to celebrate her birthday in style this weekend, so she got the lot of us passes to the Magic Castle on Saturday. I know what you’re thinking – cheesy fortune tellers and kid’s birthday party tricks. I thought as much myself before I went the first time, but the reality is quite different. Housed in a gorgeous pre-World War I era mansion tucked into the Hollywood Hills, the Magic Castle is the headquarters for the Academy of Magical Arts and a truly decadent private club. A luxurious setting, an elegant meal, cocktail servers who never let your glass go empty if you let them, and the magicians, wow! My favorite part of all of it is the close-up rooms – card tricks, coin tricks, ring magic, rope tricks and the like all performed to perfection mere feet away. The magician might as well be sitting on the other side of the dining room table from you if you are lucky enough to sit in the front row.
There aren’t very many new tricks in the world really, just infinitely innovative riffs on classic tricks. But the variations and personal stamps each magician puts on these tricks are where I think the true artistry lies. Take the 11 $1 bill trick, as it was first described to me. I have seen it performed many ways by many different names, on Saturday for example, it was performed by a magician from my home town as the 4 card trick. But I have never seen it performed so well as the 11 $1 bill trick so I will use that variation as my example. The magician performing this trick always invites a member of the audience to assist him. When I saw the trick, the assistant was Mike, a good friend of mine, and the rest of us were sitting in the front row, close enough to reach out a touch the dollars ourselves.
The Magician took a simple wallet out of his pocket and counted out the contents, 11 $1 bills, into Mike’s skeptical hand and invited him to look over each bill carefully. He then invited Mike to investigate the wallet to prove that is was empty and Mike did so thoroughly. The magician set the empty wallet on the table in plain view and asked Mike to count the stack of bills back to the magician. 11 $1 bills. Then the magician counted them back into Mike’s hand – 11 $1 bills – and asked Mike to count the stack back into his hand again. Only now, suddenly, Mike could only count 10 $1 bills. Surely Mike was mistaken, the Magician said and counted the stack back into Mike’s hand. 11 $1 bills. Try it again, he asked. So Mike counted the stack back into the Magician’s hand. 9 $1 bills. No, the Magician said there are 11 and counted them back into Mike’s hand. 11 $1 bills. Mike counted them back to the magician again. 8 $1 bills.
Ah, said the magician. I know what happened. And he picked the wallet up off the table, opened it up and removed 3 $1 bills! This trick then continued for some time with several variations. The 11 $1 bills grew in number to 15 and shrank and low as 6 until eventually Mike was asked to investigate the offending wallet again, which he did even more thoroughly, and put the empty wallet into his own pocket himself. In the end, Mike could only count 7 $1 dollars back to the magician again and the remaining three were, you guessed it, inside the wallet he had tucked into his own pocket. I am difficult to impress. I look for the misdirection, glance at places the magician is de-emphasizing, and try to see that which I am not supposed to see. Every now and then I see a bent card, the hidden coin or a few of the torn pieces of whatever disappearing, but not this time. I have the vaguest of ideas what the magician might have done, but damned if I could catch him at it. Magic? Of course not. Not in the Harry Potter/Walt Disney/Gandalf the Grey sense, at least. But definitely a gifted artist giving a brilliant demonstration of his craft, and what could be more magical than that?
Anyway, does the 11 $1 bill trick remind you of anything? Yes, exactly. The Angels standings in the AL West. Twenty days ago, the Angels only had to count a mere 1.5 games out of first back to the Rangers. But then they went to New York and Toronto, and entertained a visit from the Rangers themselves, and when the Rangers counted games back to the Angels, the stack grew to 5 games, then 6 games, then 7. But just when the audience expected them to count back 8 games, Mark Trumbo hit that walk off homerun and showed the Rangers that 2 of those games had magically disappeared from the stack.
After pulling several bats and a rookie outfielder seemingly out of thin air, the Angels took on Baltimore and Chicago and were able to count a mere 2 games back to the Rangers again…Boston may have helped with that a little. And then the counting began in earnest in Texas. The Rangers dazzled the Angels by making baseballs disappear over fences and counted 3 games back into the Angels palm. Then the Angels discovered the secret of the disappearing baseball trick themselves, Ervin Santana turned three days rest and grit into a win and the team counted 2 games back to the Rangers. This feat caused me to respond with a trick of my own and magically pull a Droid out of my small, elegant little evening bag to check the score several times on Saturday. However, Jered Weaver was unable to match Santana’s impressive prestidigitation, the Angels fielding moved out of the magic shop and into the novelty store, and suddenly the Rangers counted 3 games in the stack again.
The Angels have 29 games left, 3 of them against Texas, and I can’t help but feel they have a few more tricks up their sleeves. Provided the bats continue to obligingly reappear or, better yet, no one makes them disappear in the first place, I predict that the number of games in this particular stack is going to go up and down several more times before someone is eventually able to pull a division title out of the wallet on the table. The feat is hardly impossible, but if the Angels are able to cinch the division win, it will be one stylish trick indeed – even more enjoyable than the 11 $1 bill trick and even more impressive than my own little trick of walking and standing around the Magic Castle for seven hours in three inch heels with nary a blister to show for it. 😉
Of course, I would have dearly loved to amend Ernie Banks’ famous quote to let’s win two for this post but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Not in the double header and not even in the series. Ouch. Seriously, did you see Sunday’s score?! Ouch!
With the Angels entering the All Star Break on such a roll, we didn’t really want to break just then. And then coming back from the break to Peter Bourjos moving from day to day status to the DL until the 23rd and Vernon Wells too ill to start? Suffice to say, it was not a recipe for success. However, it was not a guaranteed disaster either, despite the eventual outcome. No, the Angels old “friends”, lack of RISP and difficulty getting the third out, played a large roll here too. Whatever is going on, the Angels need to get it together by Tuesday, because Texas is coming to town and we can’t lose any more series in our division right now or things just went from hard to really darned difficult in a hurry.
But back to that double header part. Single admission. Double header. On Saturday in Oakland. Who could resist the old fashioned allure of a draw like that? Not this girl. Saturday I was at the Coliseum bright and early with my husband and a good friend from college, ready to continue the Bay Area Baseball Extravaganza with 18 innings of baseball…which turned into 19 by the end. It was a great day at the ballpark indeed. The weather was mild, our seats were excellent and we were seated in good company with just enough red nearby to not feel like we were cheering alone.
First, a note about the A’s ballpark. I heard horror stories before I headed up here and I have to say that’s really not fair. No one is ever going to put the Coliseum on their list of top 10 ballparks. It’s a no frills, mixed use facility, but those are the only problems with it. The park was clean, the seats were comfortable, most seats appear to have a good view of the field and we bought black and tans for only $8.25. Suffice to say no frills was far from uncomfortable. The no frills part does mean there weren’t a lot of unique regional specialities in the food court but we enjoyed polish sausage rolls, corn dogs and nachos – hey, it was a doule header. Nine hours at the ballpark. Don’t judge me. 😉 And even though the drawbacks of a mixed use facility are odd shaped seating and fields and still being able to see the lines from the previous week’s soccer match on the field, it’s still a baseball field, the most gorgeous shade of green in the world:
Besides, in Oakland, instances of the wave were blessedly few and far between and no one, seriously no one, bounced stupid beach balls around the stadium. Angels fans, take note. Please! Also, I don’t know what the players think of them, but as a fan I really liked seeing the old fashioned, on the field, open bullpens and dugouts for a change:
I took advantage of those on the field bullpens when I bought our tickets – on the field, 12 rows behind the mound in the Angels’ bullpen. It was a lot of fun to see the bullpen warmups up close:
It was also a lot of fun to have a good vantage for so many of the serious warm-ups, hanging out and general goofing around that goes on before a game. I’ve included more photos of that than game photos this time because, well, they’re fun and I don’t often have the opportunity:
And, of course, the games weren’t without their fair share of derring do. Jered Weaver was, well, Jered Weaver. Ervin Santana was shakey but kept it together. The bullpen was great. We had great hits, notably from Erick Aybar, Mark Trumbo, Vernon Wells and – yay! -from Mike Trout. We made some great plays too. With a few less stranded runners in the second game, who knows?:
If only the Angels had won the second game, it would have been a perfect day…and I’m sorry to say that as good a time as I had, I am not a good enough sport to have left the ballpark in perfectly high spirits after losing the second game. One great win, a near win and an amazing time at a double header should have been enough…but they weren’t quite, not for a perfectly gleeful mood. I still had a lot of fun, mind you. But it’s hard not to feel just a little but deflated even so. The A’s, or better yet the Angels, have to, have to, have to do this again next season. Have to! 🙂
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Outside of baseball, coming up to the Bay Area and hanging out with friends from college has a lovely feel of both fun in the here and now and nostalgia to it. I was definitely ready to start the rest of my life and move on from college once it was over, but those were four very fun years. Getting the band back together, as it were, for a few nights of fun however does remind me of a few things I miss, like the ability to spend long periods of time just hanging out…and that wonderful sense of possibility you feel when you know you’re smart and willing to work your butt off and life has yet to hand you any real beat downs…well, that, and the ability to be fully functional after three hours of sleep and 1/3 or so of a 1/5 of something tasty. 😉
Next Post: the Bay Area Baseball Extravaganza concludes with a trip to AT&T Park for a Giants vs. Dodgers game.
I am very careful in my work and take pride in not making many mistakes. But when I do make them, they tend to all occur at once. A mini slump, if you will. Today was one of those days. Mistake 1 begat Mistake 2 and it’s more public sister, Mistake 3. I owned up to them and put out the resulting fires. But it’s good that we’re driving to Paso Robles for the weekend as I typed this because, honestly, somtimes to get out of the head space that causes a cycle of mistakes to perpetuate like that, you just have to get out of town…
…Or come home again! The Angels broke up their own cycle of mistakes this evening with a much needed win over the Yankees, a win made all the more important by the fact that it was finally win #7 for Jered Weaver. So, was it a brilliant, awe-inspiring performance? Did the Angels, resplendent in their earliest years throwback jerseys complete with the original interlocking LA ball cap, strike fear into the hearts of the Yankees with their dominance at the plate? Um, no. Not really.
It was a lot of the same actually. The team hit well, especially Mark Trumbo and Peter Bourjos, but continued to struggle with runners in scoring position. The fielding was tight but neither Weaver nor the Yankee’s Ivan Nova had a great start, though Weaver settled into his groove by the third inning, giving the team five additional strong innings and eight strikeouts. So, not an amazing performance, but the Angels battled through, held the Yankees to two runs for five innings and stubborned out a victory!
Besides, a W is a W and I could not have been more thrilled by the victory – for the team, for Weaver and for Angels fans. In fact, we were just outside of Santa Barbara when the Angels won the game and when my husband read me the last pitch – using the pitch by pitch on Gameday, because our ability to pick up the broadcast cacked it in Ventura – I let out such a loud whoop that we both started cracking jokes about the perils of loud cheering in the friendly confines of a Pontiac G6. So what do you say we do it again tomorrow? Sadly, Dan Haren will miss the first scheduled start of his career but we have Ervin Santana on the mound and that’s nothing to sneeze at. Hmmm…time to start a cycle of winning? Yes, please.
On another note, this amused the heck out of me, so I figured I’d share. I believe I have mentioned before that the majority of my friends are not baseball people? The following statement from our weekly Wednesday gathering at the pub, illustrates this fact better than I ever could. The “lights out” Giants/Cardinals game was on the TV over the bar, Brian Wilson strides out to the mound in all of his Brian Wilson-y glory and my friend asks with a tone of shocked disdain, “Who the hell is that and why is he wearing a fake beard?” A quick glance around the table shows that she was not alone in her question.
Really? Just in case we needed another definition: Baseball people may or may not fear the beard, but they are at least aware of it.
A spectacular, improbable come from behind win. A heartbreaking extra innings loss following a brilliant pitching performance by Jered Weaver. Dan Haren’s luck finally changed as the offense rallied to his support early and often. What a weekend! And that’s just the baseball part. So, what was the best part of my weekend?
Peter Bourjos’ amazing catches? Whether we’re talking about the catch on Friday or any of the others this weekend, Bourjos was a human highlight reel. And he wasn’t too shabby at the plate either. (I’m ignoring the hot potato incident with Torii Hunter in right field as a one-time only thing, unless proven wrong.)
The fact that the offense came out to play in two out of three games? Erick Aybar, Torii Hunter, Alberto Callaspo, Bobby Abreu and Mark Trumbo, I applaud you! Now, how about the offense coming out to play for three out of three games in Kansas City? The Angels need to redeem themselves in KC this week.
The exciting come from behind win on Friday night? By the way, arent the Twins supposed to be a last place team? Because they sure weren’t playing like it this weekend. They were a very good team this weekend. The Angels seem to bring that out in other teams. Um…thanks??
Jered Weaver’s nine lights out, two-hit, shutout innings? All that and no W? Very sad and very frustrating for Weaver, I’m sure. But that doesn’t make the feat any less fantastic.
The game night (of the board and card variety) we hosted on Saturday? That’s right, we decided to be social at the expense of some of the ballgame. Me, a few of my favorite smart asses in the whole wide world, a moderately epic quantity of wine, good food and games, games and more games until the wee hours of the morning. It was just what the doctor ordered for some much need stress relief.
Kicking some strategy game ass on Saturday? Yes gentlemen, I may have consumed more wine than you but don’t think that means I will wale on you any less. *evil laugh*
Turning the TV off on Saturday, because we had non-baseball friends over, when Jered Weaver was mid-gem, before the traumatically disappointing end? In hindsight at least, this is a good thing.
Dan Haren finally getting a much deserved 5th win? It’s funny. Haren has joked in interviews that after losing a few games where he pitched lights out, his next win would probably be a less than stellar performance with full run support…and that is exactly what happened. I don’t care, Haren’s a little off is better than a lot of pitchers on and the man was due.
Mark Trumbo’s homerun into the upper deck? And this was on an inside pitch where he couldn’t extend his arms!
The Bullpen? Well, on Friday and Sunday at least. Yes, Walden let things get a little more exciting than necessary Sunday but he pulled it off. They all did. They came to the mound for their inning or part of an inning and got it done.
Hitting the bike trail with my husband after the ballgame on Sunday? It was only a 6 and a half mile ride in and around Santa Fe Dam. I might even have said pathetic once. But it’s been two years since I was last able to ride my bike and bike riding was pretty high up on the list of things my knee might never quite be up to again, so I’m going to go with Bravo! …and thank you reformer Pilates.
The weekend’s not over yet because we both have Monday off, the game starts at 1:30 and there is still the possibility of many of these things happening all over again?
Yeah, these are all great things, but I’m going to go with that last one!