So last night we watched the opening ceremony and a few innings of the All-Star Game. I DVRed the rest of it, got too late for me to stay awake. Good thing, too, as I see it was the longest game in All-Star history. I found myself getting all nostalgic and weepy for the Stadium that I love, knowing that I'll never get to be there in person again and sad that Baby C won't be able to experience the magic and mysticism of Yankee Stadium for himself. Leave it to Jeter to put the perfect words together:
"It seemed like the Stadium didn't want it to end. That's what we were talking about. It just wanted baseball to continue. I thought it was fitting."
It's silly, really - it's not like I play for the Yankees, or like I know anyone who does, or have any real connection to the team or sport, but I cried like a baby watching the old Yankee greats throw out the ceremonial first pitch to the new Yankee greats. I mean really, who doesn't love Yogi Berra? I can't wait to teach the Minion all about Yankee baseball. Who knows, maybe he'll end up the Billy Beane of the Bronx.
After finally drifting off to sleep my dreams were full of baseball and cloth diapers. What an odd combination. I have issues.
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