|The boys in blue.|
|Loved this kid's enthusiasm.|
And I asked my hubby so many questions I think I drove him crazy: Why doesn't it count as a hit if the batter hits the ball? Why do Little League teams and soccer teams shake their opponents' hands after a game and professional teams don't? How can a runner get to first base if he never even hits the ball, but just sends it rolling around? And why is it fair for a pitcher to intentionally walk a hitter? Shouldn't he get a chance to hit the darn thing?
|The Trop was rockin'.|
And through it all I learned a lot more about baseball than I ever thought I'd know. And all of it, of course, is grist for the writer's mill, though the idea of writing a baseball book seems pretty far out for me.
|This guy--in a manta ray suit--yelled, "Put me on Facebook; I don't care!" To which I replied, "Obviously."|
And as I watched the Rays players manfully consoling each other in the dugout, I realized that these demigods of the athletic world will now feel like chess pieces being moved around. Managers trade players; they move people; they shift players for reasons that have to do more with skill and salary than with team loyalty. So some of the young men who formed this Rays team may never play together again--at least not wearing the same team jersey.
So this ending is bittersweet. I assume the Rays will field a team next year, and so will the other MLB franchises, but I've come to know and appreciate each face under those caps and helmets. So thanks, guys, for a great year and a terrific learning experience. Hope to see you again in the Spring.