A Night at the Dinner Table

Frankly, it doesn't get much better than this.

It’s seven-thirty and the aroma of spaghetti and meatballs is making its way up the stairs to my room. It enters my room, my eyebrows raise, and I lick my lips. I go down the stairs, stepping on five of twenty-five, triple hopping, unaware of the potential injuries one could face in this same situation, acting as if the food is going to be eaten by someone else. And this is where I see the setting put forth in today’s entry.

I’m fixated. With my mouth open and tongue out, I stare at a gigantic bowl of spaghetti (enough to serve 20-25 adults), garlic bread, sauce, salad (with assorted dressing), napkins, and plates. And of course the Sox on the TV.

This is the typical setting for any week night dinner. But this isn’t any normal night. This is a Wednesday! So the usual questions come out of Tom.

“Did you read my post?”
“No dad.”
“Why not.”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out”
“Okay dad.”

So at this point, the Sox are up to bat, I’m absorbed in my food, and Tom is talking about his philosophies. I noticed that this is where a lot of his ideas come from. He comes in from the commute home, fresh off of his talk radio session, and has now formulated all sorts of ideas. But these are mostly spur of the moment frustrations and grievances. More importantly is the commentary and play-by-play he does to the game. I can always tell what kind of mood he is in. Lugo will get up and get a base hit.

“Atta boy Lugo!” Happy.
“Its about time, I’m surprised he opened his eyes on that swing.” Surprised.
Or Lugo will take two big swings and misses, 0-2 count.
“I can’t believe they signed him, what a waste of money.” Regret.
“All right, you ready Cor? Here comes the weak ground ball to second.” Fed up.
Lugo grounds out to second base, 4-3 out.
“See, ha ha, I told you…he SUCKS!” Content with theory.

Now all these happenings are fairly normal. Tom has found who he seems to enjoy pestering on the team, and I have to admit, its pretty entertaining. But this particular Wednesday, Tom had a great reaction. Classic Tom move

Lugo gets up and has two big swings and misses. 0-2

“Here it comes Corey!”
“Okay Dad.”

Lugo swings and makes contact, but opposite field towards the shortstop. This odd happening catches my attention. I look up.

“You got to been kidding me, does he ever get a hit? What’s his trade value.” By this point, the ball is just reaching the hole. Tom looks down at his nightly crossword puzzle. The ball slips through for a base hit. Tom looks back up. “ATTA BOY NICE JOB, I TOLD YOU COREY HES THE BEST!”

This change of heart made me spit up half a mouthful of garlic bread and spaghetti. I looked at my father with my mouth open, and half a meatball on my lap. Not only did my father trash the poor guy (who is just trying his hardest to make a living), but it happened ½ way through the play! The ball hadn’t even had a chance to get to the hole for the hit. THAN when it was a hit Tom was basically wearing a Julio Lugo shirt. As my father once said, “That’s the way I am, and you can’t change me :-).” I guess that’s nothing but truth.

In other news, I want to simply throw my two cents in on Tavarez. I love the guy. He makes me laugh while he’s on the bench using his newly created sign language to communicate with Daisuke. He has great answers for the media requiring his spot on the team. To put it bluntly, he’s a great team player. Unfortunately the truth is he sucks. I just wish he were better. I only ask for a few things. Let this guy be better! (Note: this was written before his start on Sunday)

One last thing before I go, I went to the Pawsox tonight. They got decimated, but at least Timlin came in and only allowed two runs and pitched 1/3 of an inning to stop the bleeding. RETIRE.

Anyways, that’s all for me. See you on the next spot start.