No Rotten Fruit From the Peanut Gallery!


I realize that this admission may get a few squidgy oranges and tomatoes tossed my way, but hubby and I aren't big fans of watching professional sports.  It's been uncomfortable adjusting to being "that family" in the military, a lifestyle that definitely includes many a bonding Sunday with chips, salsa, the game on TV, and the entire squadron decked out in various jerseys while screaming epithets at a screen the size of a deuce-and-a-half.  We've adjusted well, I think.  We have fun at the game parties and no one grills us about any stats; and in exchange, we're the first ones people call when stumped by a question on Jeopardy.  Everyone is happy.

That's not to say that we don't enjoy sports - hubby is very athletic.  He can run for miles and miles and nearly always maxes his fitness test.  I played softball in high school and was on the swim team until waking up suddenly one morning to boobs of stripper proportions sometime around my fifteenth birthday.

It's just that we aren't big on watching other people run around seemingly aimlessly on someone else's TV screen. 

And that became a problem when we realized that my son could watch any number of sports on TV for hours at a time, forgetting even to eat or drink in his absorption with where the ball was going and who was getting it there.

To further add to our dilemma, AirForceGuy spends an awful lot of time in places that aren't home.  Which means that my son is left to figure out how a boy is supposed to act while surrounded by a moody batch of girls.

We had to take some kind of action.  We just didn't know what.

First up was figuring out exactly what sport my son was really interested in.  It would have been easiest for me if he showed a penchant for football; after all, it is fairly easy to explain, flashy, lots of barely clothed cheerleaders, tailgate parties, and my family has a hereditary team all picked out already.  It was all laid out and ready to go.

And while Baby Jakob will watch football if there are no other sports on, it's just not his thing.  He's not a particular fan of tossing the pigskin around in his spare time. 

No, what Baby Jakob is interested in is baseball.  He stands outside swinging a bat for hours at a time.  He's got a great eye, and can hit the ball from what I consider a fairly fast pitch.  He already clamors to visit the batting cages on Fort Dix with us.

Okay, baseball.  That's fine - all American and eminently respectable.  But what TEAM?  You can't be a baseball fan without a team!  That's like going to the Fourth of July without a flag! 

Unfortunately, we don't already have a team preference.  There's no team from our "hometown", and we're a military family without a real home, anyway.  Just how are we supposed to find a baseball team for our four year old?  As a political science major, my first instinct was to run a statistical analysis of wins and player stats.  Hubby said that was ridiculous.  I thought about choosing according to Baby Jakob's favorite color.  Apparently, that's not normal, either.

Finally, the problem solved itself.  This afternoon we were driving to Target when we realized what my son's favorite song was... After two stanzas of "Sweet Caroline", we realized that my son was meant to be a Red Sox fan.  Apparently, anyway.  And no boos or hisses, either.  The kid thinks for himself!

Now we need to buy him his first jersey. 

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