Gut Rumbles
 

February 06, 2007

Father and son week

Originally published April 16, 2002

My son had a baseball game today, so I took him to play. It's the first game I've seen this year, because I won't go if his low-rent slut of a mutha is there, and she usually is, so I'm not. But she's on a business trip this week and I've got my boy for seven whole days.

My son plays for a team called The Vipers. They were 0 and 6 going into this game. They are 0 and 7 now, thanks to the 15-3 drubbing they took today. You could rake all the talent on that team into a pile that would fit in a quart Mason jar and my son WARMS THE BENCH. It was a pretty pathetic exhibition, but the kids had fun. They play again Thursday evening, and they'll probably bite the dust one more time unless there is a team in the league worse than they are, which is difficult to imagine. But I cheered and clapped and rooted my ass off, the way a parent is supposed to do at one of these games. Then I took my son to McGrunge for a cheeseburger, which he ate heartily. Defeat caused him no agony at all.

I hope, however, that he doesn't become TOO accustomed to coping with it.

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