The Big Game

Most people who read this blog will know that I come from a family of weirdos, that is to say, huge baseball fans. When I tell people that, I am pretty sure they don't get it. I am not saying that my family (and, really by this I mean mostly my mom) just like baseball. They want to marry baseball. Baseball and the Harris' sitting in a tree.

Skeptical are you?

Exhibit A: they go on baseball themed trips every year, usually more than once. This year they were so desperate to see spring training that they actually rode a greyhound for two straight days to get there.

Exhibit B: My mother has been known to sit in her car in the garage for long stretches of time (in the summer in Texas!) just to listen to the game on satellite radio

Exhibit C: My parents built a baseball field in the backyard that is fully stocked with stands, a batting cage, a pitching machine, bases, infield, outfield, and a sign that says "Field of Dreams."

It's a disease. Luckily, I escaped the gene, but they are trying to pass it onto my children.

Exhibit A:

They tricked me into letting him go to the Rangers game on Sunday with them by beguiling me with how cute he is in his hat and jersey

Exhibit B:

Now my brother is in on the act. According to Robby, this style is "the Curtis."

Exhibit C:

He's turned his back on me and my non-baseball ways. I'm not sure if it was the new baseball mitt, the two new baseballs, the free jersey giveaway, the batting helmet, the two popsicles, or just the very special adventure with his Pahpah and tah that won him over.....because one thing I do know is that it was not because he actually likes baseball.