Earlier this week, Rada came home talking about the Red Socks, err Red Sox.
Apparently it was the main topic of discussion at after-school that day. There was going to be a night game and although the Sox were not playing the Yankees, it was going to be a really good game. Everyone at after-school was going to tune in and and watch it. Rada wanted to watch, too. I looked at her, smiling blandly, feeling a desperate horror. (Does one watch baseball on TV?? Is it network TV or must one subscribe to cable? Isn’t it at ungodly late hour at night? How do I find out about this?)
And of course I suspect watching the game on TV is only the beginning. Images of Fenway Park loom leeringly in my consciousness, with the smell of hot dogs and beer. How did this happen to my daughter? What a surprise!
And how will I cope? Is it possible to learn how to understand baseball scores late in life?
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