Before I moved to Saint Louis, I met a guy at a wedding who said if there is one thing about Saint Louis that any newcomer will quickly realize it is that Saint Louis is a town where people fall in love with baseball.
Admittedly, I scoffed at this statement for its ludicrousness. I was the girl who whined and moaned at her grandfather for watching countless cubs games when he came to visit. Baseball, especially televised baseball, bored me to bitter tears.
Then I moved to Saint Louis. I'm surprised there isn't a town citizenship exam that requires you to place the players in the correct position on the diamond. Everyone offhandedly expects that you know all of the players and last night's score and who's pitching tonight and how many hit Albert had in the last series.
I look down the hallways at the school and the munchkins are decked out from head to toe in their red gear. Homemade pennants hang from the ceiling. Signs decorate the walls and windows. Kids and teachers alike cluster in small groups raving about what is going to happen in the next game and how hard they are working for it this year.
Throughout the season, I've gone to a few games. I invested in a child's sized long sleeved t-shirt. I've even watched a few on television. I've enjoyed it more as a way to create inraods with all of these seeming crazies that surround me.
And then it happened. I listened to a game on the radio. Listening to a radio broadcast of a baseball game is the ultimate sign of geekdom and fandom. It looks like I am in love.