Day CCCXXIV

Kids, Moms and dads

     He was right, some dads who never played, for what ever reason, relive their lives through their kid on the field.

     “Aaaa ah ya dummy how cud ya dwop dat ball?” Some body screams.

      “Hey asshole, dat’s me kid!”

     Mothers being more protective are more aggressive than fathers.

     “Strike tahreeeeeee E…yer Ouuuuutah hea!” The umpire sang, yanking his arm back, and screamed the third strike as if he were in the majors.

     “Yo Tommy ya ain’t ina majahs, dem be liddle kids ya asshole.” The mom yelled at the ump.

     “Up yarrrrs!” He responded, without ever looking back, and not knowing it was a lady.

     “Hey ya cain’t tawk tamee wife like det, Ima kick yar ass!”

     The wife and a few other dads held him back, and since he couldn’t beat the ump up, he nervously lit up. Tommy wasn’t exactly mentally challenged, but he was close to it. That sucker brought a pair of six packs in a cooler, and between innings he downed a couple, just like Norm in Cheers. By the fifth inning he had a stupid smile on his mug, and a cool buzz going on in his mind, where he probably saw himself umpiring the ninth inning of a world series game. That really happened at an YMCA game. The Little League wouldn’t allow that. It has kiosks, where you can get soda, coffee, hot chocolate, pretzels, hot dogs, cracker jacks, peanuts, cigarettes, and all kinds of candy. All of it served by volunteers, who also keep the fields groomed. If it weren’t for the damned politics it would be as perfect an environment as you could get for the kids, but alas…nothing is perfect in the world.