As I took in a baseball game earlier this month, fanny pack in tow, I came to the thought of how similar the positions on the baseball diamond are to my family.

Behind the plate we have Mom. The on field manager of the family who is in charge of just about everything from bedtime to haircuts (thanks for the junk drawer orange handle scissors uneven mohawk that ruined 5^th grade for me btw).

Dad’s on the mound. He’ll have a quality start as long as he gets his 1hr 45 minute daily bathroom warm up secession. DO NOT DISTURB this pitcher as he tries to perfect his “sinkerball” during this all important time.

1^st base is the 1^st born. All important, can do no wrong, where we should of stopped reproducing child. This position is heavily involved in the game and paid much attention too. Too bad 3^rd base has candid pictures of “promise child” puking her guts out holding a 5^th of Jack, that were anonymously mailed to parents. Oh I’ll explain 3^rd base in a moment. And no, it’s not that… get your mind out of the gutter.

2^nd base and Shortstop are the twins. What can I say, you’re middle children and that “childhood accident” was really just so one of you would have a scar and mom and dad could tell you apart.

3^rd base is the last born or in other words… when the parents finally got it right. Aside from incriminating evidence of older siblings strategically placed around the house, 3^rd base is in control of the hot corner. And when I say that, I mean the seat next to Aunt Ida in church whose overwhelming odor of Werther’s Originals and old lady perfume, was the cause of your childhood asthma.

I really can only speak for my family, but I think I hit this one out of the park.

Well we can’t forget the Bullpen aka Crazy In-Laws. Only bring them out in public for situational match-ups i.e. you need someone drunker than you are to distract the family from Grandpa’s estate that you lost in a bathroom stall poker game during your gamblers anonymous meeting.

Ahhh alas the All Star break is among us baseball fans. All stars are gathered in St. Louis and all the others are getting a nice mini vacation from our national pastime. There are many teams in the hunt for playoff berths so the 2nd half of the season shall be an interesting one.

As for me and my Dbacks, we won’t be playing any games in mid October. Our only hopes are to play for pride and defend our home turf, which winning the past 7 out of 9 @ home helps.

It is times like these that the Salt River floods my mind. A 4 hour float down the river to wash away any and all troubles. Soaking up the sunshine, drinking and strangely, never having to stop even once to go pee;)

I encourage all Dback fans, players and coaches to take this opportunity during the break and visit the great river. Think about anything BUT baseball and recharge for the next few months of play. Just remember to check for holes in your tube.

MARK REYNOLDS NEEDS YOUR SUPPORT TO GET A TICKET TO THE ALL STAR GAME. YOU KNOW YOU WANNA SEE THIS MONSTER AT THE HOMERUN DERBY, HE WILL PUT JOSH HAMILTON TO SHAME! 

REYNOLDS #’S

.269 AVG 301 AB 24 HR 61 RBI 13 SB

FOLLOW THIS LINK AND VOTE ALL THE TIME, THERE IS NO LIMIT TO HOW MANY TIMES YOU CAN VOTE!

http://arizona.diamondbacks.mlb.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20090705&content_id=5705952&vkey=news_ari&fext=.jsp&c_id=ari

I know whenever I feel the urge to get robbed with consent, after paying for parking, a ticket, a drink, food, and to be moved away from the fan who has had one too many and tries to use me as a Snuggie during the 7th inning stretch, I am making memories to tell my children that will no doubt, run me into bankruptcy with their lifetime dependence on therapy.

I understand why they do call this game “America’s Pastime” I mean why would I want to volunteer @ a homeless shelter or knit sweaters for low self-esteem kittens when I can spend 3 hours of my life watching couples who despise one another, force an obligatory, uncomfortable embrace on the “Kiss Cam”?

I feel I have gotten off track, let me set the record straight. Baseball is about a lot of things. Ah who can forget the overly, pushy, washed up father who tried to live his big league dream through his son, only to be devestated to find a copy of American Hairdresser tucked between the pages of Baseball America.

All I can say is “Take Me Out To The Ballgame”. Oh and if you’re not for baseball, you’re for the Swine Flu.

Play Ball!