And now for a non-IR moment

As some of you know, soccer has sorta lost its allure to me after my team, Manchester United, won it all last year. We won the league and the European championship. Now there isn't much to play for. The best player, Ronaldo is being a jerk about wanting to leave the team that made him a star for Real Madrid. My other team, the US national team, is playing some of the worst soccer I have ever seen, even though the players are supposedly getting better and more experienced.

So I have pretty much moved on full time to baseball. Going back to my first childhood love has been a fun experience. It is nice to remember what it was like to be a kid. To idolize Steve Garvey, then Jim Abbot, then Barry Bonds (yes, I liked him back when he was a skinny kid). By my count I have been to 34 Cubs games this year with four more to go (ain't a sabbatical and a flexible schedule grand).


Baseball brings everything I love together, stats and luck. Statistics are about finding means and averages, knowing what to expect based on the past. That is the whole point of numbers, to tell a story. Baseball is pretty much like that in that most players preform pretty much as expected given a certain amount of at bats and innings. Yet, there are always those that luck out, those that have a career year that no one expected, like Geovanny Soto or Ryan Dempster.

And then there is the other part of baseball I love, the stories, the pain, and excitement of being a fan. Of rooting for your home team, and when they do well, everything is right in life. As my friend said, it must be nice to be a guy and have your whole day made by a sports team. But such is life.

Baseball also is about experiences, good and bad. And this story is one of the best, most heartbreaking, stories I have ever read. It is not a fun read, but sometimes the best ones are like this, as is life. It is what it is.