Last night, we had an enormous party, a Halloween celebration with plenty of food, a lively (though disappointing) game on the screen, and steaming bowls of menudo with hot corn tortillas. The hours that our caregivers spent- cutting tripe and pig's feet, opening up cans of hominy, decorating cookies, and baking cupcakes - culminated in a delightful party. Even then, I took a quiet comfort in believing, knowing, this series would be won by the Giants
I was in Burger King earlier, and opened up a book when I heard the song "God Bless Texas" on the store radio. It occurred to me that some compassionate soul was anticipating tonight's World Series game. I believe whoever it is anticipated the imminent loss of the Texas Rangers, and wants peace for the team and their fans.
Last night's game settled my heart. I am not a sports fan, but when the Giants were playing the Phillies, I wheeled into the living room, stared up at the 52" screen, and discovered baseball. I went to a game many years ago, the only baseball game I ever watched through nine innings. My mother had tickets to watch the Oakland A's. It was a great experience. I watched the people in the stands. I watched the beer purchases of the people in front of us. I truly enjoyed myself at the ball game.
Still, my enjoyment was for being outside, the fresh air, the joy of the fans. Finally, well into the game, a hitter knocked a ball out of the park. I exclaimed quietly in response, and my mother grabbed my arm, and whispered that that is the wrong team. The A's lost that game that night to the Texas Rangers.
Tonight I raised my newfound appreciation for baseball to a fevered pitch. My sister brought pizza, and we watched the game broadcast from Arlington, and my fresh enthusiasm for baseball had elements of bloodlust. Uncultured and immature, I felt devastated by last night's win to Texas.
Friends have told me that they wanted to win here, in the Bay Area. Impatient, and doubting, I wanted a quick kill. I was nott bothered by the silence from the bleachers as the last strike was thrown. I felt a joy, a peace, with waves of exhilaration. I ate pizza and orange soda. I write this to all you, with a quiet satisfaction that my sanity will mediate itself, at least until this time next year.
As for my responsibility to vote, my ballot has already been cast. So, this is my report for now.
Thank you for reading.