Calling it
Watching the ballgame last night, and the Texas pitcher Kameron Loe went down in the count against Justin Morneau of the Twins. Loe ran it to 3-0, then brought in a strike on Morneau’s compulsory take. So now a 3-1 count, perfect environment for a slugger.
My daughter gets up from the sofa and asks if she can get a snack.
“Sure,” I say, “but first you need to watch this home run.” She turns to the screen and, on cue, Morneau swats the next pitch over the centerfield wall.
“How you’d know that would happen?” she asks. “Experience,” I say, with proper dramatic pause.
Now, it’s very important that I never ever try this trick again. Because at this moment I am the soothsayer of baseball fans within the confines of my household, all-knowing, all-seeing. Things can only go down hill from here.
