The only major memory I have of t-ball, besides a vague belief that if you dropped me off in San Jose I could show you where the field was (or maybe is - but probably was). The memory is of me sliding into home (for some unknown, probably unnecessary reason) and having some fat older kid step on my pinkie finger (I think left?) while wearing cleats. This kid was outfitted in a full-on uniform while the rest of rest of us wore team t-shirts and sneakers. Thanks a lot, overzealous parents of that kid. I remember a lot of pain, and refusing the look at my finger split open at the nail. My coach tried to comfort me by telling me that we'd won because of me, but even at the age of seven I knew that was BS because we never kept score.
I went to Candlestick Park once, around that time, with a friend and her dad. I only remember that it was mind-numbingly cold. Later, in freshman year of college, I went with a friend to Pac Bell Park. It was less cold, but the game still didn't mean anything to me. I liked hanging out with my friend in San Fran.
In sophomore year, I began dating my now ex, and his father had season tickets to the Dodgers. So I became a Dodgers fan. Did I enjoy it? Yes, although I found it hard to know that one team had to lose for another to win. I enjoyed the opportunity to sit outside on a nice day, and sometimes we'd bring the Sunday paper and read it and do Sudoku during the less exciting parts of the game.
Do I miss it? Maybe. It's not exactly worth the hassle and expensive.
My boyfriend is a fan of the Rangers, and I want them to win. I root for them. You guys can do it 'cause we believe in you.

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