My middle son says he really misses Sports. I am surprised that I do not. I am sure I will enjoy watching professional and collegiate sports when they return to television, especially since they provide another alternative to watching news shows. I am definitely not tuning into replays of the old games that sports channels are airing. I guess if the Seahawks Super Bowl win came on, I might watch it. But I already know what happened in all the old games. I watch Sports because anything can happen. Only one outcome is possible once it happens. I do not want to watch a replay of my own life even though I love myself more than any athletic team and I like the overall results of my existence so far. I do miss that I cannot enjoy a trip with my family to our neighborhood swimming pool this summer. I do miss a two week cancelled trip to Laguna Beach this August to stay at my sister’s place. I do miss that President Obama is not in charge of the country’s response to the pandemic. I do miss schools being open because I realize what a great job the teachers were doing educating my grandchildren, especially considering my subpar performance as a home school substitute. I do miss seeing friends and extended family. I do miss wandering freely and eating in restaurants without restrictions and fear. I would trade Sports for any and all of those other activities.
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Suicide Squeeze 
It must be nice being so young that you actually remember the winner of every televised sport of yesteryear. I find that one of the upsides to getting older is that I don’t remember the winners let alone the scores, so I sometimes watch the re-runs. Of course, that does not include the Mariners 1995 series win over the Yankees which, as the only Mariner playoff worth remembering, has been sufficiently pounded into even my limited memory bank.
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I no longer watch the 1995 playoff clincher against the Yankees because (1) it is a depressing reminder that the high point of 40+ years does not include a World Series game (even a loss) and (2) Ichiro was not playing because Piniella thought he was a batboy sitting between the big sluggers on the bench.
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Wasn’t “Bat Boy” Ichiro’s real nickname? Certainly he had the necessary bat boy characteristics: tiny little guy, no leadership traits, kept his mouth shut, rarely hit the ball out of the infield, terrified of the right field wall.
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I hear Ichiro may play for the Steelheads, the Pilots, or the Mist this year.
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Bat Boy will not be Mist by the Mariners.
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True that. Collin Cowgill and Daniel Vogelbach will likely make M’s fans forget all about Suzuki.
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