Outta The Mouths Of Babes
Behold the innocence of childhood!
“We’re gonna win this game,” my son said in the top of the eighth inning today as the Phils piled on the runs. “And we’re gonna win the playoffs.”
At his age, an uncorrupted nine years, big disappointments consist of parental sugar withholding or video game restrictions. His mother and I have tried our best to shelter him from the foul influences of Phillies baseball, because we know it can lead to harder stuff. But it would be naïve to think the temptation to watch this team doesn’t exist.
Today, little Caesar watched the ball game with your host. Well, kind of. He’s a hyper kid, so Abe Nunez’s at-bats don’t exactly thrill him. Nor does seven innings of one-hit ball by our young ace Cole Hamels. But Ryan Howard? Now you’re talking.
“We’re gonna win the playoffs because Ryan Howard is our secret weapon,” he said as one of his kiddie peers in Houston reached over the outfield wall and stole a homer from The Howitzer. “He’s the best hitter in the league.”
Caesar was not the least bit happy about that kid spoiling Number 57 from our should-be MVP. Here he goes to school every day, our capable school system helping to build the critical foundations necessary for good citizenship. He knows that cheatin’ Texas waif, later seen crying his Astro eyes out, violated a number of societal rules in his misguided effort to catch the ball. And my son had an idea what we Phillies fans should do to exact justice, Hostile City style.
“We should kill him,” he confidently declared.
That’s my boy!