America's Favorite Pastime

Scott loves baseball. And Zach loves his dad. The combination of those two things has created a rather funny phenomenon in our house, one that makes me laugh every night (yes, baseball is on in our house every night). I can actually see how hard Zach is trying to learn about baseball, in order to have something to talk about with and to impress his idol. So night after night, the two of them sit down to watch some portion of a baseball game, usually the Twins, of course. And I listen to Zach talk non-stop, asking questions, and mimicking whatever Scott says in response to the happenings of the game. It sounds a little like this:

Daddy, are we hitting? Who is hitting? Are we hitting now? Who's dealing? Is that Baker? There's #25 - that's Thome! Who's hitting now, are we hitting? How many outs are left? When are we going to hit? Was that a home run? Are we hitting? Who's that? Oh - Mauer is up, that mean's Morneau's next! Are we hitting? When are we going to hit?

And I have to give Scott credit, he sits there and answers every question, no matter how repetitive or ridiculous. I've said it before and I'll say it again: he has waaay more patience than I do!

So while there are some rather large holes in Zach's knowledge of baseball basics (he seems to think you either pitch or hit; he doesn't really grasp the idea of other defensive positions), his amazing memory is being put to use. He can tell you who all 5 starting pitchers are, and the batting order for the top half of the Twins line-up. And he knows all the major players' numbers, something that makes me laugh, since there is no sport in which the players' numbers could matter less! But similar to how #28 = Adrian Peterson to Zach, #7 now = Mauer, #1 is Orlando Hudson, and so on. If he spots those numbers (#33 for example) anywhere out in public, he'll holler "look mom - there's Morneau!"

He can also now read the box score on the tv - tell you what the score is, who is winning, what inning it is, how many outs there are, and if there are any runners on base. He knows "we" boo the Red Sox and cheer for the Yankees (if they aren't playing the Twins).

Besides using all this knowledge to impress his dad, Zach has incorporated it into his stalling routine. Many evenings, after he's been in bed for 20+ minutes, talking and singing to himself, he'll holler for Scott (or me, if he hears me going to bed, which these days isn't long after he does!). When we inquire what he needs, he'll say "what's the score? Is it still 2-1?"

And now, when Zach wakes up in the morning, the first question - literally, I do not exaggerate - is "who won the game last night? The Twins or the xx?" And he floored both of us the morning after he and Scott had been watching a Boston-Tampa Bay game (a rare night when the Twins weren't on tv... so another baseball game was). That morning, the question was "Who won the game - the Red Sox or the Rays?"