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 Texas : Features : Columns : Letters From North America :
Baseball Moms
by Peary Perry
Peary Perry

Itís obvious to me that the managers and powers to be for major league baseball teams are not women. Let me clear that statement and say that if they are women, they certainly cannot be mothers.

Here we are in the time of the year where we sit in front of our televisions and watch as the final two teams duke it out over the next week or so to determine who will be the next winners. Our dogs are upset over the lateness of our hours since we are going to bed later and later as the innings get extended. But there I go again, getting off the subject, which is mothers and baseball teams.

Look around the dugouts as the games get televised. Do you think any respectable mother would allow her sons to play in that filth? Why, my wife has conniption fits each time they pan around the dugouts. There are paper cups scattered all over the place, pieces of paper on the floor and stuck in every nook and cranny. God knows how much gum someone has to scrape up every few days. The place is a mess. Chairs are in disarray, towels thrown all over the place. Germs must be everywhere. No one seems to give a hoot about cleanliness or sanitary conditions.

And they spit. Lord, help us Ödo they spit.

They chew sticks, gum, tobacco, paper, and perhaps nails for all we know. Every mouth on both teams is in constant motion from the start of the game to the final out. Itís amazing to think they would have the energy to even talk and give interviews after chewing so hard for so long. You wonder what happened to their manners, they sneeze, cough and wheeze in every direction with total abandon and disregard for the health of their fellow players. Looks to me that if one guy gets the flu, then the rest arenít far behind.

Your mother and my mother would have a stroke if they were allowed to sit in there for thirty minutes or so. Thatís why they arenít allowed in there.

Iíve had women ask me why they call it a Ďdug outí or a Ďbull pení. I have to say I donít have a clue, but itís apparent there arenít any curtains or decorator cushions evident from my viewpoint. The terminology fits the conditions. Maybe pigpen would be more descriptive. We need to bring this to the attention of the major league owners.

Makes you wonder what the locker rooms look like. We wonít know since the cameras are seldom allowed back there. I canít imagine it being much better, can you?

So do you think its part of the scouting report to evaluate just how far a potential player can spit? Maybe they go to his house and look at his room to see if heís really messy. Most likely if he was neat and tidy, then he would probably get a couple of marks off and might not make the team as well as some slob who throws all of his clothes on the floor for his mother to pick up.

On the other hand, looking at the kind of bucks these guys knock down I suppose itís ok for them to do just about anything they want to do.

If I was making a gazillion bucks for playing a game, I suppose I could act childish as well.

And not feel bad about it at all. I could even learn to spit.

© Peary Perry
Comments go to pperry@austin.rr.com

Letters From North America

October 27, 2004
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