At the risk of being cornered in the frozen food aisle and clubbed with frosty jalepeno poppers, I’m just going to say it…baseball is not a sport.

Saying this during the World Series with the home team in the game is ill-advised, and some might say provocative, but I have thought this through and constructed a completely logical argument.

In fact, this is the sustaining discussion of my marriage. Eric and I have had this on-going philosophical debate for over 15 years. I really think it is the glue that keeps us together. Eat that, Hallmark.

So over the years, we have devised an elaborate rubric about what is and is not a sport. Eric’s rules are somewhat draconian, but form the basis of our evaluation system.

Eric postulates that a sport has to have 2 opposing teams or individuals, struggling against each other for counter purposes, which have to be scored objectively. So, that rules out any individual activity where there is judging, such as gymnastics or diving. Those are exhibitions. It rules out anything where you don’t have an opponent other than yourself, like golf. That is a pastime. And anything where you are racing against a clock trying to better your own time, like downhill skiing, is a competition. Why? Because you can do better than everyone else that day and still suck in general. Basically, his rule includes soccer, which I agree, is the holy of holies.

It’s a pretty good rule, but it still leaves room for things I think are stupid, and that cannot stand. So, I have amended the rule to include a physical requirement for a sport. You have to be acting under your own power. Nascar is out. Firstly because it’s stupid and secondly because the car does all the work. Now I know some will say that Nascar takes amazing strength and agility. Maybe, but if simply resisting G forces is the basis for sporting, then my last bout with the stomach flu qualifies me as some mega athlete. So, Nascar is out.

Secondly, some physical exertion is required. This is where baseball falls down. You cannot be an elite athlete at the top of your game and be tubby with a face full of chaw. Sorry, but baseball is a pastime and a boring one at that. If there were a lions chasing the runners and a pit of hot coals under the pitcher, I would be willing to reconsider. But as such, baseball is hereby denied sport status.

Lastly, there is a clause around being generally annoying. This clause doesn’t render an activity completely sport-less but it does demote some to sub-sport status. Can’t stand the squeak of basketball shoes on the courts, but I also can’t deny those people are athletes, even though most of their ability comes from a genetic accident of freakish height. And any American football teams wearing silly throw-back outfits is temporarily suspended from sport hood.

So with that settled, Go RANGERS (and I do mean the Scottish Premier League Soccer Team).

When I mention to anyone of my generation that I was a gymnast in my youth, I see their eyes glisten with stars and stripes. Mary Lou immediately comes to mind, and I immediately skyrocket in their estimation. Slightly below Jesus, Mary Lou is.  What they can’t fathom is that I was a particularly bad gymnast.  After all, how could anyone who spends 10 or so years devoted to something not be dazzling or at least smart enough to quit?  They apparently don’t know me very well. I should like to say that I “dabbled” in gymnastics. That would accurately reflect the results, but it sounds too whimsical and carefree. Instead I met gymnastics head-on, quite literally. There wasn’t an apparatus that I didn’t fall off with amazing consistency. And it’s not like you want to “just miss” the bar, beam or vault.  You want to hurl yourself completely clear of that bastard. So, I concentrated most of my time on the floor–harder to fall off, but turns out your head serves effectively in interrupting momentum. So does your coach. I still feel badly for kicking him in the jaw on that convulsive back flip.  Brings new meaning to “stick the landing.” So, while there are no tri-color ribbons or trophies cluttering up my garage, I do have shot ankles and some short term memory loss.  So, I’ve got that going for me.

Motherhood embodies many surprises that shock your pre-maternal self. One of these things is actually having to say things out loud that should really be understood. They are universal truths–part of the social contract. And yet, quite recently I found myself telling my oldest son, “I really must insist that you have underwear on when playing the piano. But really nice arpeggios, nonetheless.”

Four days into my retirement from a long and mostly enjoyable career with Accenture, Eric suggested I re-up my blog.  At first flattered that he and others might be missing my ruminations on the human condition and opinions on matters of great consequence, I agreed.  I have not had the time to set free the creative spirit that lay dormant until  time to write the Christmas letter.  Then, I examined his motives a bit more carefully.  I don’t recall his ever reading my blog recounting adventures in Bogotá adopting Nate 4.5 years ago.  I suspect his motive is to re-direct my energies from nordstrom.com

Either way, I’m back, have  time on my hands and stuff to say.  Therefore I am qualified to blog.

On to our topic of the day: unemployment

First the rules:

1.  Engage in an austerity program to stretch out the severance as long as possible.   Let me tell you it sounded much more glamorous in the abstract.  Now that I actually took the package, signed the severance papers, and let my cleaning person go,  it’s a bit more pedestrian. 

2.  Impose rules about the “new you.”  For example,  I have instituted  a net zero policy.  If I bring a non-consumable in, something else has to go.  Unemployment is great for self-imposed order.   There’s also the one about cleaning out one room in the house every week.  Assuming I am able to accomplish rule 1 and enjoy said severance for many months, I should be done just in time for the holiday glut of intake, requiring the complete break-down and re-boot of rule #2. 

3.  Develop hobbies you never had time for.  This is a tough one because often after significant up-front investment, you realize it wasn’t the time-factor preventing you from scrapbooking in the first place — it was the soul-crushing lack of interest.

4.  Find meaningful (and free) stuff to fill the void in your life that used to be occupied by all manners of appointments, meetings, and very time-specific demands on your person.  It’s a bit disorienting at first to realize that you can arrange your day in just about any order you choose, though your waste elimination systems may be specifically geared to function only at the 5 minutes before the hour mark.

5.  No longer in charge of guiding tender minds in pursuit of corporate goals, find other ways to foist your opinions on others through therapeutic venting and pontifications…Blog!