Sports Fan

Last year Kate became a Celtics fan, enough to understand Rondo's contributions on the offensive boards, Perk's ability to be more than a big galoot and Tony Allen's trick-or-treat game. In other words, more than a casual fan. We weren't able to keep our cable subscription past early December, so we only got to see the first few games of the season. But by that time Eva had become a TV veteran, with her daily dose of Signing Time while Kate or I were doing chores or showering. For 30 minutes to an hour a day, Eva would be stationed in her Bumbo six feet away from the TV, watching Hopkins and co. bounce through another day.

Of course, there was dinner too, which in the condominium almost always took place in front of the TV (including Roses & Thorns), so Eva would by default watch what we were watching too--either a DVD, or else a little sports.

And it became quickly apparent that Eva adored sports, particularly basketball and hockey.

And why not? Especially on a hi-def screen, the images are spectacular, there's constant motion, shifting patterns and constant rise and fall in the noise. The ice rink, with all the players drifting smoothly across it, is dazzling. And the basketball players' uniforms are as bright as ornaments, and though not as swiftly as in hockey, the players are in constant motion, gathering, dispersing and recombining later all over the floor. There's a lot for a baby to pay attention to.

Eva would jump and laugh even more excitedly than at the start of a Signing Time video.

I, of course, was thrilled. Kate was kind of happy too.

Fast forward to now. We've set ourselves back up with (less expensive) cable and internet service, including the local sports networks, of course. And today marked the final day of the Red Sox' 2010 season.

A farewell and thanks to two players in particular: Jason Varitek, captain now for nearly ten years and as professional and reliable a catcher as has ever played the game. And Mike Lowell, third baseman and power hitter who quietly and with impeccable grace endeared himself to almost every Red Sox fan--not least by hitting plenty of bombs over the Monster. Mike is almost certainly retiring, and Jason likely not, but just as likely will be playing elsewhere next year, as a Crash Davis-type backup and mentor, providing that vaunted and despised "locker-room presence". (The old debate: if a guy can't bring it on the field any more, what possible leadership can he provide?)

So anyway, we've got TV again. This afternoon, Kate took a few hours by herself to go bargain-hunting at a nearby clothing depot, and I set up my workshop downstairs and did other puttering-type activities. Eventually Eva woke up and wanted food, and she took down a full adult's portion of tuna before I let her loose and started washing dishes.

The Sox' final game was against the Yankees. The Bronx Bumblers came into today's game tied in overall record with Tampa Bay for the lead in the AL East, but trailed in head-to-head record against them. So the Sox, out of the postseason, could play spoiler by beating New York. The two teams split a doubleheader yesterday (both games into 10 innings: the first, 6-5 NY; the second, 7-6 Boston). So it came down to today (since Tampa Bay wasn't exactly helping itself this weekend, busily getting swept by Kansas City).

Of course I was interested. This is a blood feud. This is Lakers-Celtics. This game was not meaningless. By winning, the Sox could send New York to Minnesota (AL Central winners), a much tougher opponent than the Texas Rangers (winners of the AL West). If the Sox no longer have the chance to win the Series, then the next-best thing is at every opportunity to screw up the Yankees' season. This game was exactly that.

Granted, New York was starting a scrub on the mound, so their priority was to rest their best guys over winning first place, but still. Every bit counts. The Twins are a better team top-to-bottom than the Rangers, and the Metrodome is a tougher ballpark than Arlington.

I turned on the TV, so I could listen from the kitchen. And much to my surprise (and the little girl simply won't allow a candid photo when she knows a camera's in the vicinity):

I was too slow. She'd been laughing and clapping and jumping, watching the screen.

Later on, the Sutherland family enjoyed leftovers in front of the TV, a hallowed Sunday tradition from my own adolescence. And while Kate kind of zoned out, the baby didn't:

I mean, every baby starts out with limitless potential, and then winds up cut down to size as an adult, like the rest of us. It happened to me too, I'm fine with the course of life. Eva might wind up loving music (hold her in your arms and bounce to some music, and she'll start dancing too), she might be an intellectual, she might be a hard-core jock. She might be none of these things. It doesn't matter.

It's a whole lot of fun seeing her react to things she really enjoys.