The conversion continues

This week, I defended Alex Cora to my father, the would-be Red Sox fan. The Mets schedule is hanging in my office.

My son’s favorite players, in no particular order, are Mr. Met, Derek Jeter, and Albert Pujols, though my boy loves saying the name of the Mets’ starting catcher, Rod Bah-ha-ha’s.

Catching some baseball on vacation

I haven’t forgotten you, loyal readers (all 2 of you). We’ve just been on vacation a little bit.

Watching Old-Timer’s Day with My Father the would-be Sportswriter, and thinking of Thurman Munson, who died on this day 29 years ago, while trying to educate the Baby in the lore of baseball (and bunny cars).

A few days ago, the Yankees traded for Detroit’s Ivan Rodriguez, and I thought the same thing this blogger did at Bronx Banter: what would Munson have thought about the Yankees acquiring a catcher with the nickname of “Pudge,” the same as his hated Red Sox rival Carlton Fisk?

Anyway, more blog posts in the future, after vacation. Enjoy the summer.

Ball, ball, ball, ball, ball!

The Baby is in total Ike from “South Park” stage now — he says a three-word sentence of recognizable words, and then the equivalent of five paragraphs of baby talk. Thankfully, the top of his head doesn’t detach and pop up and down like Ike’s.

Here’s a sample I tried to transcribe last night:

“Ameeto passh, paasch! Shtash, opeen, malk kootch. Ashtoo baasch koosh. Peete schaan. Uh-oh. Lid. All done. Vamash maam. All set. Dowsaurs. Baack. Baack a beez. Darwars. Thaas. All set. Daamee. Fwouwaur. Boossooseet.”

Tulips and burritos

We walked up the street and he pointed out each of the bunches of tulips growing in the sidewalk gardens, purples and reds and yellows and oranges coming up out of the ground, surrounded by low black iron mini-fences. He liked the steps of the brownstones, too, liked to say “stoop.” He got too distracted by the lights and sounds of the burrito joint, though, so we got it to go, and went home to eat and play baseball on the back patio, the baby throwing his whole body into every pitch, so much so that he toppled onto the ground, giggling.