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If the games were always this exciting, we wouldn't need $17 beer.
Football coaches spritz their troops with spittle. NASCAR drivers get punchy in a barroom-brawl, "them's fightin' words!" manner. But for the sheer magnitude of nuts-losing paroxysm, no sport can match baseball—and, in particular, these titans of tantrum.
Lou Piniella
Whenever we see one of Piniella's exquisitely choreographed on-field explosions (step-step-curse-step-kick-dirt-step-jazz-hands-step-kick), we can't help but wonder how he reacts to frustration off the diamond. If the kid at the Arby's drive-thru gives him a beef-and-cheddar rather than a bacon-beef-and-cheddar, does he exit the car, berate the teen mercilessly in front of his peers, then douse him with horseradish sauce?
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Full disclosure: I'm kind of a nerd and there was a time in my life when Dungeons and Dragons was totally awesome. Now that that's out of the way, there's something I need to address. The willingness to tote around a bag full of colorful dice has always gotten nerd-types made fun of, but now that baseball is back I am reminded that fantasy sports are every bit as nerdy as D&D and World of Warcraft. Argue all you want, but my bag of holding is virtually overflowing with evidence.
THE COSTUMES:
Nerds: They dress up like their characters and head off to conventions to hang out with other dressed-up dorks.
Jocks: They spend hundreds of dollars buying hats, jackets, shirts, customized license plate covers, can coozies, player cards, salsa bowls, memorabilia and jerseys with someone else's name plastered across the back. Then they go pay more money to sit in an arena full of like-minded role players and yell at each other for hours at a time.
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