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9-20-2002 - 9:55 a.m.
Revenge of the carnivores Ol Doc Hawk gets home about 4:30 yesterday and hits the front door saying �Have you planned anything for dinner, because I need MEAT?� I seriously doubt that Ray is at any risk for anemia, but I do like how he is such an unapologetic carnivore. My warrior has stopped by the butcher shop on the way home and has hunted down MEAT. 2 monstrous Black Angus beef KC strips, to be specific. He�s had it with boneless, skinless chicken breasts and grilled fish and pasta. Hawk heads out to the deck to fire up the grill because he wants to eat this MEAT before the vegetarians get home with their disapproving looks and tofu smiles. I throw together a salad and brush some zucchini and mushrooms with olive oil for the grill and then microwave some potatoes. Hawk has a hungry look in his eyes, usually reserves for the boudoir. The two cats and Holly are attentive. Maria sniffs the air and announces that something smells good. Hawk serves �em up rare. The steak covered the bulk of my plate, and I must admit, it�s damn good, buttery and garlicky and just as tender as a mother�s love. I slice up about a 1/3 of mine for Maria, who is a carnivore in training and start dispensing little tidbits to the cats and dog while I think no one is looking. They are carnivorous too and should share in our guilty pleasure. Hawk is on a mission and doesn�t share. We let Holly lick the plates clean of evidence. By the time the vegetarians arrive home, we are sipping iced tea on the deck. They are happy to find salad, grilled veggies and baked �taters. Ray and I aren�t hungry, uhhhh, we had big lunches. We are exchanging those conspiratorial �there�s gonna be sex tonight�looks It�s back to low-fat tonight, I swear. Father and Son Night Now this was strange. After dinner, the boys and I are watching the Royals-White Sox game. Byrd is pitching and it�s a good, tight 2-1 game. Top of the ninth, my favorite Royal is up and I sez to the boys �Raul is going to get a homerun, right here.� Raul smacks one hard into right field; it hits the wall but doesn�t go over. Damn! Still Raul gets a double and there�s some good natured bantering in the living room about how I am almost right, but no cigar. Michael Tucker is up next and he bunts, White Sox pitcher makes a good, diving grab and then suddenly, two bared chested maniacs come out of the stands and jump the Royal�s first base coach, Tom Gamboa! Now Gambi is like 54 or something and reported to be a nice, gentle, fatherly sort of guy.
Of course, the Royal�s bench clears with all the players running to their coach�s defense. Neifi Perez is the first Royal to reach Gambi and he�s a-swinging, you know Neifi, he�ll swing at anything. Next thing you know, there is a big pile of men on the field that looks more like football 
than baseball.
Now, I enjoy a pile of men as much as the next fellow, but this is baseball, not European soccer. This is WAY over the top. It turns out that our bare-chested maniacs, who are truly creepy looking are a father and son combo. Whoa, scary to think that this idiot was allowed to bred. Imagine, taking your boy to the ol� ballgame and teaching him that it�s OK to attack the players, particularly a middle aged coach. This really bothers me. Dads are supposed to take kids to the game to learn values like good sportsmanship and fair play. This dad is a skinny little punk with a lot tattoos, not that I have problems with tattoos, but this guy is clearly sleazy�.and stupid. Excuse me, although the coach may be a middle-aged man, he is loved by a whole bench of major league athletes in peak physical condition, that are paid huge amounts of money to swing a piece of lumber and may or may not be taking steroids. �C�mon son, let�s run down on the field and get our asses kicked by some major leaguers� There�s some quality Father and son time for you.
Note to the White Sox: No more free ticket give-aways at the trailor park, OK?
Byrd gets his 17th win, BTW
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