What a game! What nail biting, what shouting, what euphoria! I know, they have to win tonight as well, but they can't take away last night. It was what baseball is about - the surprise, the errors, the hopes dashed, the thrill as the ball goes over the fence. Ah, satisfaction. Both teams are playing so well, so fairly, and with such good grace. The coaches are wonderful. La Russa glum and trying not to bite his nails, Washington applauding and emotional. We get the whole gamut of the game just in the coaches alone.
Now my husband and I are about to go see a Pizzaro exhibit, and I can't think of a connection, except I expect happiness from the sight of the paintings. Human beings are physical, and it's a gift to the apex of that. They are emotional, and you get that in baseball and painting. And they are creative, and you get that both places as well. In baseball it's strategy and fluidity, in painting it's letting the moment come through you and your skills and engage you deeply. Actually, the later is true for the first and vice versa. Hey, I've just proved that there is no difference at all between baseball and great art! Or not.
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