Apple Pie and Stuff

So thanks partly in fact to the fact that I don't really know hardly anyone around here yet (awwww... poor wittle Shteevie), I haven't gotten too homesick yet.  I know, it doesn't make any sense, but stay with me here - it will eventually.  I say that because I really haven't done that much of anything (and when I have, it's been fun), so when I'm not out somewhere, I'm sitting in my empty apartment with nothing to do besides surf the net or watch the one or two DVDs that I brought with me on the plane (my stuff apparently arrived in port today, so I may actually have furniture and more than a week's worth of clothes within a ten days or so - yea!!!). Therefore, it's a little piece of home, and I'm okay.

But deep down there must be some bigger yearning.  I say this because I was riding my torture machine home and I heard a sound that would normally make my skin crawl.  *tink*  But this time it was different.  *tink*  This time there was excitement.  *tink*  This time there was the sudden feeling of finding a long-lost treasure.  Yes, what I was hearing was a ball being hit by an aluminum bat.  *tink*  Now, like I said, normally that sound just makes me cringe.  It's not natural.  It doesn't belong with the game.  The game is meant to be played with wooden bats, not metal.  Besides the sound of a well-struck golf shot, and maybe the sound a bottle of Turk3y makes when it's opened for the first time, there's nothing quite like the sound of a wooden bat connecting with a baseball.  Pure magic.  

So when I got to where the sound was coming from, lo and behold, I find baseball being played.  Turns out that there is actually baseball in this town.  There is a local club team that has two different levels, plays games every weekend and practices twice a week.  And come the day after tomorrow, I'll be playing on one of those teams.  Now I know what you're thinking.  Comedy and baseball rarely mix, and while this will probably result in high hilarity if you like train wrecks, it won't be one of those time where the comedy works.  But dammit, I'm going to try.  

I might even be able to get away with it.  I'm going to be playing on the lower level team, which is the one for just having fun and enjoying the game.  And there's only three other American players on the team, so the fact that I grew up with the game may actually make up for the fact that I'm old and out of shape (torture machine not-withstanding).  It's like the language, except backwards - I'm fluent in baseball, so I don't have to think about what I'm doing, I can just do it.  And who knows - with a season of no pressure under my belt, I might even be able to move up to the 'good' team next year.