Guys at Baseball Games.

 I went to a Woosox game last night, partly because of wanting to see Red Sox players who might come up, but mostly because I like seeing the crowd at a minor league game once a year.  I usually go to see the Fisher Cats here in Manchester, but I had never been to Polar Park before and was still bummed that my earlier attempt this year was called on account of wind and cold. But not until after I'd driven an hour to get there.  So of course I did the smart thing, choosing a game that was in danger of being called because of rain and driving over an hour to that.

I had never gone alone before, so enjoyed myself wandering, not having to worry that Someone Else was worried that I might have gotten lost. I reflected on the number of older men - men who were both portly and starboardly, if you get my drift - who came to baseball games alone.  They were a rather sorry, weird-looking guys, and I wondered what that was about. 

Then I remembered that I was an old guy at a minor league baseball game by myself and decided not to think about it anymore.