Other sports are games. Baseball is love.

There was a major league baseball game in Philadelphia today, played between the Phillies and the Atlanta Braves. I found myself up against a strange set of feelings; there was baseball being played for real, but I didn't want either team to win. Never the less, by the time I got home, Alexis and I wanted nothing more than to watch the remaining innings of the game.

We're both exhausted, not sleeping well, and probably should have been in bed by the time the 8th inning rolled around. But there was nothing in the world either of us wanted to do more than watch that game. I have strongly negative feelings about both the teams on the field tonight, but watching them there, playing their game, their love-- that was magical. And in the end, it's easy to look at the result of tonight's game this way: we're a half a game up on the Phillies going into tomorrow's game. It's more a loss for Philadelphia than it is a win for Atlanta in mine eyes.

There was some super-fine pitching going on there, too, even if I do hate Derek Lowe.