(Taken by me. Top of the 10th inning. Opening Day 2014. INTENSE SPORTS MOMENT.)
Remember in October when I put the totality of my medical knowledge to the task of understanding why I nearly passed out at the two postseason Buccos games I attended?
I determined that, medically speaking, it was a combination of the noise, an inner ear thing, standing up too fast, not eating enough, screaming too loud, anxiety — all those things all at once = fainting.
Well, at the home opener when Neil Walker hit the walk-off, it was super loud, I jumped out of my seat having eaten nothing yet having imbibed alcohol, I screamed at the top of my lungs and guess what? I was fine. Not one spell of darkness enveloping my vision and pulling me into the abyss.
Therefore, I have now 100% medically determined that it is simply a matter of this: I cannot handle postseason Pirates ball.
That’s it. It’s not the noise or my inner ear or screaming or eating or drinking or jumping.
It’s weakness of constitution. This is an actual medical condition discovered by me and I will be writing a paper about it to appear in the Journal of Totally Fake Medical Discoveries.
1. Thou shalt not get to third base on the Kiss Cam.
The Kiss Cam is tradition. A chance to awkwardly high-five your opposite-sex sibling or smooch your honey for all the stadium to see. A chaste peck perhaps. Or a more forward full-on smush. I salute your love with my $25 beer (rounding here). Kiss on. But baseball, more than any sport, is meant to be enjoyed by families. Moms, dads, gramps and kids all in a row. So when you find yourself on the Kiss Cam being urged to lay one on your neighbor, don’t turn it into late-night Cinemax. Don’t shove your tongue down her throat. Don’t, for the love of God, round first base and head sprinting for third as if Nick Leyva is frantically waving you on while thousands of children watch. Get a room. This I command yinz.
A pox on ye if ye disobey them.