Mariner's Game with Tom

Beer, baseball, peanuts and a pal. What could be more American than that? Last night was the only game I'll catch this season, and man, Tom and I picked a good night. There was nothing about the evening I did not enjoy, from it's beginning (involving a couple of Irish Car Bombs) to it's end (speeding along I-5 with the window down and cool breeze pushing through the car).

Well, actually, there was one little thing. Actually, a little person. A young girl, perhaps 18 years old, with a Yankee's cap on, to be exact. She sat just behind us and two seats to the left. We knew something was wrong right away as she was cheering for the enemy, the NY Yankees. We didn't know what we were in for until Alex Rodriguez stepped up to the plate. From her two little lungs she released a mighty scream of support, in defiance of the sweeping rounds of boos that A-Rod was receiving from his former Seattle fans. The first one caught us off guard, and something rattled loose in my left ear.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOH!!!!"

Tom and I exchanged glances and the game continued on. But the further into the game we got, and the more the Yankees were losing, the louder and more insistent she became. At one point I turned around to address our portly little back-seat sports fanatic. "Wow, that's really loud, are you fin..."

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOH!!!!"

"That's quite a pair of lu...."

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOH!!!!"

"Can you please st......"

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOH!!!!"

My fingers flew to my ears as the barrage continued to rage, and I watched Tom's fist clench and unclench against his thigh. "Wouldn't it just be something to snap, to just go postal on her!" Tom exulted, and I can picture those images of violence filling his mind. I was having a lot of unpastoral thoughts myself. A-Rod was walked and she nearly popped out of her skin with the pure ecstacy of seeing her bat-weilding god trot slowly to first.

How do people get to be that way?