Condiments and Accoutrements

I ate a philly cheesesteak at the Rangers game Saturday night and it was silly good, but I think I may have offended cheesesteak lovers everywhere when I went to the condiment stand and put mustard on it. Are you supposed to put condiments on philly cheesesteaks, or is the beef, cheese, pepper, and onion combination supposed to be enough? I don't know these things. But mustard sounded like a suitable supplement at the time and it was indeed good. We went to the game with Angela's friend Kelli, and after I finished my cheesesteak I helped Kelli chip away at monstrous pile of super nachos that she was just picking at. I was a pig. I wanted an ice cream sundae in an upside-down baseball helmet as well, but I didn't go there. I got those carbs from Miller Lite instead.

I learned a lot from Kelli Saturday night. She explained what a starting pitcher must do to get an official win, and what the closer must do to qualify for a save. I was intrigued. I started watching baseball with my dad when I was about seven, mainly because we only got three channels out in the Nebraska boonies and we didn't have a satellite, so it was either Kansas City Royals games with my dad or Wizard of Oz re-runs and the like with my mom and sister. But I had gone all this time without knowing that Cordero gets the save only if the Rangers are ahead by three runs or less when he enters the game. Fascinating. I love picking Kelli's sports-oriented brain. And she's straight as a board. Go figure.

We were three of the first twenty thousand through the gates, so we each got one of those Ranger hats that they were giving away. Hey, it's better than a bobble-head. I had stopped wearing hats because I thought that was a total give-in to the stereotype and I've always wanted to be an original, but when I finally put this free Ranger hat on in the 6th inning I looked in the reflection of this little concession area behind us and I realized that hats are cute after all. And there were about ten thousand other women in hats there, so this stereotype nonsense was all in my head. So I may try to be a hat hottie sometimes now. Unless the perceived hat hotness Saturday night was just because I was standing next to a baseball field and mixed in with thousands of other hats. Hmm. I better go try it on again.