Then there is the combo model. Time was the frequent phone calls..."Wow, did you see that or @#$% did you see that?", were the exchange. After the brief conversation, you hang up, until the next play. Depending on the outcome and the party, the calls either stop or the the analysis begins.
Now we text.
My daughter and grandson dined with my ex so I was responsible to provide updates of the Phillies game. No big deal.
In the first inning, the screaming texts began from a friend whose wife refuses to watch a game with him. His ritual is to put his daughters to bed, grab a beer, sunflower seeds and a cup for the shells.
(I did point out to him they have shelled seeds. I digress.)
He sent a photo of his set up.
The uncharacteristic first batter walk by the good Doc, sent nervous chills down my spine. He looked out of sorts.
Maybe he will settle down as the game continues.
Utley's sloppy play.
Ok Howard can't hit a ho-ho pitch but isn't he a fast ball hitter were examples of his frustration.
The fifth inning photo of the Jumbo Irish Whiskey bottle spoke volumes.
My daughter and grandson made it safely home which reduced the number of texts.
Lincicum's hair was a topic. Does he get his extensions at the same place you do? he asked.
Probably, but he doesn't add color. When you think about, with his cap off, he looks like Michael Jackson, I replied.
Nope, he is darker. (He is now out of control, but that was funny.)
When the Phillies 8th inning specialist stepped on the mound, my massage therapist and dear friend surfaced. Being a life long Philly phan he was on suicide watch.
"Typical Philly team they are going to find a way to lose," he wailed.
The last time I checked the Phillies actually won it all in 2008. The Phillies have played managed to pull out wins, with injuries and a dreadful offense all season, I countered.
Well, he was not having it. Even though, Madson, shut down the side.
Heartbreak time was his retort.
In the final inning, Werth's homerun gave us breathing room. The table was set for Victorino to be a hero. A few more insurance runs would have eased the anxiety level for even the most optimistic fan.
We got nothing.
Now my massage therapist is beside himself, and my other friend has grown silent. (I can visualize him forgoing the glass and swigging straight from the bottle.)
Grab your rally towel and remember 2008 Lights out Lidge, I cheered.
I had moved to my bedroom but pacing. (Some people drink, some cuss, I pace and cuss).
Back from what seemed to be a long @#$$% commercial break, Here we go, my MT sighed.
First batter, got him out. (I could feel the good Lidge was on the hill).
Lidge moved uncharacteristically swift last night
I stopped pacing.
We all said our collective good nights.
One more beer for the wrap up with Ricky Bo for my one friend.
My daughter surfaced...Go Phillies! Sleep well Mom, she instructed.
I will after ice my thumbs....
(We found out after the game, Doc suffered a groin strain. This explains tons. But, he gutted it out five big ugly innings. Unbelievable)