Rhino is Fino

I met my dad and one of his friends downtown at Bosco's tonight for dinner. Since they were running late, I took a seat at the bar with a house brewed Scottish ale and the Astros/Cards overhead. I figured since all the boys seem to posting on Baseball these days, its only appropriate that I throw in my own 2 cents. I come from an Irish Catholic background on my father's side, with St Louis as the hub for our well-procreated family. Growing up, I was aware of two things regarding baseball (thanks to my dear aunts, who made sure that even as an Arkansan I was in the loop): 1. Mets are pondscum & 2. if you want to rebel, be a Cubs fan. Well, thanks to WGN and my distance from the mothership, I found it quite easy to be rebellious. In my junior high school softball playing days, I had imitation baseball cards with my picture on the front & stats on the back (the only thing our team was really good at was posing for these pics), and my favorite players listed as Ryan Sandberg and Mark Grace. With the risk of welcoming identity theft, I still to this day use jersey numbers for some of my pass codes. I once even owned a Mets cap (which I assume pondscum is worse than rebels), but that was mainly because I liked the colors. However, as I have matured, I have learned to settle into a stable appreciation for the proper team, the St Louis Cardinals. After sitting at the bar for 1/2 an hour, my dinner companions had arrived and I left the game tied at 4-4. I took my mind off of the game to enjoy pork chops with coffee bean bbq sauce and mashed sweet potatoes (G-Dawg ~ they weren't as good as Texas Rotissere's). On my way to the restroom later in the evening, I was informed by my bartender friend that St Louis had won. And all was right in the universe.