It's Victoria Day here in Canada. In my neck of the woods there is very little actual celebrating of Queen Victoria's birthday. Instead, the May long weekend means one thing around my house. Baseball. Every May long weekend there is a ball tournament and that means for a few days we are punished, um, I mean thrilled to have the opportunity to sit on hard wooden bleachers for hours on end during pour rain, freezing cold, or blistering heat. This weekend we've had all three.
I confess that I'm a rather enthusiastic spectator. That means I'm a screamer. I yell, "You can do it (insert name)!" to every one of our pitchers and batters and other nonsensical comments like "he's coming!" to warn the catcher someone's trying to steal home or "C'mon on now, up and over" to encourage the pitcher. Then there's "c'mon trim that tree" or "to the fence now" to bolster the hitter. It's a huge responsibility to be the official screamer on a team. It's a dirty job but somebody's gotta do it :)
During the non-tournament season I've been known to sneak off with my laptop and write a few pages in my car. It's surprising how a bad call by the ump can translate into someone being murdered on the page he he.
Are you a baseball fan? Are you a screamer?