I'll be the first to admit I'm the fairest of fairweather fans, but... go Cards! Our bottom-of-the-twelfth, two-out homerun had me shrieking like an inebriated redneck. This morning I went tearing through loads of unfolded laundry to pull out anything red for the girls to wear.
Matilda, being nine, is starting to find her sense of style, and right now she's using me as a guide. That is, whatever I pick out for her to wear is not what she should be wearing. I tossed a red t-shirt at her as she came out of the shower. "Here, support your team!" I said.
She then gave me her requisite list of reasons why she should not wear that particular shirt: too long, too loose, too cold, too red.
"You have to wear that shirt," I told her. "It's your lucky shirt. The Cardinals have never lost a game when you've worn it."
Matilda looked at the shirt in her hand. "I've never worn this when they've played."
"Details," I said. "Look at me, I'm wearing my lucky red sweater.
"Mom, I don't think that sweater was very lucky for the person who started knitting it."
Anyway, not to end on an unrelated downer but this sort of thing ought to make intelligent people ill.