Our clique is the world, the world is our clique

I find myself not caring about the international baseball tournament next March — except for the fact that the players who are going to be in it may not get their full spring training regimen of stretching exercises and appearing on “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” (I know, I know, the stretching exercises are not that big a deal). Major League Baseball is pretty international as it is anyway, and will no doubt get even more international once all the Cuban players defect during the international baseball tournament.

Also, since I never watched baseball or softball during the Olympics, I can’t get too worked up about their absence from the Games beginning in 2012. But then, I haven’t been that interested in the Olympics at all for the past couple of summers in which they’ve been held. Last summer, we were on the baseball road trip for the second half of the Olympics and I only watched a couple of bits and pieces on the CBC in motel rooms in Detroit and Canada; the first week, I watched some of the opening ceremonies, and then later that week was at a restaurant where I had a good view of a TV showing women’s beach volleyball. I didn’t care who won, but it made me happy to be heterosexual.

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