The Mom Is a Harsh Manager

Mom likes baseball. A lot. Her favorite team used to be the Atlanta Braves. She knew all the players and their stories (not so much the stats) until they sold off some of her favorites and TBS stopped carrying the games. Now we watch the Tampa Bay Rays (formerly the Devil Rays but you know how dangerous it is to mention Ol' Scratch's name down here in the South. Think of the children.).

Actually, Mom likes a specific kind of baseball. Less than two hours with a score of 8-5 plus or minus 3. She was bored to tears by Dallas Braden's recent perfect game. She yells at the batters if they take to many pitches (regardless of where they might be in the strike zone) and yells at the pitchers for taking too long between pitches. She goes to bed at ten and the game had better be in the bag, if not over, by then. She has limited tolerance for failure. If you throw to first you'd better catch the runner. If you try to steal you'd better make it. Hit the ball. Catch the ball. There is no try, young Jedi. Only do or do not.