Suicide Squeeze

May 12, 2010
Lucky enough for us, baseball season started a little while back. Which means that the Dodgers are on almost every evening. Now I really do like watching baseball, in fact it is my favorite sport to watch if I had to pick from football, basketball and baseball. But my husband loves the Dodgers. Lets just put it this way, the only time I have seen even a single tear from my husband is when he watches the Kirk Gibson Beyond the Glory special. No tears when we got married, none when we found out we were pregnant, not even a glisten of hope for one when I scream my love for him in a beautiful love song/poem/words that just rhyme. So now my only hope to get some water works are when Poppy is born. I may or may not have pep talks with Poppy about really putting on the charm when it is born. We are talking fist bumping Dad right out of the womb or blowing a kiss and a wink, I need this kid to bring it that day. Ok, back to baseball and the reason for this post. Not only are we lucky enough to watch the game nightly, but we even get to watch Sports Center after the game to watch the highlights and listen to the commentary that Kevin already gave for free during the game. I mean baseball is turning into the gift that keeps on giving. Because Kevin's love for the game is so strong I actually have signed the papers and have become a Dodger fan myself. But last night while the game was on Kevin mentioned something about a "Suicide Squeeze". Right away I am thinking he wants to discuss birthing. I am about to jump up and get all my natural birthing books and go through my notes with him when he quickly starts explaining that it is actually a baseball play. After hearing the explanation I am now clear on the difference. One player trying to squeeze home with the help of another player. Then again as long as one player is doing all the work (the mom), I don't really see a difference.