It's a Brand New Ballgame, Baby

“You think you love now, wait until you hold her in your arms.”
—Retired Southington High School guidance counselor Raymond Walsh

My daughter Laura turned one week old Monday and getting a read on her has been a joy and an adventure.
You learn something every day, you know?

Like the different cries. I’ve quickly identified the “Feed Me” squawk and the slightly louder and more urgent variation that is “Feed Me Now!”
There is the charming whimper of “I Know What You Are Doing is Necessary and in My Best Interests, But It Does Cause Me Mild Discomfort.”

And there is the ear-splitting howl of “I Can’t Believe We Lost to the Kansas City Royals!”

That was just inconsolable. Thursday night sure was rough.
Happily, it was quickly rectified and the next three nights were a breeze of consistent patterns of sleep, feeding and general contentment.

Because, of course, my little bambina is a Red Sox fan.

But please understand, being a parent who wants to foster independent thinking in his child, she arrived in Red Sox Nation on her own volition. We first tuned in Wednesday night, bottom of the sixth vs. Oakland, and the first at-bat Laura witnessed resulted in a three-run homer by Big Papi.
And by the end of the weekend, if I read her facial expressions right, she was asking about Manny Delcarmen’s trade value.

“With the emergence of Daniel Bard and the imminent arrival of Michael Bowden, we have plenty of right arms in the bullpen,” her intent little eyes seemed to say, and I certainly couldn’t argue with the logic or tear myself away from their gaze.

My bambina is also a cycling fan, I’ve been happy to learn. She loves watching the Tour de France after breakfast as I talk to her in my limited Italian.
She has yet to form firm opinions on these pursuits, but she does have questions.

“What’s the peloton? Who’s in the yellow jersey?”
“Do you know anything beyond Ciao Bella and Bon Giorno?”
“What’s a Category 1 climb?”

And this just the other day: “What became of that British sprinter Nan Linda said was cute?”

Boy crazy just like her maternal grandmother. Well, that’s an issue to be reckoned with at a later date.
For now, la mia bambina, all developments have been quite agreeable to Daddy, especially the Tour de France fascination, because there’s a fine, fine Trek 5000 I would like to someday turn over to you.

I can’t wait to teach you how to ride. No training wheels. We’re going straight to two wheels. I’ll run behind, holding the seat, until you master balance and can pedal sure and steady on your own and go long into the day.

And I can’t wait to teach you how to throw a ball and how to bat both ways, and to take you to Fenway and teach you how to keep score.
I will endeavor to explain the finer points of the game, bambina. Your daddy, already a fan, has begun to appreciate more and more, since the day you were born, the nobility of the sacrifice and the fine art of moving the runner along.