Monday, October 29, 2007


With all of the World Series hoopla (woo hoo!!!), I neglected to mention that yesterday was Confirmation Sunday at my church. Eighteen 9th graders, their parents, mentors, and baptismal sponsors reaffirmed the covenant made at these young people's baptisms. As part of the lead-up to the weekend, there was a banquet on Friday night for the confirmands and parents. Each year, there's a guest speaker after dinner, and this year they asked me to do the speaking. I thought I'd share my words, along with the pictures that accompanied what I said.

So, without further ado, here goes:

I’m a Boston Red Sox fan.

Always have been, always will be. My parents have a picture that was taken of me when I was about 2 years old with a Red Sox cap on. I didn’t have a chance to get it from them, but here’s a similar picture that I had that my grandma took:

You’ll have to take my word that the hat I’m wearing is a Red Sox hat. Of course it was twice as big as my head, and I probably thought it was just some big thing to chew on, but there I was, wearing it. As I got older, I learned more about baseball. I learned how the game worked, I learned more about the teams, and of course was taught more about MY team, the Red Sox. I even had the chance to go to a couple of games at Fenway Park, home of the Red Sox.

This one was taken during my second visit, in 1987. This is the outside of the stadium, and this

is my dad and I inside the stadium with my cousin and uncle. I have one grandmother who’s one of the biggest Sox fans you’ll ever meet. All through junior high and high school, in the days before the internet, she used to send me these big manila envelopes full of newspaper and magazine clippings with stories about the team. She can tell you the starting lineup of just about any Sox team since the 40’s. For Christmas in 1988, when I was in 9th grade, she got me a Red Sox wall hanging (pay special attention to my totally rad 1980's Cliff Huxtable sweater and acid-washed jeans):

Even today, we email back and forth about how “our boys” from Boston are doing. My dad is a Red Sox fan. My mom is a Red Sox fan. All my aunts and uncles are Red Sox fans. I’m raising my son to be a Red Sox fan.

Here we are when he was just over a year old. My grandma had gotten him the warmup suit and hat. He still likes to wear the hat when we watch games on TV. I’ve never lived in Massachusetts, but that’s where my parents grew up, and much of my family still lives in New England, so it was only natural that the professional baseball team from Boston should become my team.

MY team. Are the Red Sox truly MY team? Or are they my family’s team? My mom’s team, my dad’s team, my grandma’s team, and ONLY my team because my family followed them? Well, that’s definitely how it started. I was an inherited fan—it was almost like it was passed down to me. But there came a point in time where I began the process of no longer being a fan just because my family was, and started being a fan because I wanted to.

It was 1986, and I had just started 7th grade. The Red Sox had played the Angels in the playoffs, and had made a miracle comeback to win that series and advance to the World Series. A little history here—the last time the Red Sox won the World Series was in 1918.

There had been times since then where they had come close…1946 1947, 1949, 1967, 1975, 1978, and now, 1986. In game 6, the game had gone into extra innings, but Red Sox were finally just one strike away from winning the whole thing. One strike away. Then disaster struck. A hit here, an error there, and suddenly the game was tied 5-5. Finally, a Mets batter hit a slow roller to first base. All the first baseman had to do was catch the ball, step on first base, and the inning would be over, giving the Red Sox a chance to come back to bat in the next inning, maybe take the lead again.

Instead, the ball rolled through first baseman Bill Buckner’s legs, a runner came around from 2nd base to score, and the game was over. And for the first time in my life, a sporting event made me cry.

There was still one more game to be played in the World Series, but after the way game 6 ended, there wasn’t much doubt as to how game 7 would turn out. The Red Sox had lost their fire. The Mets won game 7 easily, won the World Series, and the drought continued until they finally won the World Series in 2004.

HOWEVER…game 6 of the 1986 World Series is when the Red Sox stopped being my family’s team, and started the process of becoming my team. After the World Series was over, I started saving money, and between that and what I was given for Christmas I went out and bought this coat. (Note: here, I put on the coat that I'm wearing in the above picture with me and Kiddo) I’ve had this coat since January of 1987—and wore it right up until Christmas of 2004 when my wife had finally had enough of her husband going around in this coat from the 80’s and got me a more current Red Sox jacket.

SO…what does this all have to do with Confirmation, and what does this all have to do with you?

I suppose what I’m getting at is this question: when does Christianity move from "our" faith to "my" faith? I’m guessing most of you probably grew up in the Church. You went to services, went to Sunday school, Vacation Bible School, you may have gone to church camp, and now here you are, about to be confirmed. This weekend, when you’re confirmed, you will be publicly saying, “my family’s faith is now becoming my own. The faith that I was raised in is becoming the faith that I believe, not because anyone else told me to, but because it’s what I believe.”

Notice a few things here. I didn’t say that you now have all the answers. I didn’t say that there aren’t things that you question, or are unsure about. In fact, I’d even go far as to say that you probably ought to have some questions about what you believe. Confirmation isn’t the end of a journey (and I know right now some of you are thinking, “oh MAN!!! Then what did I do 60,000 sermon notes for?!?!), it’s a milestone along the way.

In many ways, this weekend is really the first step in making your faith your own.

For me, it wasn’t until AFTER I was confirmed that my faith really, truly was tested—as I got older and went through high school and college. Suddenly, people were asking what it was I believed. Suddenly, people were challenging beliefs I had held my whole life. Suddenly, I was questioning what I believed.

No matter where you may be in your life, whether you’re a high school freshman, or a senior, or in college, or a full grown adult—that process of questioning, of change, of doubt, of wondering, is tough. It all seemed so black and white when I was younger! I went to church, learned what I needed to know in Sunday School, and everything was fine. Now THIS guy wants to know when I was saved. That happened when I was baptized, right? He’s asking me why I think it’s okay for babies to be baptized. THIS person is questioning my choice of clothes and music. Can I really be a Christian and listen to Fergie or T.I.? THIS person is challenging what I think about creation, THIS person is telling me that I have to pray a certain way, and THIS person is trying to convince me that Christianity is all just a big waste of time!!!!

You know, in order to really think about those types of questions, in order to really discuss those types of issues, as a part of all of that, your faith slowly, but surely, becomes your own. It’s almost a trial by fire. Your family may have given you a firm foundation of faith. Your presence here is a testimony to that. They may have helped you learn, grow, and become closer in your walk with God. You’ve hopefully picked up some things along the way in Sunday School and confirmation classes. But to be honest with you, it’s really these next few years that’ll be when the rubber really hits the road. These years are when you stop believing because of what your family believes, and start believing because YOU believe. And what you will be doing this weekend isn’t the end of that journey. In a lot of ways, it’s just the beginning.

You, my friends, are at the beginning of an amazing adventure. You’ve been called! Christ has called you through your baptism to dare to be different. To dare to make a difference in the world, to make a difference in the lives of others. When he said “let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and glorify your father in heaven,” Jesus wasn’t saying we should sit back, relax, and let our faith get us a ticket to heaven. He was calling us, challenging us, inspiring us to get out there and do something.

There are plenty of well-meaning folks out there who tell me that they’re glad that I do what I do because the youth are the future of the church, and we need to nurture that future. The thing is, you’re NOT the future of the church. You’re the church RIGHT NOW. That means you do have the power to make a difference, to change what needs to be changed, to be Jesus’ hands and heart for the people around you.

We Lutherans like to joke about resisting change. How many Lutherans does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Twelve. One to screw in the lightbulb, and eleven to say that they liked the old lightbulb better.

We resist change. We love to say things like “we’ve always done it that way.”

But like this poster says, just because we’ve always done it that way doesn’t mean it’s not incredibly stupid.

You’re in a unique position. In the process of making your faith your own, in the process of asking the questions and figuring out what this faith of yours has to do with your life, you have the opportunity to be leaders. To sense where the spirit is leading, to show folks my age and older what transformation is about, to help us reclaim our faith even as you struggle to claim your own.

Where is God leading us? What have we “always done” as people of faith that needs to be done differently? Where is Christ calling YOU to serve, to be a light for others? Those are questions I can ask, but that it’s up to you to answer for yourselves. The answers to those questions are going to look different for each of you.

I’m going to leave you with a challenge tonight. The challenge isn’t to have all the answers. It’s not to make sure you’ve got it all together and to be a perfect person. My challenge to you is this: continue to struggle. Continue to wrestle. Continue to stumble toward faith. Continue to be an active part of a community that is committed to struggling and wrestling and stumbling alongside you.

Continue to ask questions, and if you’re not satisfied with the answers, ask some more questions. Continue the process of making this thing called faith your own faith. Don’t let this weekend be the end of that.

Faith is not a “through street.” The process of forming your faith is never through. It’s never finished. It’s never done. In so many ways, you’ve only just begun. Enjoy the ride, and may God bless each and every one of you.


Sunday, October 28, 2007

Oh Brave New World!!!

My 3 year-old son will wake up tomorrow morning with the Red Sox having won the World Series twice since he was born.


It's weird. There really has been no doubt in my mind since game 5 of the ALCS that Boston was going to win it all, and that confidence has been very disconcerting. I've been trying to visit my old friends pessimism, doubt and dread, attempting to conjure thoughts of curses and collapses and blown leads and the like. But it's all been fake. The closest I could come to that comfortable, familiar feeling of dread was cautious optimism.

I knew Boston was going to win.

I think I know why it feels have expected a Red Sox victory all along: because I imagine this must be what it feels like to be a Yankees fan. (eww.)

Not that I'm complaining, mind you...(if there's any question, just ask Sweetie and she'll tell you I'm downright giddy right now!!!!)

As a lifelong member of Red Sox Nation, I'm proud of my boys. They played with heart, guts, passion, and remembered how to have fun in the process. Way to go guys!!!!

The celebratory Moxie has been consumed, and the can will be properly marked with the date and occasion as soon as I can find our Sharpie.

If I seem subdued, that's really not accurate. More like overwhelmed. Amazed.

Very, very happy. Just treading on some extremely unfamiliar ground.

WOO HOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Sunday's Red Sox Mojo

Courtesy of Jonathan Papelbon and Kevin Youkilis, soon to be coming to you on Dancing With the Red Sox Stars (okay, maybe not...)

Here's hoping Papelbon can do some more dancing tonight...


Saturday, October 27, 2007

Saturday Red Sox Mojo Of The Day

Today's Red Sox Mojo song is none other than Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline, as sung at Fenway in the middle of the eighth inning of every home game (sing along!!! Sweeeeet Caroliiiiiine, BUH BUH BUH, good times never seemed so good, SO GOOD! SO GOOD! SO GOOD!):

Tonight, the Sox take on the Rockies (and their humidor) in Denver, without the help of one of my favorite players, Kevin Youkilis, also known as Yukon Cornelius:

Kevin Youkilis..............................................................and Yukon Cornelius.

Am I the only one who sees the resemblance?

I suppose the plus side to all of this is when you're in a spot where you can bench a guy who's been hitting .500 in the postseason and honestly say doing that gives you the best opportunity to win, you've got a good thing going.



Friday, October 26, 2007

Red Sox Mojo Of the Day

Dirty Water by the Standells, a staple at Fenway after Red Sox victories (such as game 2 of the World Series against the Rockies...we're 2-0, baby!!!).

GO SOX!!!!

The lyrics, for those who may be mildly interested in such things:

Dirty Water
by The Standells

I'm gonna tell you a story
I'm gonna tell you about my town
I'm gonna tell you a big bad story, baby
Aww, it's all about my town

Yeah, down by the river
Down by the banks of the river Charles (aw, that's what's happenin' baby)
That's where you'll find me
Along with lovers, muggers, and thieves (aw, but they're cool people)
Well I love that dirty water
Oh, Boston, you're my home (oh, you're the number one place)

Frustrated women (I mean they're frustrated)
Have to be in by twelve o'clock (oh, that's a shame)
But I'm wishin' and a-hopin, oh
That just once those doors weren't locked (I like to save time for my baby to walk around)
Well I love that dirty water
Oh, Boston, you're my home (oh, yeah)
Because I love that dirty water
Oh, oh, Boston, you're my home (oh, yeah)

Well, I love that dirty water (I love it, baby)
I love that dirty water (I love Baw-stun)
I love that dirty water (Have you heard about the Strangler?)
I love that dirty water (I'm the man, I'm the man)
I love that dirty water (Owww!)
I love that dirty water (Come on, come on)


Thursday, October 25, 2007

Go Sox!!! Beat the Rox on Fox!!!

Yes ladies and gents, this year's World Series is being brought to you by Dr. Seuss.

The Sox and Rox on Fox!

Hoppy on Papi!

Okay, maybe that last one was a stretch.

I gotta tell you, I'm downright giddy. My beloved Beantown boys are in the Series for the second time in four years, and they actually went in as favorites. There's a part of me that says "be careful, they're just setting you up for even more heartbreak," but there's another part of me that just keeps chanting "2004...2004...2004..." It's become my mantra. If the Sox could win it all in 2004, then why the heck not now?

And especially after last night's beatdown, the score of which shall not be mentioned for fear of jinxing the whole thing.

SO...for today's Red Sox mojo, I bring you the Dropkick Murphys and their classic ode to Boston baseball, Tessie:

Here's the lyrics, in case all you can understand is the "2-3-4!"


Tessie is the Royal Rooters rally cry
Tessie is the song they always sung
Tessie echoed April through October nights
After serenading Stahl, Dineen and Young
Tessie is a maiden with the sparkling eyes
Tessie is a maiden with the love
She doesn't know the meaning of her sight
She's got a comment full of love
And sometimes when the game is on the line
Tessie always carried them away
Up the road from Third Base to Huntington
The boys will always sing and sway

Two! Three! Four!

Tessie, Nuff Ced McGreevy shouted
We're not here to mess around
Boston, you know we love you madly
Hear the crowd roar to your sound
Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn't live without you
Tessie, you are the only, only, only

The Rooters showed up at the Grounds one day
They found their seats had all been sold
McGreevy led the charge into the park
Stormed the gates and put the game on hold
The Rooters gave the other team a dreadful fright
Boston's tenth man could not be wrong
Up from Third Base to Huntington
They sang another victory song

Two! Three! Four!

Tessie, Nuff Ced McGreevy shouted
We're not here to mess around
Boston, you know we love you madly
Hear the crowd roar to your sound
Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn't live without you
Tessie, you are the only, only, only

The Rooters gave the other team a dreadful fright
Boston's tenth man could not be wrong
Up from Third Base to Huntington
They sang another victory song

Two! Three! Four!

Tessie, Nuff Ced McGreevy shouted
We're not here to mess around
Boston, you know we love you madly
Hear the crowd roar to your sound
Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn't live without you
Boston, you are the only, only, only
Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn't live without you
Red Sox, you are the only, only, only

Go Red Sox,

Tuesday, October 23, 2007


Sunday evening, Sweetie and I went not to a retirement dinner, but a reFIREment dinner for Pastor Roger Sasse, executive director of Nebraska Lutheran Outdoor Ministries. NLOM runs Camp Carol Joy Holling, which is where Sweetie and I met when we were on summer staff together eleven years ago. And for anyone who knows Roger, the term reFIREment is much more appropriate than "retirement." Even though he says he's taking a month to do some in-depth study on the feeding habits of the great northern pike, I don't think he'll ever truly retire. He just has too much fire in him.

The dinner was great--there was a suitable combination of reminiscing and roasting, the highlight of which was the long-time director of buildings and grounds returning an entire toolbelt worth of tools that had fallen off the back of Roger's pickup over the years, then going backstage and wheeling out a gigantic electric generator that Roger apparently at one point had let fall off the back of his truck when he forgot to put up the tailgate.

Oh...and the food. The food. The. Food. Was. Amazing.

I know it sounds weird to hear that about camp food, but ever since NLOM hired an executive chef for their retreat center food preparation, meals at camp (which have always been above average) have become works of culinary art. Savory, tender beef tenderloin strips marinaded and with a cracked pepper glaze. Chipotle roasted shrimp. Au gratin potatoes (the real ones, not the ones out of a big box). Two different vegetable salads. I can't even begin to adequately describe how good the spread was.

And then there were the desserts, which honestly were as good as you'd find at any fine restaurant you'd ever go to.

An all-around wonderful time. We were at a table with old friends, got to catch up with other old friends from camp and from campus ministry, and thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

Kiddo was with us, too. Sweetie and I had told him in the morning that we were going to be going to camp in the evening, and his first question had been, "am I going to get mosquito bites?" We had assured him that no, we were going to be inside. When we got there, we were so proud of how nicely he sat through the hour-long dinner, followed by an hour-long program. He listened, looked around, and intently paged through the books we had brought for him. After the final speaker, the synod bishop closed with a prayer and had everyone stand up and hold hands during the praying. Kiddo prayed right along, holding Sweetie's and my hands. When the prayer was over, he looked at me and asked, "Daddy, is this church?"

Hm. Is this church? Well, not really in the sense in which he was asking the question.

So my initial answer was "no, but it's like church because we prayed and talked about Jesus." As I spoke, though, my words sounded awfully hollow to me. So I interrupted myself.

"Actually," I said, "yes. This IS church. It doesn't look like our church at home, does it? But this is a big church that looks like a camp. And kids and grownups come and sing and pray and play and learn all about how much God loves them."

Kiddo thought about it and said, "that's really cool."

Yep...very cool indeed.

Happy reFIREment, Roger!


Monday, October 22, 2007


Last week was my synod's Theological Conference. As is the case at events like these, just as much value lies in the conversations that take place before, between, and after the formal sessions as with the official presentations themselves...but there's always some good nuggets to be taken away from the keynote speakers.

There's also some sessions that are downright clunkers.

During one such session last week, I decided to pass the time by writing some haiku. Yes, I know.

I'm a nerd.

I started with this one:

I enjoy haiku.
Five and then seven and five
is a fun pattern.

On Monday, before one of the afternoon sessions, the bishop got up to announce that Steve Pederson had just been fired as the University of Nebraska's athletic director.

He was greeted with silence.

He said, "no, really, I'm not making a joke. It happened."

Upon which came a thunder of applause. It was a bit surreal.

To commemorate, I wrote this one:

Steve Pederson led
NU's athletic program
almost to ruin.

The rest came mostly as responses to words or phrases that one of the speakers used that touched a creative nerve. Here's the rest of what I wrote:

Faith is an action,
more than a belief, that drives
me to serve neighbor.

"Take and eat, drink." We
become that which we consume
at the Lord's table.

Do we honor the
parts of the Lord's body that
annoy, stumble, or fall?

Discovering my
God-gifts and using them helps
me serve cheerfully.

The God-sized hole in
my life cries for comforting.
Does the church cry too?

Confirmed in Christ, we
daily remember water
drowning our old selves.

"How is it with your
soul?" he asked, and I shifted
the subject quickly.

The cross, beckoning,
battering, calls us to our
life transformation.


Sunday, October 14, 2007

Go Big Red!

Yesterday, Sweetie and I took Kiddo to his very first Nebraska Cornhuskers football game.

It was a resounding success, despite the 45-14 drubbing the Huskers received at the hands of Oklahoma State (good grief...Okie STATE?!?!?! Ya gotta be kidding me!!!! **sigh**). Yes, that's right, the worst home loss since 1958.

I believe that was during the Eisenhower administration. Top song that year was At The Hop, top selling album was the soundtrack to South Pacific.

I gotta wash that game right out of my hair.

Anyway, it would have been a complete loser of a day had it not been for Kiddo. The boy had been looking forward all week to the day, and there wasn't anything that would have gotten in the way of his good time. We left the house at about 8:40 AM, parked in our usual spot by the County-City building, walked up to the stadium, and met Sweetie's dad on the north side of the stadium. From there, Sweetie and her dad went inside to a brunch on the terrace of the Tom and Nancy Osborne Complex, and Kiddo and I walked down to the Husker Nation Pavillion.

Athletic Director Steve Pedersen has made about a million boneheaded moves in his tenure at Nebraska, but one thing he did do right was the creation of the pavillion. It's a big, family friendly area right next to the stadium that has games for the kids (including those inflatable things for them to jump in), face painting, a big field for just running around, a big screen monitor where you can watch ESPN, and a stage set up where a band plays and the Nebraska Football Network radio broadcast does their pregame show. And best of all, it's free.

So Kiddo got his face painted, and we checked out some of the other stuff going on. Then we walked to the Student Union building (daddy needed cash from the ATM), where we saw 1997 Outland Trophy winner Aaron Taylor was signing autographs at the bookstore. There wasn't a line when we got there, so Kiddo got his hat signed. Aaron asked Kiddo his age, and when he said 3, Aaron did a doubletake, and said "wow." That's right--an Outland trophy winner was impressed with my son's size. He moves around well too--sign him up!

After doing some more sightseeing around campus, including buying a balloon to let off when the Huskers scored, and checking out the HuskerPedia tailgate, we went into the stadium. Kiddo just took everything in--the band, the GIANT videoboard, the crowd--he just had this "deer in the headlights" look. But when the band started "There Is No Place Like Nebraska," Kiddo sang along.

The whole game, he kept cheering and singing "There Is No Place Like Nebraska." He did get a little antsy because he wanted to let his balloon off into the air, but Nebraska didn't score during the entire first half. We finally said he could do it at halftime. He participated in the wave, waved his arms in the air with the student section after we finally DID score, and just in general had a wonderful time. In fact, after the game, he didn't want to leave!

Now, I'm about as big of a Husker fan as there is, and watching the debacle yesterday left the "grown-up fan" in me pretty sick to my stomach. But I had the privilege of watching the game through the eyes of a 3 year-old, and through those eyes, yesterday's game was the best Husker football game I've ever been to.

Go Big Red!

Here's some pictures and video of the day:

Outside East Stadium

Aaron Taylor at the bookstore

Kiddo at the fountains in front of the Union

HuskerPedia tailgate...with North Stadium in the background

Go Huskers!!!

Watching the players come out for the 2nd half

Borrowing Grandpa's binoculars

His idea...he wanted to bring his play corn from
home for the CORNHUSKERS...

Kiddo's quote: "They need to try HARDER!"

Joining in The for the video

"There Is No Place Like Nebraska" for the video


Thursday, October 11, 2007

God's laughing his holy hiney off right now...

A little background to set the ironic stage:

The ELCA right now is in the middle of the process of forming a social statement on human sexuality. As part of that, they've put together a series of Bible studies for congregations to go through and respond to together. The responses from the people of the church will help inform and shape what the statement says.

They just recently came out with a youth version of one of the studies, and I've decided to teach it at my church for the high schoolers. Tonight was a parents' meeting to go over the outline of the course and answer any questions they might have going in.

As part of my conclusion at the end, I acknowledged that while I'm not the parent of a teenager, I AM a parent, and hope to come at things with a parent's sensitivities. I jokingly said, "it should be a few years before Kiddo and I have to have 'the talk.'"
Okay. Jump to about 15 minutes ago.

Kiddo woke up with growing pains in his foot. After some TLC (and a little children's ibuprofen), he was feeling better and started telling me about his evening. He finished by saying, "Mommy's really tired, isn't she? Why is Mommy tired?"

I answered, "because of the baby growing in Mommy's tummy. It makes her a little tired sometimes."

His reply:

"How did the baby get in Mommy's tummy?"

(Hm. So much for not having "the talk" for a while.)
"Well, God put it there. He put it there really really small, and now it's growing, and when it's ready to be born we'll go to the hospital."

Kiddo thought about that for a second. "When Mommy eats, it lets the baby eat, and when Mommy drinks, it lets the baby drink, so that the baby can grow?"

"Yep," I answered.

"Will God put a baby in MY tummy?"

(Oh, the innocence of a 3 year old!) "No, Kiddo, God only puts babies in mommies' tummies."

"Not daddies? Or little boys?"


At this point, I expected him to ask why, but luckily his sleepiness was starting to get the best of him. He decided he was satisfied and laid back down.

And somewhere up in heaven, God laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. I, who had just spent the better part of 45 minutes earlier tonight talking to parents about the importance of they and the church being in conversation with their kids about sex, who had tossed out a throwaway joke about not needing this sort of discussion with my own kid anytime soon, was sweating out an exchange with a 3 year-old.

Holy humor, indeed.


Friday, October 05, 2007

Root Root Root

My aim yesterday was to celebrate the coming of the major league baseball playoffs (and the Red Sox's win in game one) by taking a video of Kiddo singing Take Me Out to the Ballgame.

Well, he showed wisdom beyond his years. Usually, when he gets to the line "for it's root, root root for the home team," he'll sing "Red Sox" instead (as has been carefully taught by his Dear Old Dad). I thought that would be cute, and fun to post.

Except yesterday, the Red Sox weren't playing.

But Kiddo knew the Yankees were (we had been watching them during supper). And when he he got to that line in the song, he remembered who they were playing against.

So, for yesterday at least, it was "root, root root for the Indians!"

Because, of course, our two favorite teams are the Red Sox and whoever happens to be playing the Yankees...

Here's the video (other than my having asked him to sing the song, this is completely unrehearsed):