Giddy-up!

I went to a Texas Rangers game on Tuesday night with some friends from work. It made me feel very American, and sporty, which feelings were not tainted by the possibility that I went primarily to watch athletic men run around in tight pants.
I have a theory that people are very similar to robots. Here's why. Whenever that loud-speaker started playing a "clapping sequence" that was familiar to the sheep-minded public, they (read: "we") all clapped along. Have we no minds of our own? Must we regress to the days of high-school pep rallys with a Pavlovian response every time we hear that old pattern (you know the one: clap-clap, clap-clap-clap, clap-clap-clap-clap, clap, clap)?
So, my friend pointed out a particularly gorgeous specimen on the field (is that what it is, a field? Or, do I say, "on the court?" "In the diamond?" I'm not sporty-- I think it's "in the diamond"). Jason Botts. Now, he's a Texas Ranger. And he's just horrible. He's young, but his stats don't look very good, even to me, and I just suggested that he may have been "on the court."
But, athletic talent or no, he looked GOOD. Huge. All the other players looked not unlike tiny babies next to him. For real. So, my friends and I are all drooling, and taking pictures of him. Divine!
We have decided to get tee-shirts printed up to wear to a game that say "Fem-Botts." How fabulous is that? Like a little Jason Botts fan club. He stinks, I mean, he's horrible,so he will have to come meet us. And then I will seduce him.
Last thing, we won! Isn't that the best phase "we won?" And when I say "we won," I mean both the Texas Rangers AND I won. Because I had something to do with it. Totally.
I didn't.