Thankful

On Thanksgiving, it is proper to take a moment to ruminate over our many blessings, such as that we're not a turkey, or a Royals fan. Anymore.

My gratitude to others:

I give thanks for the "traditionalists" who claim to hate baseball statistics and then misuse them to justify foolish positions. They make possible the endless arguments that bring joy to the interstitial spaces between pitches, at bats and innings.

I give thanks for the Luddites who refuse to learn anything new about baseball, as if willful ignorance is a life strategy. A weak beam like me positively shimmers in contrast to dull mattes like that.

I give thanks for the innumerate journalists who assume that if analysis is beyond their understanding it can't be valuable. They allow a third-rate amateur blogger to produce more insightful opinions in his spare time than they do vocationally.

I give thanks for the slow learners who aren't prepared to rush into the embrace of new statistics developed just 33 years earlier and tested rigorously since, the kind of examination that exposes the irrelevance of RBIs and pitcher wins. They allow a new breed of open-minded fans to converse at a higher plane than they can fathom.

I give thanks for the robotic seamheads who forget that real humans play the game. They give cover to lunkheads still dog-paddling in the shallow end of the knowledge pool and spur the debates that I so enjoy.

But mostly, I give thanks for being born rich and free in America where I have the luxury to waste time on frivolous pursuits like this with a full stomach and the security that it will all be there tomorrow.