The day I got married to the love of my life, a special day in which we committed to spending the rest of our lives together, surrounded by family and friends. A special day that is documented with a far too expensive photographer so that in 50 years we can look back and remember a time when we didn't just want each other to stay on their side of the bed or to remember to start the dishwasher (or whatever we're using then) before falling asleep on the couch to Wheel of Fortune (which will still be there in 50 years, I have no doubts.)
So there we are on that hot August day, my new bride and I, standing in front of our loved ones during our wedding and while another friend is singing a song that I may or may not have forgotten, I look my wife in the eyes and with all the sincerity I have, I say to her "I wonder how Pujols is doing today?"
|I think he may turn out |
to be an ok player.
But at the time of my wedding, I didn't know I was doomed to failure as a fantasy baseball owner with Pujols on my team. I still had hopes and dreams and now I had someone who was contractually obligated to put up with those hopes and dreams.
So last night, after Pujols hit his 500th home run, I looked at my wife and told her about it. She looked as though she didn't care, though I attribute that to the fact she wasn't feeling well. Deep down I know Pujols holds a special place in her heart, if only because every time she hears his name she thinks "I could have said no. I didn't have to marry this guy and hear about baseball all the time."