As my family gathers around my TV to watch the Astros on their unexpected pursuit of the post-season, I have to chuckle about how my sister and I definitely share my father’s genes. My dad, those of you who know him, is a natural storyteller. And, since he’s a pure-bred Texan, a natural cusser. So, watching baseball with my family is probably a lot like visiting a sailor bar on Friday night. 
Me, who curses loudly about umpires and ragarms (relief pitchers, for the uninitiated). My sister, who complains of high blood pressure because of the stress of the role of spectator. My mom, who rants and raves to no one in particular, just to make sure she can rant and rave. And my dad, who must have been on the minds of the Star Trek IV writers when Spock notes that Kirk was using “colorful metaphors.” I love my dad for his dad-isms.
The latest gem of a dad-ism is complaining about an under-par pitcher: “He’s not pitchin’. Looks like a monkey throwin’ coconuts!” Daddy. Always good for a laugh. 
If you guys can swear, I can rant & rave…and sometimes I even make sense!!