[Editor's note: Tania from Chicky Chicky Baby and I had a bet.  It was simple. If your Little League team lost, you had to write a guest post singing the praises of the other's baseball team.  She's a Red Sox fan - something I've been trying to convince her isn't in her best interests - especially since it's an AL team and baseball was meant to be played with 9 players, not 10.  But I digress.  She lost the bet.  And THIS is what she sent me.  Half the post is defending her poor decision to make the bet in the first place and the second half is... not exactly what I had in mind.  But whatever.  I know it took the Red Sox like a 1,000 years to be good so I won't blame her for jumping on the band wagon now.  Anyway, here's her LOSER post.]

I am not a fan of the Little League World Series. There’s something about watching a gang of boys on the cusp of true adolescence try so hard to emulate their sports heroes and only to give up 10 runs in the fifth inning that chokes me up. Sure there are winners – if there are losers there must be someone who wins – but watching the losing team try valiantly to hold on to any semblance of fabricated maturity when faced with putting one in the Lost column after months, even years, of hard work… Let’s just say when I see a twelve year old boy dissolve into angry tears while trying to hide his shame with his ball cap, it makes the Mama Bear in me come out. I want to squeeze them and bake them cookies. And maybe wipe away the dirt on their faces with a spit covered tissue. Which is not weird AT ALL.

So when Matthew wanted to make a bet that his Chula Vista Park View Little League team would beat the local boys from Peabody, MA, I had to root for the home team despite my feelings.

(Although, honestly Peabody is not so local compared to where I live in the state. But whatever, it’s a small state. Everyone pretty much knows everyone else.)

(Okay not really.)

(But let’s get this straight right now, Peabody is not pronounced Pee-Body. It’s not a cartoon dog. It’s pronounced Pee-Buh-Dee. Yes, I feel better now. Thanks for asking.)

I couldn’t say no. I knew it was a fool’s bet – in Little League and High School baseball it takes a special group of northern kids to be able to compete at the same level as teams who get to play all year round because they have access to better weather conditions – but I wouldn’t give Matthew the satisfaction of backing down. There’s the whole East Coast/West Coast thing to consider. I’ve got a rep to protect. East Coast represent!

The stakes: Loser would have to say something nice about the winner’s Major League team. I’m a Red Sox fan – Naturally. I mean, isn’t everyone? – and he’s a Padres fan. Probably the only one.  American League vs. National League.  Designated hitter vs. those who secretly wish they had a designated hitter.  I mean, purists.  Whatever.

Long story short, I lost. I mean, Peabody lost. Chula Vista and their 6 foot 2 inch, 215 pound 13 year old pitcher trounced on the poor, sweet and innocent boys of Peabody. It was painful. There were tears. Ugly tears. The boys looked pretty upset, too.

So now I have to write something nice about the Padres.

Um.

Wow, something nice about the Padres? Uh…

Oh, I know! I’ve had a Tony Gwynn rookie card since I was 10 years old. He’s practically the patron saint of the Padres. I can’t believe I held onto it for so long considering all the ones I sacrificed to the spokes of my Pink Huffy tires. It’s in mint condition and it’s worth about sixty bucks at this point… But I think I left it behind with my ex husband and I’m not going back to get it any time soon. And if I continue with this line of thought I may say something nasty so that’s probably not the nice thing Matthew was expecting…. Back to the drawing board.

Something nice, something nice… Hmm…

Petco Park seems great. Beautiful, modern and all that.  I’m jealous…. You can probably get sushi while watching a game! Am I right? Much better than cramped seats and boiled hot dogs and almost a hundred years of baseball legends. Who needs history when you have raw fish wrapped in seaweed! And from what I hear you never have to worry about getting a decent seat – there’s lots of empty ones! So there’s that.

Hey, isn’t your mascot the Chicken??

I loved that guy! I used to watch the Baseball Bunch when I was a kid and that darn Chicken always upstaged Johnny Bench. What skill! What charisma! What… What’s that? He’s not the Padres’ mascot? Well what the hell good is he?? Your mascot is a priest? A Friar? The Swinging Friar? Well, nothing says baseball like a man of the cloth, that’s what I always say. I could also say something about how even God Himself wouldn’t be able to help the Padres but as a lapsed Catholic I’m afraid of the inevitable lightning strike. So, moving on.

(Sorry about the “Hell” thing, God. I’m sure the Chicken counts as one of Your blessed creatures. Don’t hurt me.)

I’ve got it! No really, you’re going to love this one. This is the best thing I can think of about the Padres.

Ahem…

On behalf of Major League Baseball, its fans, players, and associates, we would like to thank the Padres for being a glorified farm team as of late. Because of you other teams, real contenders if you will, have picked up some choice players in the past few years and have gone on to winning seasons. Give yourself a hand, Padres! You’re Triple A but with better salaries! And I’m sure Adrian Gonzalez is there to stay… Until someone else offers him a more lucrative contract.

And if that doesn’t make you feel good about yourself, at least you’re not the Mets.