I Dance With the Stars

Or whatever.

I really have nothing left to say about this. All my memories of the events of Saturday night have been completely erased. I just watched this seconds ago, and I don't even remember what I just saw. Except I believe I wore a Mothering Hut shirt onto the baseball diamond. Wow.

Actually, I do have some slight memory of this long speech I gave to Barb, one of my instructors, about how this dancing thing was quite the metaphor for life, and how some people are gifted with naturally fluid movements and thus bound joyfully through life with their soaringly optimistic personalities, looking as weightless as Nick Young on a moonbounce, and how others instead move with the grace of Dmitri Young on a treadmill, cruising through life with all the levity of a broken-down minivan traversing Benning Road, and that whether you can dance is probably in some ways a fine measure of all these other issues of lightness and weight, but maybe I'm just imagining all that.

And try not to watch the dancing portions of what follows on an empty stomach.

By Dan Steinberg | July 25, 2007; 11:29 AM ET | Category: Minor League Baseball
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That second paragraph belongs in the Smithsonian

Posted by: Unsilent Majority | July 25, 2007 03:38 PM

Wow... at least the first pitch wasn't bad.

Posted by: Jon | July 25, 2007 04:35 PM

Awesome job.
Yay you!

And you didn't wuss out like a lot of people would have

Posted by: Grooven | July 25, 2007 11:44 PM

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