ἀνδρίζομαι, 5

My wife and I recently enjoyed a baseball game at Kaufmann Stadium in Kansas City.  As expected, pregame activities featured The National Anthem.  Everyone stood.  Black, white, brown, tanned, sunburned, fair-skinned, wrinkled, green-haired, nosed-pierced, wigged, bald, bearded, primped, veterans, frail, bulked, CEOs, union members, independent contractors, college students, sober, already-not-so-sober, Hispanic, Asian, Yankees fans, Royals fans, old, young, the guy with a prosthetic leg…  We all stood.  I saw not one person seated.

My attention was drawn to a kid about 9 years old – blond, fair-skinned, having taken off his baseball glove and cap and placing his right hand over his heart during the entire anthem, then giving a Whoop! when it was over.  Mom and dad did not tell him to do so, nor did the KC Chief’s player sitting in front of him, with whom he had the chance to talk by the end of the game.  A little white boy talking to a big black man?  In America?  Who would have thought?  But I digress.

He’s a more mature American than you, Colin Kaepernick, quarterback of the mis-fortunate San Francisco 49ers.  Standing during The National Anthem has nothing to do with politics or politicians or America hating people of color as you ignorantly claim, nor religion or any other personal view or vendetta you wish to hold.  It has to do with America, the greatest country on the face of the earth, and the freedoms we enjoy as Americans, which include simple past-times like going to the ballpark and bumping friendly elbows and knuckles with all the aforementioned grateful people, fans one and all of America.

By rebelliously not standing during The National Anthem, you, Kaepernick, model for every boy and impressionable man how to behave like an ungrateful bonehead (is that a skullcap you’re wearing?) who has no idea of truth, patriotism, or leadership.  But then again, when it comes to those things, maybe you are too weak-kneed to stand.

That skinny 9 year old blonde-headed, white boy at the Royals game?  His favorite player is Salvador Perez.  He was wearing his jersey, rooting for his hero, and hoping to get his autograph.  A white boy idolizing a Venezuelan?  How dare him, that racist kid!

He’s a far better man than you Copernicus, Cappuccino, Pumpernickel, or whoever you are.  See, I’ve already forgotten all about you.

But I remember the kid.

ἀνδρίζομαι

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