Twelve thousand miles away. On the other side of the globe. And I don't own a television set. So into school I trekked, on a day I didn't have to work, to watch Game Seven of the American League Playoffs on TV.

I'm not a big baseball fan. Nor am I in any way, shape, or form a sports fan. I'm clueless. Like I said, I don't own a TV - haven't had one in my abode for 20+ years - how could I be a sports fan? But something happens to me in October. I get excited about the World Series. Baseball becomes really cool to me. The magic becomes tangible. I get drawn in. Especially if there are teams I know involved.

The Florida Marlins? Who the hell are they? The Arizona Diamondbacks? Razorbacks? I don't know! These johnny-come-lately teams mean nothing to me. If they weren't around when I was a kid, then I don't care.

But, on the other side of the world I did care. I suddenly cared about The Yankees, despite the fact I hate The Yankees - I'm a Mets Fan. But The Yankees are my sister Kelley's favorite team, and, being 12,000 miles away from my sister, well hell, that was plenty enough reason for me. And the Yankees are New York, and New York is familiar stomping grounds, and it's all home to me. So root I did.

I went into my classroom, sat upon a table, and snapped on the game. Kids were in and out, only a handful caring about baseball or the playoffs. A few stopped to watch. Gabe, one of my kids, sat down and watched with me. He spent some of his childhood in Boston, so he was rooting for them. He was like me, not big up on sports, or perhaps just not up on the sports that were happening back in the States. But when Hideki Matsui showed up on the screen, Gabe sat up and said how he had seen Hideki play for the Giants in Tokyo. That's what you find teaching overseas.

The game went on and on. I ignored the grades I had to enter into the computer, ignored the IASAS games our school was hosting, and watched as inning after inning unfolded. I kept noting the time. We are twelve hours difference from NY, so as I watched, I kept commenting on the time. 11:00, 11:30. Soon it was midnight, but the game went on.

And then I was shouting. Shouting for The Yankees. Shouting for New York. Shouting for baseball, and home, and the fans in the park. And I was shouting for my sister, whom I knew was probably cheering in front of a television somewhere, believing again in her Yankees.

I should have bought it. The price was NT$250, about seven bucks. It was a cookbook entitled "Cuisine to Make You Plump and Fascinating".

This always catches me off guard. When kids with a British/Aussie/Kiwi upbringing talk about math, they refer to it as maths. As in "I've always found maths enjoyable." Isn't that peculiar?

I'm practicing shorter posts.