Ms. BoxJam: You look younger in a baseball cap.

[[They begin walking.]]

Ms. BoxJam: I don't get why you like baseball so much.

[[They get a ride on a public giant bird.]]

Ms. BoxJam: I would *get* football. Plenty of action; lots of excitement.

[[They walk toward a stadium.]]

Ms. BoxJam: Football catches you off-guard; baseball only has subtle changes game to game.

[[BoxJam gives tickets to the guy at the turnstile.]]

Ms. BoxJam: And then there's the de rigeur cap, and undying loyalty. If your team hasn't won anything in fifty years, too bad. It's still your team.

[[BoxJam orders two of something from the "BEER (n' DOGS)" stand.]]

Ms. BoxJam: And the number of games! To follow a team, you're talking 162 games every year! What a commitment that requires!

[[They sit down in the stadium, carrying drinks.]]

Ms. BoxJam: Plus, what's outside any football game? A party! Games are surrounded by carefree fun!

[[BoxJam finally looks at Ms. BoxJam.]]

BoxJam: In other words, football is a no-strings-attached girlfriend. Baseball is a wife.

[[Silence.]]

[[Ms. BoxJam rests her head on BoxJam's shoulder.]]

Ms. BoxJam (thinking): Score one for BoxJam...

BoxJam (thinking): Score one for BoxJam...