Who knew?

I really thought I knew my wife. I really did. After seven years of a really blissful marriage, I'd figured that I knew her every nuance. I was wrong. For I was about to discover something devastating, something for which I'm still trying to comprehend.

My wife is hopelessly addicted to baseball. She's become a diehard Anaheim Angels fan.

It started so innocently at first. Sure, over the years, she'd mentioned that as a young and impressionable child, she was the Batgirl and mascot of her local Little League team. And she'd alluded to having gone to Dodgers and Angels games over the years with her dad. But I figured she did that to be a good daughter. Surely it was something she had outgrown years ago.

Then, last fall, the Angels made it to the playoffs. She showed no visible reaction. When the Angels creamed the Yankees, she commented on it. We all did. Still, I noticed no real change in her. It wasn't until game 5 of the ALCS against the Twins that we actually started watching the games, and I recall saying, "honey, let's watch the game." And of course, the Angels won. By the time the World Series came around, we, along with everyone else in southern California, were watching the action. It was the local team, after all. But she, well, loved it. I mean really enjoyed it. By game seven, which was a total nail-biter, she was all-consumed.

But her baseball addiction didn't become obvious until this season. It was when I came home late from work one night that I knew there was a problem. There she was, totally glued to the TV. It was the Angels, after all. And now? Every night the Angels are on TV, we're there. And when they're not, or if the game is on while she's in the office, my wife tracks the progress of every game on the 'net. I mean, baseball has become her life.

But don't worry. Her newfound addiction has hardly driven a wedge between us. Truth be told, I share her addiction. Our house is littered with Angels memorabilia, a Rally Monkey (a must for any hardcore Angels fan), and anything else that will bring the team good luck.

And to think it all started so very....how do I say it? Innocently. Yeah, that's it. I mean, who knew it would come to this? There's only one thing to do. Wish 'em on. Say incantations over our Rally Monkey, take our Angels baseball hats off when and wave 'em when we need a key hit, and keep praying Brendan Donnelley keeps fanning the other guys.

And to think I used to believe baseball wasn't cool. What was I thinking?