"Herrera shouldn't have pitched in the eighth." Pardon me while I talk a little Royals baseball. You see, after watching a dozen games, I know something. Never mind the previous sixty-four sports-free years of my existence. "It's H-D-H 7-8-9. Boom. Yost forgot his own formula." I've picked up just enough info to make myself edgy and opinionated. My husband adds, "Yeah, that's why people say fire the manager." So now I know What People Say and I know what People mean when they say it. I'm getting cocky.
A proficient know-it-all needs cockiness. As long as I'm reeling off the tiny bit I know regarding the Royals' relief pitchers and the Giants' I-don't-need-no-stinkin'-relief Bumgarner, I can ignore the fact that the size of what I don't know dwarfs what I do know. Honestly, I don't even know who won the World Series. But you do.
Here's the thing. As I write this, the World Series has already been won. As you read this, you know who won it. You might not even care who won, but you know. Right now, most everybody knows––except for me, because I'm stuck back here in the past, a day before game six. However, my ignorance doesn't bother me a bit. When my time catches up with yours, you can bet I'll look you in the eye and tell you this: "I knew they'd win."
A proficient know-it-all needs cockiness. As long as I'm reeling off the tiny bit I know regarding the Royals' relief pitchers and the Giants' I-don't-need-no-stinkin'-relief Bumgarner, I can ignore the fact that the size of what I don't know dwarfs what I do know. Honestly, I don't even know who won the World Series. But you do.
Here's the thing. As I write this, the World Series has already been won. As you read this, you know who won it. You might not even care who won, but you know. Right now, most everybody knows––except for me, because I'm stuck back here in the past, a day before game six. However, my ignorance doesn't bother me a bit. When my time catches up with yours, you can bet I'll look you in the eye and tell you this: "I knew they'd win."