Monday, February 06, 2006

DISH OF THE DAY



When I first started watching Baseball, I didn't have any deep-seeded passions one way or the other about it. Having just moved to New York, I became a de facto Yankee fan. The, over the Summer one day, you beaned Mike Piazza rather than face him like a man, and acted smug about it. Fine, I tought. screw the Yankees, I'll just cheer for the Mets. They're a New York team as well, just, you know, not as good. But you weren't done yet.

That October you faced the Mets in the Subway Series. Now, you had already lost me forever. You personally. Due to your sucking as a human being. As anyone can guess, after watching the series, I couldn't really cheer for the Mets either. I mean, I could in theory, but it's like going to an execution and clapping if it takes two tries. It's just futile, you know? But anyway, in game 1, I believe, you had what must of been your crowning moment in a career marked with exemplory cocksuckery.

The Wind-Up - you're facing Piazza again. Bastard just won't go down.

The Pitch - a fastball at around a hundred mph. Not bad for a guy your age.

The Hit - Piazza swings out a skittish ground that cracks his bat in half, with the fat part skimming over to the mound. Piazza runs for first.

The Play - a down-but-not-defeated you reaches down instinctively, grabbing not the ball, but the fat part of the bat, and proceed to THROW IT AT THE RUNNER. No matter that you couldn't do that even if you'd gotten the ball. You decided, for that moment, to turn baseball into pro wrestling, because you're a little child. I've heard people try to argue that you're just passionate about the game, and that's all you're tantrum proved. I'd say thatO.J. was passionate about Nicole Brown, but that's probably a bad analogy.

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