Flatsixes
Virginia
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Bio not provided
I picked a bad decade to give up drinking.
Call me old fashioned, but a guy who's hitting under .200 shouldn't be batting in the 3 position.
Better.
Now repeat after me: "I CAN hit the baseball. I CAN hit the baseball. I CAN hit the baseball."
Holding my tongue clearly hasn't worked, so...
FOR CHRIST"S SAKE HIT THE FUCKING BASEBALL!!!
See if that works.
I've got to admit, I did not see this coming. Such happy surprises, however, are always welcome.
I couldn't watch the game last, and I considered myself lucky when checking the paper this morning.
Then I read this : “Neil Diamond cameltoe.”
I may never recover.
Ten pitches. Very nice.
Watching on ESPN game cast (which blows). Did Drew look as bad at his last at bat as I think he did?
I'm glad that... no, I am relieved that folks are okay.
I'm not 'glad' about anything. In fact, I'm seething.
My oh my. It appears as though the promise of less-expensive beer has not mollified the Faithful.
What was it that Tiger said? "Winning fixes everything?" Well, ok then. Let's fix things.
They lower the price for beer, and the next day Tim McCarver decides to retire from annoying me at the end of the year. I'd say things are looking up.
That was a treat. The sound of baseball I mean. On a crappy dark February day, the sound of baseball is like... I dunno, a promise. You know what I mean? It's like that cool glass of water just waiting there when you're thirsty. Or maybe like that special smile that crosses your lover's face that says "ev'ry little t'ing gonna be alright." It's like... excuse me... (:buries face in battle-scarred 1968 Spalding Carl Yastrzemski "Triple Crown" fielder's glove and sobs softly:).
Sniff. Sorry. Bob Marley always chokes me up.