To prove I have some knowledge, I’m going to write about baseball. If you read this and don’t like baseball (terrorist!) you are definitely a homeland security risk. Anyways its my birthday/yearly reminder Im one day older to dying, and espn classic just helped me realize the baseball gods do love me. All those years of unrequited little league baseball love, the black eyes from missed baseball (read: gold glove worthy) I was the daryl strawberry of little league. Unlimited potential. I mean, I was a batting machine hall of famer, just crushed it. But put me up against live pitching, and I was terrified of getting hit (the irony being I would soon get hit(by people) playing football for 8 years)..Sidenote: you’d think with twinners, one of us would have developed some sort of fastball throwing to the other one. Nope, both have terrible mechanics. Just didn’t have the intangibles (mel kiper!) But this is all for down the road, to a therapist I assume…The reality is with my little league career (or lack there of) and my favorite team is the Chicago Cubs…yeah, you’d feel unloved too. Baseball hasn’t really shown me much love, but today the baseball gods smiled upon me. I got to watch the 2001 World Series Game 7 (widely regarded as the death of the Yankees dynasty), backed up by Barry Bonds 756th home run. And I realized I didn’t immediately know how many home runs Bonds ended with. Now, If you can read, and have proved it by reading previous posts you’d know Im not only insane about my random facts, but Im a sports junkie (literally, withdrawals are the worst) So for me not to know this, was sad. But not surprising (given my college lifestyle) that I cant. Disappointed with myself; (until) I shifted the blame. Its not my fault I don’t know this stat, its society and the people they employs (newspaper writers, keep up) fault. There the ones who made me feel guilty about my obsession (no homo) of the 90s power hitters. I was a huge fan, I fuckin loved gorilla ball. Just meat sticks hitting cock shots way outta the park with little visual effort, with fluidity and gracefulness (it is a word!), yet such raw power..well dammit its impressive. It made me feel like, “these guys are gladiators”; I could never do that. Now a days, the people in and around baseball have done there best to bury the era of statistics I grew up pouring over. I mean Bonds hit 756 and 6 more (762 for you dumbasses) at 43. Yeah it was ridiculous, retirement coulda been 46- fourty fuckin six he coulda still been playing for millions. Still commanding oh 3 million dollars (ex:Jason Giambi) for maybe a .260 with that more times than never but never is damn close, raw flashes of what once was. Why did we not allow Bonds those years; best typified by the movie The Wrestler, we could have seen those three years (ex: David Ortiz) where a former somebody (akin to the heavyweight boxers plight) crumbles in front of your eyes. They think they still have it, they WANT it SO BAD, but there’s no gas left in that tank, and there the only ones who don’t see that were all witnessing the” diminished skills” years (big ups Ken Williams) of otherwise hall of fame careers. And on my birthday I want that. I want to think, “he’s falling apart at 39..sucker” I have to feel young. And if we had allowed Clemens and Bonds to do it until they were 46, fuckin A! I would’ve been set into my 30s of this uplifting tradition. Watching my heroes of yesteryear crumble in front of my eyes and realizing “Im still young look at this old fucker” (yes, I am vain) side note: (which excuses the fact its completely random) I just realized I was watching western Michigan vs Michigan softball…and they say heroin is an addiction…try sports But, sportswriters and there pretensions and soap boxes they preach on to scare the 35 year old soccer moms who trust them cause it occasionally makes them laugh/cry/feel sentimental I’m looking at you, Rick Reilly. The same sportswriters who give the Justice system legitimacy in there voting and presiding over who makes the Baseball hall of fame. Ron Santo not being a hall of famer is all evidence I need to question the credibility of the MLB hall of fame process/baseball sports writers. The idea is if Santo is a hall of famer the 1969 team would have 4 hall of famers.. That’s a shit ton, that’s saying half of your lineup is great. And you never won a pennant. Santos overall impact on the game, at this point, is hall of fame worthy (regardless if he is senile), the bottom line is: the fucker has two fake legs. Let him get elected before he dies, those blissful years (are you seeing a trend? I feel fuckin old!) before they fade completely to black. HE CANT ENJOY IT WHEN HES DEAD.
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