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Ezzie, Ezzie-I feel your pain, and my thoughts are with you.Guess Who:)
Feh, I say. Feh on laughter. There is no joy in Mudville as mighty Travis has apparently forgotten that the object of the game of baseball is to HIT-THE-BALL, not to give the homeplate umpire a fan dance.There is no laughter, nor does the sun truly shine. Not on the day following the number 9 hitter in the line-up swinging at the first pitch w/ runners at 1st and 3rd and one out. Hey, here's a crazy, wacky, little league idea...maybe take a pitch (or two, if you want to get really nuts) and let one of your faster teammates steal second base which would, y'know, PREVENT THE DOUBLE PLAY THE WHOLE STADIUM KNEW YOU WERE GONNA HIT INTO. What are they gonna do, throw through and let Methuselah score(?), let them make a decision for once.No, no laughter today. Although I will admit to sardonic grin when I realized that we had manged to leave our most accomplished clutch hitter on the bench (Trot Nixon should have just grabbed that bat out of Hafner's hand, swung it upside his head as a practice swing and stepped into the box). I mean you gotta be careful, he's a liability in the field. You wouldn't want to have him mess up and let in run no. 12 or 13 right?The closest thing to laughter I have to day is the left over feelings of pride and respect for Kenny Lofton and Victor Martinez, seemingly the only hitters who actually looked they wanted to go out and win the game. No nerves from those two, and as for fear of the big stage...don't make me laugh.Go Rockies--I reserve the right to switch allegiances if a Red Sox player hits a line drive into the stands and knocks out John Elway.
So, how was *your* weekend?
So what do we call this one? The stop sign?
HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH ....I laugh at your feelings of self loathing and loss.I revel in your sadness and I gloat in your face!!!
Dear Ed, Die. Die, slow.