Snarkastic

tears of a clown

Last year I made an executive decision to adopt a baseball team, with the help of darlings Texy and JHC. I had only a couple stipulations: that the team play in a major market, so I could watch whenever I wanted, and that the team be comprised from top to bottom of complete maniacs. They steered me to the Red Sox straightaway, and it's the perfect fit. Can't stand to watch games on television? Me either, but try Boston--they're apparently pretty good at it, and there's always some sideshow in the periphery to hold your attention. And sure enough, here was the maniac-est of all:

And now he's off to the Dodgers, which, while placing him a few short miles away, will entail setting foot in the hellmouth of Chavez Ravine in order to lay eyes on him. I don't care enough about baseball as a sport to give a fig about team chemistry or faked injuries or impolite contract negotiations--the guy is good television, and it ought to be patently obvious how much that counts for around here. He won't be on the same screen as Ortiz and Papelbon and the rest of that merry band of Boston rogues I've come to feel strange affection for, and in my infinitesimal baseball sphere that's nothing short of a body blow.

Bye, you big lug. You're about to be 3000 miles closer, but I miss you already.

Posted by Nastinchka at July 31, 2008 02:31 PM