Huzzahs ...
Well, thank god I've at least got one baseball team to watch for another couple weeks. Noontime of last Saturday feels like a long time ago, and praise jebus for that, because watching South Carolina unload on 5 straight homeruns was one of the most surreal things I've ever seen. I normally scoff at Simmons's cliched description of sports moments that threatened to explode his dome, but this time, I'm going to back off, because I actually started to feel the blood dripping out of my eye sockets and extreme pressure in the frontal lobe, followed by inane mutterings like, "2 outs, ground ball, dear god help me," interspersed with liberal doses of expletives strung together in new and constructive forms.
This Georgia team can be a little nerve wracking, but you just feel like if the starters can keep you in it, the bats will make some noise, and suddenly you've made it to the 6th inning, you're up by 2, and you realize you have nothing to worry about. Feeling confident about a late inning lead is a strange thing in the college game, but with Rip Warren and Josh Fields, it's becoming a lot more normal. I personally prefer Warren since he comes from the left side like I did, throws more strikes than Fields does, and can retire you with two or three different pitches. But I won't lie, there is something intensely satisfying about watching Fields unload to the tune of 97 mph.
What my college career would have looked like, had I been better and, you know, actually had one.
It's a touch of bad luck that Rice made it through, meaning we draw them in the first game while unseeded Miami and Oregon State go at it in the bottom half. But if we can take that first game, that whole side of the bracket busts wide open for us, especially without Texas lurking in the lower half.
And then of course, there's this poor bastard. Not only was he part of the homerun parade, but now he'll be traveling to Omaha on his own dime if he wants to take the games in from the stands. As a man who has knowledge of several similar capers on various and sundry campuses, I do feel for the boy.
As far as the Braves, I think this weekend marked the point where they now become a casual interest for me for the rest of the year instead of destination viewing every night. I'll still take in another 4 or 5 games in person and watch as the occasion calls for, but no longer do I plan evenings at home around keeping an eye on this team. And it pains me in a way because I don't want to be accused of being spoiled by the last 15 years and turning my back on them when it looks like things are ending, but you know what, there's just nothing to watch, there's no spark. I know I'm getting Smoltz on the downhill slope and a Hudson about three notches below what we thought we were getting from Oakland. I still enjoy the young guys like McCann and Francoeur, but I also know I'm going to see Chipper falling apart two or three years before we counted on, LaRoche failing miserably at obvious times, and Andruw (while still producing pretty healthy power numbers) failing to actually carry the team for any length of time. It's just not fun to watch, and I need some time to reconcile myself to that sad fact.
On the upside, Reitsma has now discovered an excuse for his putriscence. I wonder if the numbness in his fingers is in any way related the numbness that overwhelms my entire will to live when I see him coming in from the bullpen.
What else? I won't pretend like I care about soccer more than 1 month every 4 years, so I won't wax poetic on it too much. That being said, I never played soccer. I doubt I know dick about soccer, compared to what I know about say baseball or football. But dear merciful lord gentleman, the game against the Czech Republic yesterday was the worst beating I've seen since Cousin Eddie stuffed a banana down his pants and set the monkey loose. How did the Czech Republic find 10 white stiffs that are apparently speedier than our most elite soccer practitioners? This boggles my mind.
Football previews are starting up, so I can probably start discussing that again now. We are thankfully on the downhill slope, as I gleefully approach my first UGA football season as an actual student there. It'll be nice not having to sneak into the student section for once. Beyond that, there's probably tons of other things going on that bear discussing, but one of the guys on the right is already doing it better than me, so go, read, and be enriched.
Thus endeth the lesson.
This Georgia team can be a little nerve wracking, but you just feel like if the starters can keep you in it, the bats will make some noise, and suddenly you've made it to the 6th inning, you're up by 2, and you realize you have nothing to worry about. Feeling confident about a late inning lead is a strange thing in the college game, but with Rip Warren and Josh Fields, it's becoming a lot more normal. I personally prefer Warren since he comes from the left side like I did, throws more strikes than Fields does, and can retire you with two or three different pitches. But I won't lie, there is something intensely satisfying about watching Fields unload to the tune of 97 mph.
What my college career would have looked like, had I been better and, you know, actually had one.
It's a touch of bad luck that Rice made it through, meaning we draw them in the first game while unseeded Miami and Oregon State go at it in the bottom half. But if we can take that first game, that whole side of the bracket busts wide open for us, especially without Texas lurking in the lower half.
And then of course, there's this poor bastard. Not only was he part of the homerun parade, but now he'll be traveling to Omaha on his own dime if he wants to take the games in from the stands. As a man who has knowledge of several similar capers on various and sundry campuses, I do feel for the boy.
As far as the Braves, I think this weekend marked the point where they now become a casual interest for me for the rest of the year instead of destination viewing every night. I'll still take in another 4 or 5 games in person and watch as the occasion calls for, but no longer do I plan evenings at home around keeping an eye on this team. And it pains me in a way because I don't want to be accused of being spoiled by the last 15 years and turning my back on them when it looks like things are ending, but you know what, there's just nothing to watch, there's no spark. I know I'm getting Smoltz on the downhill slope and a Hudson about three notches below what we thought we were getting from Oakland. I still enjoy the young guys like McCann and Francoeur, but I also know I'm going to see Chipper falling apart two or three years before we counted on, LaRoche failing miserably at obvious times, and Andruw (while still producing pretty healthy power numbers) failing to actually carry the team for any length of time. It's just not fun to watch, and I need some time to reconcile myself to that sad fact.
On the upside, Reitsma has now discovered an excuse for his putriscence. I wonder if the numbness in his fingers is in any way related the numbness that overwhelms my entire will to live when I see him coming in from the bullpen.
What else? I won't pretend like I care about soccer more than 1 month every 4 years, so I won't wax poetic on it too much. That being said, I never played soccer. I doubt I know dick about soccer, compared to what I know about say baseball or football. But dear merciful lord gentleman, the game against the Czech Republic yesterday was the worst beating I've seen since Cousin Eddie stuffed a banana down his pants and set the monkey loose. How did the Czech Republic find 10 white stiffs that are apparently speedier than our most elite soccer practitioners? This boggles my mind.
Football previews are starting up, so I can probably start discussing that again now. We are thankfully on the downhill slope, as I gleefully approach my first UGA football season as an actual student there. It'll be nice not having to sneak into the student section for once. Beyond that, there's probably tons of other things going on that bear discussing, but one of the guys on the right is already doing it better than me, so go, read, and be enriched.
Thus endeth the lesson.
posted by The Drizzle at 11:11 PM
5 Comments:
Braves Bullpen = Bonfire of the Vanities (the movie obviously...what a crock of shit that was)
That's a pretty accurate comparison.
A few weeks ago when someone would ask me about the bullpen, I was apt to break into something akin to Clark W. Griswold's rant about Frank Shirley, i.e.:
" ....I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is. Hallelujah. Holy shit."
Now, I lack the energy for such righteous indignation, and I'm more apt to just sigh deeply and stare at the floor.
Guys used out of the bullpen by the Braves last night:
Stockman
Yates
Paronto
Who the F are those guys?
Hell if I know, these guys have never even been talked about as far as I know. Meanwhile, I'm pretty sure Scottie Thurman was playing left field last night, except he looked a lot less tanned than he used to.
I got to give them credit, when they decided to derail, they did it all the way.
Yeah, that was Thurman in left, Big Nasty behind the plate...and that might've been Dwight Stewart playing 1B.
Alex Dillard, nowhere to be found.
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