Evil Empire

I can't muster up the enthusiasm for a big baseball post, just like I can't muster the enthusiasm for the game anymore. There was a time when it meant a lot to me. His integrity has been held up as a beacon to ad nauseum, but I will say if anything untoward came out about Cal Ripken I'd probably still be heartbroken. I mean besides Kevin Costner fucking his wife.

Like I said, there was a time when it mattered, and when it did it was all about Birdland, Brady Anderson and Ralphael Palmiero and Roberto Alomar Jr. (I would imagine Little League staring down of umpires went up a lot in this area thanks to him). Later, when I started spending more time up in New york and appreciating the game with my uncle and cousins, it was all about the Mets. I came on board just in time for the Subway series in 2000, and I've more or less stuck with them since. Mike Piazza, New york Catcher.

I've been wrestling all week with a crisis of conscience, that being the inevitability of another yanks world series and how much I can enjoy that. And the truth is, I really can't. I want to like this stern, cleancut group of guys, but except for CC there's never been such a clear indication of how the organization just bleeds the personality from everyone. High & Tight.

So go blah, go Phillies.

P.S. after the fact. Eh, I still can't really care. My mother says they look like baby hippos celebrating, which is why she needs to be on PTI. I called my dad and asked if he was a yankees fan growing up and he said he went to a doubleheader in 1959 that lasted 10 hours and never recovered. He only pretended to ever care about baseball for my sake. Thanks Dad.

He talks about letting me stay up late to watch Cal beat Lou Gehrig's record, which I don't really remember. I do remember around that time my babysitter let me stay up until 12 to watch FORREST GUMP win Best Picture. It was in many ways a simpler time.