Well, that was a bit of fun last night. Dope-smoking young bean sprout of a baseball pitcher who wins two Cy Young Awards finally makes it to the post-season for the first time, and pitches a masterpiece shutout with 14 strikeouts. Another young phenom is brought up midseason from the minors (we have nicknamed him Parker Posey), gets two hits, and scores the only Giants run. This isn't torture, this is an unexpected treat, since nobody thought the team would be in the playoffs except for my friend h. brown.
By the way I refuse to call the Atlanta team by their obnoxious name. It conjures up hideous memories of Jane Fonda, newly married to Ted Turner, doing the infamous War Chant and Tomahawk Chop.
I know she's allegedly a liberal icon, but I think as poorly of Jane Fonda as do many Vietnam veterans' groups. The Tomahawk Chop was just the most recent example of her getting all her ideas intra-vaginally. If you want to know her opinions, ask the guy she's screwing.
ReplyDeleteVamanos, Gigantes!
Dear Matty: That is deeply unkind, and it reminds me of something my mother once said about a sister of mine's religious convictions, which seemed to change with each different lover.
ReplyDeleteHi Mike - I only started watching the Giants this year (thanks to my boyfriend who's been a lifetime fan), and was surprised to see myself thrilled at the game that won them a spot in the playoffs. Buster Posey's baby face doesn't hurt either!
ReplyDeleteDear Jolene: Nice to see you are branching out from dance and musical theater. And though I love Parker (Buster) Posey as a player, it's Pat Burrell's face that strikes me as most kissable. Too bad Bruce Bochy took him out too early in the second game.
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