It’s not dead yet, maybe?
Posted by TFG on 7th July 2008
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER: Hamilton, Bradley, Kinsler & Young
Mr. B. was thrilled
Mr. TFG is tickled pink that someone under the age of 40 cares about baseball, period, much less the idiot GDMFSOB heart-breaking-since-1972* Rangers. You can’t possibly know how happy that makes me.
I want to drive up and see a Mr. B game, but that would be very damn weird, I think, no matter how much this old fart loves watching kids play the game I love so much, the best game ever invented. Too weird by half, here in the aughts. Shame, that, but I’d probably be arrested as a paedophile these days, and I’m sure they don’t appreciate beer in the stands like they ignored it when I learned the game. So, I hope Mr. B keeps the flame going long enough so I can go see my grandsons play. I bet that’ll happen, no matter my cynicism. There’s a good reason we don’t have soccer as our default sport, and that reason is called baseball, my friends. Lotsa stuff going on there that not many get.
* Dang, 36 years. Two faggy little watered-down playoff shows. Worst night of my life was watching the Johnny Oates-led Rangers fall to the stinking Yankees while I sat in a damn Connecticut bar, surrounded by the preening peacock NYY fans. Losing my dad was rough on a different night, sure, but I knew he wasn’t going to be immortal, particularly given his proclivities, so I had no hope for that. I had hope that the stupid Rangers could do some damage, though, against General Motors. Man, I hate the Yankees. And here I’m a Cowboys fan. Some things just work out to screw you over, I guess, but you always want what you cannot have, and I fear that that’s a Rangers World Series for me. Really, I’d be thrilled to know that my grandsons will see that, but you can’t, can you?
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