I know you guys are both baseball fans so you’re enjoying the drama of
the postseason but isn’t it hard for you to get into it when your team
is no longer in the running? Allen’s team choked and didn’t even make
it and Jeff’s team made it but then choked. I know it’s still baseball
and I know it’s still the playoffs but doesn’t it kind of take
something away when you’re watching as a fan of the game instead of as
a fan of a team in the game?
Just for today, I will put aside my pretentious baseball ego and do what politicians do: answer a question with a series of questions. This is also what mathematicians call “proofing”; it’s what women I’ve dated call “being obtuse” — what I call “playing mind games.”
If your local pub didn’t offer a Maccallen 32 year, would you tell the bartender, “Nah, no Johnnie Walker for me, I’ll just have a soda water”?
After a long night of partying that has left your stomach growling for sustenance, would you not eat Taco Bell because it isn’t “authentic” Mexican cuisine?
If you couldn’t get behind either party’s presidential candidate because they both made promises they didn’t keep would you simply not vote for the lesser of evils?
On second thought, forget that last one.
Just know this: Baseball is baseball is baseball is baseball… and a couple weeks from now, I (and a whole lot of like-minded baseball nerds) are going to be suffering from a supreme lack of entertainment. This will be when I start looping the 1982 and 2006 Commemorative World Series DVDs; when I reread Tim McCarver’s Baseball for Brain Surgeons; when I pop in the VHS tape of Morris v. Smoltz — Game 7 of the 1991 Fall Classic — and salivate over every pitch, even though I already know what’s coming.
Yeah, yeah, yeah… it’s too bad my (our) team(s) isn’t (aren’t) in contention. Boo hoo. But baseball is the religion, the individual teams merely saints. I can live without my saint but not without my religion; and you can bet that those who follow the religion of baseball (thoroughly) are way more wacky than any suicidal jihadist or hypocritical evangelical.
And yes, I do see a therapist about this… from time to time.
Hate me ‘cuz I teeter on the cliff of instability, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
***IMPORTANT PROGRAMING NOTE***
Suggested to us by the always hilarious Jonestein at BABL, Mr. Krause and I will be competing in a World Series Metaphor Competition — a Metaphor-Off… yeah, let’s call it that.
Why? ‘Cuz we can. And we will.
But we need your help!
As you know, Al and I champion ourselves as masters of the meandering
metaphor; and we need your suggestions. What do you want to see
metaphorized? (Yes, that’s a word. I made it up.) It could be
something as simple as an individual player, a team, a rule, a concept,
whatever. We want your ideas. Email us at firstname.lastname@example.org, Twitter us at @RSBS
or kindly comment on a post with your suggestion. After selecting a
trio of your topics, Mr. Krause and I will then post our metaphors
during the World Series and YOU the reader will vote for the winner in
this best of three competition.
Don’t just sit there…. suggest, suggest, suggest!