The Slipper Still Fits!!!!

Legendary games only happen so often. In my lifetime, I can remember two. When Duke crushed the hopes and dreams of millions of Kentucky fans (and a certain group of thespians) in '92 and last night, where a rag-tag group of normals defeated the redneck all-stars in a softball game that could have only gotten its due if Gus Johnson was screaming nonsense at the mic. In a game where there are too many heroes to list, the team with sharp orange jerseys screamed victory after Big Perm laced a missile past "Johnny-kick-the-fence" scoring McElfresh easily from second, leading to an on-field celebration consisting of utter confusion and awkwardness. (Many of you may not understand the significance of this victory since you haven't played on our softball team for six years. Or I guess you all will, as the only people who read this are people on the team, but whatever.) Finishing the season 5-3 with a trip to the final four would be unheard of any other year for this band a jackals, but the addition of a few ringers and a bold move putting Pickle-dick on the bump proved to be the deciding factor in this season's run. Any other night this team would have folded under the intense screaming and psychotic theatrics exhibited by the opposition, but as our fearless leaders Raynoch and "How 'Bout Ya!" sat watching, our dreams took flight as for one night Camp Taylor Softball Filed, nay Softball Stadium, was our Kingdom.

Wow. That took me like an hour and a half. This is completely off the topic, but there is a man seeding our backyard that I've never seen before, should I be worried? Anyway, I have never felt two different yet awesome emotions simultaneously as I did last night. I was shocked that we won; moreover, I was so glad that we beat those fucking loudmouth redneck jabroni's (John's word).

Tony LaRussa is a jerk-off. Several years ago I realized this when, as manager of the Cards, he began batting his pitcher in front of his catcher as if he were some sort of revolutionary. First of all, I did that all the time in "Baseball Stars" because I usually powered my pitchers first; and second of all, that's retarded. Anyway, toolbag here struck again a few nights ago when we (the Cubs) were in St. Louis. With less than two outs and Soriano on third, LaRussa pulled his corners in. Understandable. It was fairly early and the Cardinals were losing (as usual). The LaRussa wrinkle was thrown in as the pitch came to The Riot, his middle infielder's came sprinting in. The Riot watched the first pitch, looked around as if to say "what the fuck was that," and stepped out. The next pitch, sure enough, they came sprinting in again, and The Riot, clearly rattled, ripped a single to left. Good work. It was clearly a ploy to distract the batter, and it failed miserably. If you truly want to revolutionize the game butt-munch put Pujols behind the plate and bat him eighth. Then I'll respect you.

Worse than what happened on St. Louis Wednesday is what occurred in Philadelphia. If anyone needed any reason to completely remove the nationals (I accidentally didn't capitalize the 'n' here, but when I came back to change I concluded that the nationals don't deserve it) from Major League Baseball, all you need to see is one play. No not the 10, 000 foot walk-off from Ryan Howard, which was embarassing. But the play that tied the game. With an 0-2 count and two outs, Jimmy Rollins lifted a fly ball towards the gap, and the two assholes in the outfield (I don't have to know their names because they're nationals) collided and dropped the ball. The relay was then botched and Rollins began tearing for home. All was to be saved, though, as the crap shortstop made a good throw to the plate, beating Rollins by a step. Alas! Their awful catcher dropped the ball and Rollins slid in safely. Watch the play. You could only use birth certificates to prove to me that anyone on that field (besided Rollins) was over 11 years old.