Get it? Because he died? It was topical. I get annoyed if there’s a millimeter of space between cups when I’m playing Beirut, become enraged when opponents get distracted and take too long to throw, and am out for blood when someone decides to play some dirge-like blast from the past on the jukebox like “How’s It Gonna Be?” So when I was subjected to hour upon hour of Billy Jean and Beat It, et al, I had steam coming out of my ears.
I actually did get a little too aggressive about things, and have the bruises to show for it. I felt like I was Steve Sanders in the 90210 episode when he decides to take steroids. Fueled by the rage of having a seedy musician’s death govern the night’s soundtrack, my post-win celebratory elbow bumps were unnecessarily aggressive, and now my entire right arm is swollen and lined with ridiculous purple patches.
Good move, Kris.
After a train wreck road trip to Washington and then Atlanta, the Yanks looked like their sparky selves again last night. Even though they were on the other side of town, they were still back in NY, and outta the south. I know that feeling.
“If that was CC Sabathia with a sore biceps, then the Mets don’t want to see the
big left-hander when he’s healthy.”
- ARod’s first pitch ding in first game back after hip surgery
- Gardner’s batting after he slams fullspeed into the center field wall like a bull attacking a matador’s red curtain thing
- Damon’s batting after it’s discovered his caffeine intake is making his eyes useless entities
CC’s 8K, 0BB, 3 hit, 7 inning mow-down of the Mets last night after pulling a muscle in his last start (plus his delightfully fat RBI)
Of course, there’s one notable exception. It’s like Wang sucked up all the Recuperation is Not Something I’m Interested In juice from the poorly chosen fake Holy Grail. Now the rest of the team is playing like they went to the fairy pond in Zelda and got all their life-hearts instantly replenished.
Jeter was out of the lineup yesterday because of a cough. (On his BIRTHDAY! That’s like my sister’s vision of hell, who believes birthdays to be the ultimate nirvana of everything. I guess boys aren’t as big into birthdays, and maybe he’s getting at an age when he starts getting paranoid about being old so he’d just as soon ignore his bday altogether. But still. Sick on your birthday? Poor Jeter. Unless he was just calling in sick so he could go to Dave and Buster’s or capitalize on every bar that offers free drinks on your big day.
Just got back from seeing the latest Yanks win over the Mutts at Citifield. Got a whole slew of fantastic anecdotal evidence to bolster the burgeoning campaign towards Mutts-patented ridiculousness. Might have to spend all of Sunday on this one. To be cont…