Thursday, September 01, 2005
There are some things that are absolutely hilarious across all cultures, to people from all walks of life, and one of them is watching people who really cannot run at all try to hustle.
The Red Sox have been good to us in this respect, because we've gotten to see Tim Wakefield rounding the bases with flaily hands and an entirely bizarre, inefficient gait; we've gotten to see Big Papi huffing and puffing while trying to stretch one base into two, hurling himself forward and sliding in on his ass or his stomach almost exactly like a jumbo jet; and tonight we got to see Doug Mirabelli, already pumped up in his strange Dougie way about his homerun earlier in the game, stealing a base.
He was 2/3rds of the way to second before Colome even realized what was going on. I don't blame him. You'd no more expect Cecil Fielder in his later years to take off from first base. Dougie motoring forces you to picture a small windup toy, with a perfectly cube-shaped body and little tiny stick legs jittering out the bottom, all stiff and awkward, all making a wheezy little ticking sound while it winds down. Perhaps it's a windup Spongebob Squarepants.
In any event, it is not fast. But it is fucking hilarious.
Also, rock on, Kevin Millar's bleached hair. I'm still waiting from him to discover colored hair dye. Barry Zito had blue streaks, there's no way Millar can be one-upped in coiffure-weirditude. But if simple bleach is enough to get his bat going, then by all means, bleach it into oblivion. Bleach it whiter than Bronson Arroyo. If that's possible.
I'm signing off for the rest of Thursday and probably most of Friday, since it That Time of the Year again. Yes, it is time for the Great (and by Great I Mean Terrible) U of M Move-in of 2005. WOE and ANGST and HORROR. I love Michigan, and I love being there, but I absolutely hate move-in and move-out. So, yeah, 12 hour drive today, madness of move-in Friday. Wish me luck, kids, I shall have need of it.
1:15 AM
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