It Happens Every Spring
Again, I come to you, my LiveJournal friends, in need of some assistance. Pretty soon, Twins baseball will be coming around the corner and I might not be ready for it.
Every year, I like having a "favorite player." I have a special attachment to the player that I choose. The problem is, however, I hate the player bandwagons...even ones in which I am the driver.
For instance,
about 5-6 years back we had a middle relief pitcher who I absolutely fell in love with. We called him "Senior Smoke" because of his Latin American heritage (and of course in honor of Juan Berenger) and his blazing speed. Unfortunately, he became a starter, dominated the league, and started winning Cy Young Awards. Now everyone likes him.
I needed a new Twin. I found a tall lumbering curly haired kid that I especially loved. He had a rough go of it in the beginning. He couldn't hit a curve ball to save his maple tree. He struggled mightily for two-three years. I didn't give up on him. I still had high hopes. I gave him two wonderful nicknames, "Big Thunder" and the "Defensive Wizard." Then what's he do? He has a career year, hitting home runs everywhere (some of which have yet to land), having a great batting average all while actually playing a very decent first base. To top it off...he wins the American League Most Valuable Player. Now everyone likes him.
What am I to do? Who needs a driver on the Awesome Bandwagon Express?
Every year, I like having a "favorite player." I have a special attachment to the player that I choose. The problem is, however, I hate the player bandwagons...even ones in which I am the driver.
For instance,
about 5-6 years back we had a middle relief pitcher who I absolutely fell in love with. We called him "Senior Smoke" because of his Latin American heritage (and of course in honor of Juan Berenger) and his blazing speed. Unfortunately, he became a starter, dominated the league, and started winning Cy Young Awards. Now everyone likes him.
I needed a new Twin. I found a tall lumbering curly haired kid that I especially loved. He had a rough go of it in the beginning. He couldn't hit a curve ball to save his maple tree. He struggled mightily for two-three years. I didn't give up on him. I still had high hopes. I gave him two wonderful nicknames, "Big Thunder" and the "Defensive Wizard." Then what's he do? He has a career year, hitting home runs everywhere (some of which have yet to land), having a great batting average all while actually playing a very decent first base. To top it off...he wins the American League Most Valuable Player. Now everyone likes him.
What am I to do? Who needs a driver on the Awesome Bandwagon Express?