the good and the bad showed up together today
this made my fucking week. i checked in at espn.com kinda idly while my boss was laying out the guidelines for what we'd have to accomplish this weekend, and probably i wasn't supposed to be sitting there with a gigantic grin on my face, but i couldn't help it.
macha! white-haired and bespectled, wearing the high socks, allowed by beane to run the team in a way that art howe never was, this is the kind of stability we need. he did a commercial that aired all season whenever there was a fireworks night coming up, where at the end he asks someone off camera, "are we rolling with this?" and then does this unbelievably hilarious squint-eyed nodding face that never ever fails to crack me up, and now my brother and i do it all the time.
this broke my heart. the best thing i ever wrote about baseball was about robb nen, his chunk of a goatee, his toe-tap and that slider that almost hurt to watch. 2002 is some sort of apex for me, the worst pain the game ever caused me, the greatest it ever made me feel. see, it's all about balance.
there's this kid and he drives me up the wall, this foul-mouthed ten year old who can't sit still and runs himself into every wall available, but he comes in ten minutes early to hang around while i get stuff ready, talking about shooty babbitt and dave henderson and huston street, and i'm willing to forgive him pretty much everything.
macha! white-haired and bespectled, wearing the high socks, allowed by beane to run the team in a way that art howe never was, this is the kind of stability we need. he did a commercial that aired all season whenever there was a fireworks night coming up, where at the end he asks someone off camera, "are we rolling with this?" and then does this unbelievably hilarious squint-eyed nodding face that never ever fails to crack me up, and now my brother and i do it all the time.
this broke my heart. the best thing i ever wrote about baseball was about robb nen, his chunk of a goatee, his toe-tap and that slider that almost hurt to watch. 2002 is some sort of apex for me, the worst pain the game ever caused me, the greatest it ever made me feel. see, it's all about balance.
there's this kid and he drives me up the wall, this foul-mouthed ten year old who can't sit still and runs himself into every wall available, but he comes in ten minutes early to hang around while i get stuff ready, talking about shooty babbitt and dave henderson and huston street, and i'm willing to forgive him pretty much everything.