Sep 28, 2004 01:10
So I wouldn't be suprised if my suitemate thinks that I'm in love with some boy named Bobby -- she came into the room today and thought I was watching porn for a moment because I was staring at the computer screen with this total and utter fixity. Even now, I can see her going down the class lists now figuring whether Bobby might be a short name for Robert, but no, it's not some boy at school that I'm spend my nights sitting at the computer, begging to come online or something.
No, man. He's out in Oakland, and the boy went 0 for 4 tonight, 1 for 3 the night before, and 0 for 5 the night before that. The BA is down to under .250, and walks ain't comin' too much either, but oh, Bobby. Thank you for that sac fly tonight, and keep it up, for the love of God, because during that last AB, I was muttering your name so much that people are going to start thinking that Bobby is my pet name for Jesus or something.
***
To also continue the love affair with Oakland: Oakland has the best PA workers ever. Today, in the bottom of the first inning, with two outs, they started playing Kurupt's "Who Ride Wit' Us." Hatteberg was on-deck, so I'm pretty sure it wasn't AB music, and man. I know that I'm just a sucker for East Coast flow over West Coast beats, but really, what other stadium crew has such impeccable taste in music?