THIS is how I want to think about my team during the All-Star break: just a bunch of goofy S.O.B.'s who are getting paid a king's ransom to play a kid's game.
Shoot, this could be me, Dayton Betts, Brad Webb, Billy Roberts, Ronnie Wylie, Mike Rose, and Perry Robertson 30 years ago: whooping it up over some goofball letting his pants fall down around his ankles.
Instead, it's Opening Day, 2007 and someone is cracking the rest of the team up: even JD has a smile on his face. Someone alert the media.
I've had this picture as the screen saver on my computer for about 2 months now, and it just hit me why: it reminds me of my childhood, when life was a whole lot simpler.
Maybe that's why I love sports, baseball in particular, so much: at it's very best, it's played by grown men who realize how fortunate they are to play a game for a living, and who enjoy every last second of it.
You can have the Yankees, the Mets, and the Cardinals: they play like the fate of the free world depends on them winning a game. I'll take the goofball lunatics, who play to win, yes, but play for the joy of the game as well.
HR Derby, All-Star game, 3 day break: it's all good. Just give me Wake vs. Doc on Thursday, throw in Julian doing something off the wall like interviewing his glove, and I'll be a happy man.
The Man is alive and well: he resides at Yankee Stadium and showed up at the HR derby tonight wearing a coat and tie in the form of Slappy: the inner rebel in us all plays in the cathedral known as Fenway Park and was last seen horsing around with Ichiro and sporting some mean looking dreads.
Who would YOU rather root for?
Thoughts While Trying to Ignore the Blow Out
2 days ago