Babies and Drunks
God takes care of babies and drunks. Don’t buy it? Well, flash back 20-plus years to a moment that validated that belief for me.
After covering a Saturday afternoon Devil Rays game at Yankee Stadium, I went to Greenwich Village with reporter friends. When we returned to the Grand Hyatt around 3 a.m., we encountered one of the team's relief pitchers in the elevator. Like us, he had been over served.
Less than 10 hours later, this reliever, whose name shall remain anonymous, got summoned from the bullpen. Two outs, bases loaded, and every fan at Yankee Stadium screamed for blood. No doubt his head throbbed. Perhaps a touch of nausea, too. I felt the same way, only I didn't have to face Paul O'Neill.
The reliever delivered his first pitch. O’Neill swung and blistered one. The ball went right into the second baseman’s glove for the third out. The reliever was finished for the day. Nothing to it. You could almost see the angel wings.
Ever wonder what your walk-up/entrance music would be if you were a major leaguer? I always liked Jonathan Papelbon's. "I'm Shipping Up To Boston" by Dropkick Murphys blared throughout Fenway Park whenever the Red Sox closer entered a game. The raucous Boston crowd went nuts. And Papelbon normally prevailed.
After having no televised sports during the first part of the pandemic, sports fans are now on the receiving end of an expanded assortment to choose from. Thus, it's vital to consider who will be operating the remote control when you visit a friend's house. Does the operator have the capabilities to stray from the main channel, watch a couple of plays on another channel, then return to the main action without missing a play? The great ones can perform this task flawlessly. You can miss a lot of action if the control falls into the wrong hands. Should operating a TV control require a license?
Lobster really is just a fancy way to eat butter, isn’t it?