In trying to keep a mix of things in this blog, and not focus on any particular ones, I find that no matter how much I try to diversify, certain subjects keep coming up. Perhaps that's because, those particular issues get so much attention in the news. And, beyond that, there doesn't seem to be a lot else going on that's of any real interest to me.
However, there's one story intriguing enough to me to spend a few minutes typing about regarding something that happened in professional baseball.
To my recollection I saw my first baseball game when I was six or seven years old. It was televised, and I had no real clue as to what was actually going on. But, after that beginning, I learned the game in time, eventually evolving into a fan. As I got older I found that I much preferred to participate than watch, and certainly played a lot, though much more in pick-up games than for any particular teams.
Despite my preference for playing, I became a fan of three different teams. First the New York Yankees, until I was age eleven, then the Giants who left me flat and moved to San Francisco. After that, in time, I gravitated to the Mets.
Despite being a fan, however, and pulling for my favorite team, as much as I watched them play most of the pap, hype and noise spewed out by broadcasters made very little, if any, impression on me. I was much more interested in seeing what players did when they pitched, hit or fielded in the game I was watching, then their histories, preferences in beer or what kind of car they drove.
So, due to my total disinterest in things such as players lifetime statistics, professional records or whatever other trivia there is, I rarely knew very much about any of them except their performance in the particular game I was watching. As a result, with very little exception, I know virtually nothing about most baseball players at all.
Then, a while ago, I'm not sure of the year, players started showing up with hair longer than my wife's and beards, mustaches and tattoos like jailhouse lifers covering their bodies. On top of that free-agency came about and, in my opinion, the player attitude then shifted from "I play for a particular team" to "Where's the money?" That means that in effect, the players themselves don't care who they play for, so why should I. So I turned them off altogether, haven't watched a game in years and don't plan to in the future.
And that brings me to today's story. It seems there's this guy who plays for one of the New York teams who, when leaving the field for the dugout, stepped on the pitcher's mound. Now, I don't know what that means, but apparently it's an age old tradition to respect the pitcher's turf and circumvent the mound when crossing the diamond.
The opposing pitcher got really upset and let his feelings be known that he thought the player's actions were crude, rude and indifferent, to which the player replied something like; forget about it, it's not important, get a life.
And then, a few days later, the pitcher turned around and pitched a perfect game when facing another team. It's only the 19th time its happened in the history of the game.
The reason I'm so interested in all this, even though I know nothing about the teams or players involved, is that I think the game was perfect, too. Except for me it was the perfect squelch. It doesn't get better that this.
Some bozo who thinks he walks on water disses a competitor, inspiring the competitor to go out and excel beyond his wildest dreams (oops, I don't think you should say "wild" about a pitcher, but I'm leaving it in.) And now the two will be tied together in future baseball lore forever, the pitcher because of his incredible accomplishment, achieved only 18 times before, and the jerk who tried to disparage him and came out looking like the major-league-dunce he apparently is. The guy's a total loser and will stay one for the rest of his life.
That's it for today folks.
Adios
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