The other day my good friend and colleague, Jeffery, publicly mocked me for not being tuned in to Anibal Sanchez’s at-the-time no-no. In his screed, Jeff notes how he sent me text, a text that compelled me to call him and find out what was going on. However, when you read a little more closely, you realize that this all happened on Saturday.
Now, I’m sure I don’t need to point this out to any of our RSBS readers but this past Saturday also happened to be a day chock-full of various other sporting events including some important early-season college football games. Being the sports enthusiast that I am and due to the Tigers’ increasingly erratic play, I made the decision to focus on college football.
What happened next is the very definition of what you are not supposed to do when a no-hitter is in the offing. Jeff texted me a vague, leading question which demanded a response. As I called and Jeff picked up the phone, Sanchez let loose the the pitch that would end the no-hit bid. Now, I ask you, members of the jury, who bears the blame for this unfortunate series of events? Is it Allen, the attentive friend, responding to his buddy’s inarticulate and unclear question? Or is it Jeff, the person who set these events in motion and instigated the fateful phone call?
The answer is clear my friends. And if Johnny Cochran were here with us today, this would be the point where we’d hear him say: “Texting is key, Jeff’s guilty.”
Superstition is not something I find myself drawn to ordinarily; however, certain recent circumstances have led me to question even my own staunch stance in reality. On Saturday, while witnessing Anibal Sanchez’s no-hit bid against the lowly Indians, I thought to myself, surely my obstinate and beleaguered colleague, Mr. Krause, is enjoying this little bit of history-in-the-making.
To be sure, I sent him a simple (non-superstitious text) that read: You know what’s happening right now, don’t you?
Unfortunately, as the baseball gods shook their invisible heads in shame, Mr. Krause responded with a phone call, to ask me what I was talking about, and as soon as I answered the phone, Carlos Santana drove a deep drive over Austin Jackson’s head and the drama was dead.
Good job, Mr. Krause. Seems to be quite the formula for the Tigers this season: flashes of brilliance followed by complete disappointment. How long will the White Sox stay ahead of the Tigers? Until the end of the season. That’s how I see it.
As for me and my Cardinal fanatic family, sure we’ve been victimized by the same sort of blasé play lately; but never fear… our SAVIOR will be HERE… FRIDAY.
Hate me ‘cuz it’s Monday, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.