Attacking our Commander in Chief for his administration’s slow recovery from eight long years of poor GOP policy is one thing; attacking him for his pitching mechanics is another and, frankly, I find it to be an undermining, un-American, unnecessary derision of the US American psyche.
I mean, this is not Barry Zito we’re talking about here. This is the President of the United States of America!
Yet it didn’t take long for Chicago Tribune writer Rick Morrissey to launch an offensive on Barack Obama’s ceremonial first pitch from the 2009 All-Star Game, highlighted by his glib crack which stated “he throws like someone who hardly has played sports” and “If I’m North Korea, I attack right now.”
Wow. Hope you got a bunker, Rick. You’re gonna need it.
Seeing President Obama walk out on the field was a special treat for me; and while from my right field vantage point I did notice somewhat of an awkward arc to his ball, I would never say it looked like an nonathletic toss. Verily, Albert Pujols saved him from bouncing one in front of the plate; but believe me, I have seen much, much worse.
Mayor Mallory anyone?
Of course, when it comes to stellar ceremonial first pitches and beyond fantastic form, it would be exceptionally difficult to beat the Japanese:
Take note bottom-dwelling, low-drawing, aesthetically-challenged Major League Baseball clubs: get this gal to throw all of your ceremonial first pitches and watch the magic unfold (or just watch her chest through that low cut pinstriped top).
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
1. Crappy weather
2. Corrupt politicians
3. Crybaby Cub fans
Because I love this fair second city and all the headaches associated with its underground, battled, scar-bearing character, I generally acquiesce and forego my impetus to break bones and punch walls in reaction to the ceaseless bombardment and annoying abundance of those Three C’s.
But on a day like today, when it’s 30-some degrees outside with a steady, sloppy rain pouring down… when our dear Illinois governor, Rod Blagojevich is arrested at his Northside home on federal corruption charges… when the Ron Santo camp is hogging headline space by going through its annual crybaby routine… when all three of these things converge on the same day in one unforgiving onslaught of discomfort, I am left exhausted, irked and very, very thankful that I am anti-gun.
It’s just too much for one man to take.
The weather, yeah. Like an unwanted pregnancy, it happens. We deal with it.
Blagojevich, yeah. I think we all knew he was a crook. I met him at the 95th Street/Dan Ryan Expressway CTA station on election day 2006. He smiled, shook my hand, patted me on the shoulder. Five minutes later, as I was left admiring the indescribable solidity of his hair, I realized my wallet was gone.
But when it comes to the Hall of Fame hopes of one Ron Santo, I have absolutely had enough. Enough!
I mean, when a woman says “no”, she means “no”, stupid. If you ignore that you’re a rapist.
Likewise, when the Hall of Fame, whether it be the BBWAA, the Veterans Committee or the Baseball Gods themselves say “no” for twenty-five years, they mean “NO!!!!!… and stop bugging us.” Because just like the yearly lament of “this is our year”, the we-were-robbed cries for Ron Santo routine is getting extremely old and intensely aggravating.
They don’t see a Hall of Famer, that’s what, Rick. If doing the same thing over and over and over again while expecting different results is insanity then the crybaby Santo camp is absolutely DERANGED!
Get over it.
Ron Santo was a great baseball player. He wasn’t one of the greatest of all time but he was better than average, better than good, better than what Cub fans have turned him into over the last several years: a whiny, sore losing, crybaby. It’s not Ron’s fault. Leave him alone. He’s on your side. Quit making him look like the fat kid in gym class that no one wants on his team.
You have a stronger case with Andre Dawson so go cry about that for a few decades, will ya? By then Blagojevich might be ready to enter a work-release program cleaning up the beaches that will surround the then island of Chicago (it’s a polar ice cap melting thing).
So yeah, go ahead. Hate me. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.