As we enter the beginning of the most exciting time of year (baseball playoffs and football season and an election, oh my!), I think it’s important that we keep in perspective that which brings us the most joy. Sure, hosting a Guinness keg party while dressed in my Yadier Molina jersey flanked by the Shannon twins is pretty much the happiest day of my life (that hasn’t happened yet but might), I still know that even if all that other stuff falls through, I will always have baseball.
And sometimes, within the game of baseball, we can find something much simpler that pushes the happy button. I know a lot of folks have been wrapped up in the admirable and impressive play of Mike Trout. People are just as infatuated with his grace and dominance as I
was am infatuated with Stephen Strasburg and all things Strasmas. It’s the little injections of youthful awesomesauce that often remind us why we love baseball so much. It is a kid’s game after all.
But sometimes waiting for the next big thing isn’t necessary. I have found that out this year by following Coco Crisp very closely. My history with Crisp has been one of hilarity, peppered with some dazzle. And while his offensive numbers may not hypnotize scouts, enough can never be said about how he plays the game.
He plays hard. He plays to win. He’s in on every pitch and he goes balls-to-the-wall. In fact, I have gotten to the point where I’m watching replays of his relay throws and conducting frame-by-frame analysis on his routes to fly balls.
If I could get to Oakland, I’d rather watch Crisp long-toss than Cesepedes take BP.
Okay, so maybe I’m lyin’ a little bit in that last sentence, but one thing is for certain: Coco Crisp’s defensive play is worth focusing on and if you focus long enough, you’re probably going to see something that puts a smile on your face. Maybe even an afro.
I don’t know if what I’m about to confess will peg me as a complete weirdo, but I’ve long stopped caring about what other people think, especially when it comes to my health; and honestly I gotta vent to someone about this right now because if I don’t I will go mad.
I think about the Twins. I think about the Twins a lot. Probably more than most people do, more than those who are really close to the Twins. This is odd because blondes really aren’t my type; I much prefer brunettes. Black or brown. That’s my thing. But still, I can’t stop myself from looking at the Twins, thinking about the Twins, dreaming about the Twins.
And if you look at them up close — like really close — you’ll notice many imperfections. Yes, they are beautiful, but not in the traditional sense. They’re not real bright either. And they embarrass themselves by, you know, talking. They’re so far removed from reality too… yet I still can’t get them out of my mind.
Because the Twins are a supreme tease really. I know I can’t take them seriously — not in any capacity — yet they never seem to go away either.
Then, every once in a while, I’ll let my mind wander… to a place where it’s just me. Me and the Twins. Hangin’ out… havin’ fun… doin’ stuff.
So no matter how hot they are, how hot they get, how hot they are together, with or without me, at the end of the day, they are related to one another and, well, folks, that’s just gross.
Hate me ‘cuz I made you realize you think about them too, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(*Image courtesy of Hollywood Tuna)