Hello, baseball? It’s me, Ted, your biggest fan.
I’m the one who sticks up for you every year when someone writes another of those tedious “nobody likes baseball anymore, football’s the national pastime” articles. When they complain about the length of games, you know, a half hour less than the average football game?
Yeah, that’s me. Well, I just wanted to tell you, you suck.
I’m finding it almost impossible to sit through a whole game. I get Moneyball and I understand working the count, but you know, watching people standing with a stick on their shoulder while the starter throws 87 pitches in the first two innings isn’t that fun. Neither is watching someone ground out to shallow right field while seven infielders, the bus driver, Ken Rosenthal and his bow tie are all stationed there. For God’s sake, slap it to left and become the majors’ first ever .600 hitter. No, scratch that, just flail away. Maybe you’ll achieve one of the “three true outcomes,” that is, a strikeout, walk or homer. Those things happened 67,428 times this past season. (Really, that number is not made up.)
By the way, thanks for the graphic showing me where the pitch was. Outside corner at the knees, wow, same place the camera showed it was a second ago. How do you do that?
I know I should be excited that there’s more post-season baseball than ever now, with the advent of the Wild Card game. There’s nothing like the tension of the ninth inning of game seven of the World Series. So what if it’s 12:17 AM, a few days before Thanksgiving, with the temperature at 37 degrees. “I just want to thank the Lord. I had my good fastball tonight and I think they had a hard time picking up my slider through the sleet.”
Oh and thanks for the reminder to pay my Geico bill.
in 35 foot high letters on the centerfield fence at Fenway? Genius. But no “Green Monster Energy” ad? Missed opportunity.
Anyway, you’ve got a lot of problems that need fixing. Good luck. In the meantime, I’ll watch football. “After a 12 minute review, the runner’s breath made contact with the shadow of the pylon as his entire body went out of bounds at the six. Touchdown!”