Don't Kick a Sleeping Dog
After much time off, I'm motivated to write again. I'm deeply engrossed into the NL MLB Playoff scene, of course, since the Cubs are actually close, and we all know that doesn't happen that often. Trust me, it's sort of like seeing Hailey's Comet.
So, after the Cubs do their best attempt at imploding, losing the first two of a three gamer with the Marlins (who they haven't beat in the last nine tries), the Brewers go and do a really, really, really stupid thing. They act on a situation that started brewing (pun intended) last game when Pujols got buzzed, but not hit, late in a laugher. And we know Tony LaRussa doesn't forget that sort of thing. When your season's over, emotional situations tend to take on less consequences, and it becomes Man Time.
With all that being said, the Cards are up late (8th inning) over the Brewers, but only by one run. The scoreboard folks in Milwaukee post the Cubs loss, and the peeps go crazy. Here we go, it's our time. Or something like that, I guess. But, what does Ned Yost do? He responds to a beaning of Fielder in the second, and hits Pujols square in the back, getting himself and the pitcher tossed in the process. And, it was easy to read his lips as he said, "That's a Manager". Essentially taking his dick out and challenging anyone not to call him a Man. That's cute and all, but y'all are in a pennant race. If by showing off your manhood you meant to over-emotionalize a trivial situation and instead letting your macho perhaps cost your team a chance at the postseason, then congratulations. Mission Accomplished. You just lost 7-2. Very Impressive.
And, as a Cub Fan, THANKS.
I double-dare you to do it again.
Too bad I know nothing is done with the Cubs until the Fat Lady sings, and when I think about that concerning the North Siders, a scary picture of Rosanne comes to mind. I'm not counting chickens, ya dig? But, I certainly appreciate Ned and the boys handing us one.
The blue flowers are from me.
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