Humph.

Well, my lovelies. There's something very un-American about ties. They're practically the embodiment of all things Canadian. And nobody wants to be Canadian. But that's what we're going to have to hope for, isn't it.

Don't Go Breaking my Heart.

You know what team? I really was prepared to let this season go. I was ready to not expect much.

But then you went and had such a fabulous April. I started to trust you. And then you decided to suck. Not cool, boyos. Not cool.

Ain't Misbehavin.

Apparently, Jose Iglesias didn't receive word that this is the year that we're all going to act like actual adults and not just chronological ones. Or maybe he thought that the clause applied only to major league players. It would appear that Iglesias has taken to pouting (and don't we know all about pouting shortstops?) because he is in AAA. 

Having a bad attitude is certainly not going to help his case but we here at Rain Delay Theatre are delighted with the news. We've been looking to produce Richard III for awhile now but were having trouble identifying someone to play our scheming, striving hunchback. But he may have just identified himself.

Sigh.

It seems like every year this team's offense is particularly inept against crappy pitchers. Turns out this year isn't going to be different. Very annoying.

I Fall to Pieces.

So either Clay really was cheating or his supposed maturity that Farrell has gone on and on about isn't all that it was cracked up to be. He always was something of a mental midget.

But, hey Victorino!

My White Knight.

Eck is the best.

Smaller Than Life.

 Minor league baseball games, in general, are great fun. And promotions put together by minor league teams are far better than those put together by their major league counterparts. Usually. To wit: On July 1, the Lowell Spinners will be giving away Jenny Dell bobble-heads. But they have seriously underestimated the very reason for her existence.


The essence of Miss Dell, the reason she continues to be employed is not her sparkling personality nor is it her journalistic integrity, the only reason she continues to appear on my television screen (despite the fact that her voice makes dogs howl) is her boobs. And this statuette is seriously lacking in boob-age.

Of course, if you made it true to life, it would probably topple over.

Along Came Pretty Little May.

While it may have ended on a sour note, that was a real nice clam bake.

They've been a fairly consistent team, without the tendency to blow high, blow low that they've suffered from in the past. So that's good to see.  And really, there's not a whole lot to complain about-- well, that 6,7,8 in that lineup yesterday might easily have been up and down on three total pitches. (They didn't get the you'll never walk alone memo.)

I don't know that I fully trust them yet (There's nothing so bad for a woman as misplaced trust and they might yet implode) but I might be willing to upgrade my faith-o-meter from guardedly optimistic to cautiously optimistic. Don't know if there's really much of a difference between the two but what's the use of wondering?

And I apologize for this goofy post. If I loved you, I wouldn't have written it.