Sunday, October 16, 2005


Things Guaranteed to Happen During the World Series:

Before at least three games, the ceremonial “first ball” will be thrown out by someone who has approximately as much to do with baseball as crop rotation, and who literally wouldn’t know a hard slider from a marital aid.

In a brief, praise-laden ceremony, an aged Hall of Famer who died during the season will be memorialized with a hagiographic, sentimental tribute despite the fact that his few surviving contemporary colleagues clearly recall him as an arrogant, surly, self-centered, bigoted prick.

Someone will sing the National Anthem so poorly or annoyingly that an indignant American viewing aucience will actually forget about Janet Jackson for almost thirty minutes.

One of the Series' s batting heroes will be a marginal backup player whose hitting so thoroughly sucked during the regular season that he was nearly traded for a whirlpool bath. The player, who hit no more than four home runs during the season, will hit at least one to win a game, which will get him not only laid, but onto the Letterman show.

At least one big-ticket TV commercial broadcast repeatedly during the games will star a player whose widely-favored team, to the surprise of everyone and the dismay of the sponsor, was humiliatingly beaten in the Playoffs.

A hitter whose bat was so hot in September that you could get a tan from it will not only record fewer hits than Yo Yo Ma, but will hereafter be nicknamed “Double Play.”

If the Angels are in the Series, during the telecasts from L.A. the camera will spend more time on TV and film celebrities in the stands that it will on the dugout.

A young pitcher so new to the bigs that he’s still recovering from minor league food will match off against a marquee hurler whose salary would bail out Haiti, and beat him.

At least five post-game interviews with an outstanding player of that game will require the use of interpreters: three Spanish, one Japanese, and one from southern Mississippi.

One night, a slumping veteran outfielder will drink straight bourbons until 4 a.m., at which time he will be found in the hotel lobby trying to place cellphone calls on a cordless razor. The next day, although half paralyzed with a hangover that can actually be heard from three feet away, he will stagger to the plate to pinch hit in the final inning and take a hanging curve into another zip code to win a game.

An otherwise mediocre player will run wild in one game, making several defensive plays of highlight reel caliber and driving in a hatful of runs. He will subsequently test negative for illicit drugs, because the major leagues do not test for veterinary medications.

President Bush will call the winning team's manager and say, “Congratulations, but I wish you were the Rangers.” The manager will think, but not actually reply, “Thank you, Mister President, but I wish you were John Kerry.”

Sports Illustrated’s cover will show a dozen winning team players hugging, high-fiving and champagning one another and singing “We Are Family”.” By next spring, two will be traded away, three more will leave as free agents, and one will be under indictment for domestic abuse.


Blogger ....J.Michael Robertson said...

Last night I was at a gathering where several of the participants attempted to engage in extended "drollery" and "remarks of a humorous nature" -- to little or no avail, I must report.

If only something of the caliber of the foregoing had been available! Everyone in this great nation is familiar with the national pastime and its nuances. Here is a bundle of guaranteed laughs. But I suppose Gresham's Law is as operative in humor as it is in monetary matters.

October 16, 2005 at 7:31 PM  

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