Anyone you guys want to forward this to is cool with me. I'll continue writing until I see fit to stop.
The ground rules stay the same:
1. 30 minute time limit for me to write each entry.
2. No editing.
3. No proofreading.
4. No re-reading.
These are one-time shots. I never go back and look at them. I never learn from my mistakes. I never understand why you guys talk shit behind my back for lack of context, syntax, grammar, and any other bullshit stuff I should have learned 20 years ago in English class instead of falling asleep with my finger in my nose (which may or may not be a true story).
Friday, August 5, 2011
Fashionistos?
As my readers are already aware, I'm not the most fashion forward kind of guy. I'm more of a guy looking for comfortable clothes that won't embarrass myself or my wife/kid/mom when I leave the house. There are times when those types of restrictions just aren't possible though. Favorite things include T-shirts that I've had for 10 years that aren't quite ready for the goodwill pile, jeans that make my ass totally disappear (which I've been told is a bad thing....who knew) and tennis shoes that may or may not be the same shoes I cut grass in. Not cutting edge stuff by any means. But at least I can walk around with a fair amount of certitude that I don't look like a complete fucking retard. Which brings me to my point.....
Never, and I mean never, do I feel it necessary to dress like a 13 year old girl from 1987 and wear a pair of skinny jeans. The kids/men that wear these should be ashamed of themselves. People have been killed for less. They look like freaks. There's not a person alive that can put a pair of these jeans on and make themselves appear like a man. A real man. Everyone who wears them, including women, look pigeon-toed to the point that they could fall forward on their face at any moment. Bad ass, man! You've made the human race take 3 steps back. Mr. Strauss is rolling in his grave right now.
What happened to wanting to look tough? To looking grown up? To looking like a real person? Why are those ideals gone? Brett Favre and Dale Earnhardt......they're the guys I wanted to be growing up. I wanted a beard. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be tall (nailed it!). I wanted to have hair on my chest (and now that I do I shave it because momma gets what momma wants). The youth of today think it's cool to sit inside, do nothing but play video games, wear their hair as greasy and grimy as possible as they push and pull into and out of their eyes, and text their friends about doing those exact things as they're doing them. It feels like something's wrong. What are these kids' parents thinking? I know my dad would have beaten me within an inch of my life if I had to have his help putting my jeans on because they were too tight to put them on by myself.
I put it to you, reader, to change this way of life. Bring back the way it should be. We got through the 80s (barely) and 90s (skate or die) and even 00s (Hey Yah). The 10s needs a makeover. I'll take tailored over tight/skinny. I'll take clean over trying to be messy even though it's really clean. I'll take anything besides those goddamned skinny jeans! The next time I see a kid under 15 wearing a pair I'm going to flip out on him. I'm going to make him know that he's worthless and needs to man up, grow a pair, and buy something he would be okay wearing in a bar fight (and not the reason a bar fight a bar fight was started). The next time I see someone over 15 wearing them......well......my lawyer has urged me not to write anything more for fear of potential problems that may arise.
Never, and I mean never, do I feel it necessary to dress like a 13 year old girl from 1987 and wear a pair of skinny jeans. The kids/men that wear these should be ashamed of themselves. People have been killed for less. They look like freaks. There's not a person alive that can put a pair of these jeans on and make themselves appear like a man. A real man. Everyone who wears them, including women, look pigeon-toed to the point that they could fall forward on their face at any moment. Bad ass, man! You've made the human race take 3 steps back. Mr. Strauss is rolling in his grave right now.
What happened to wanting to look tough? To looking grown up? To looking like a real person? Why are those ideals gone? Brett Favre and Dale Earnhardt......they're the guys I wanted to be growing up. I wanted a beard. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be tall (nailed it!). I wanted to have hair on my chest (and now that I do I shave it because momma gets what momma wants). The youth of today think it's cool to sit inside, do nothing but play video games, wear their hair as greasy and grimy as possible as they push and pull into and out of their eyes, and text their friends about doing those exact things as they're doing them. It feels like something's wrong. What are these kids' parents thinking? I know my dad would have beaten me within an inch of my life if I had to have his help putting my jeans on because they were too tight to put them on by myself.
I put it to you, reader, to change this way of life. Bring back the way it should be. We got through the 80s (barely) and 90s (skate or die) and even 00s (Hey Yah). The 10s needs a makeover. I'll take tailored over tight/skinny. I'll take clean over trying to be messy even though it's really clean. I'll take anything besides those goddamned skinny jeans! The next time I see a kid under 15 wearing a pair I'm going to flip out on him. I'm going to make him know that he's worthless and needs to man up, grow a pair, and buy something he would be okay wearing in a bar fight (and not the reason a bar fight a bar fight was started). The next time I see someone over 15 wearing them......well......my lawyer has urged me not to write anything more for fear of potential problems that may arise.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Turn the Radio Up!
Bad 80s music....nothing better. I'll go to my grave believing that music was never more fun than in the 80s. It was never worse from a critical standpoint but that doesn't mean it wasn't amazing. It gets you pumped up. It puts a smile on your face. It makes you love the days when music was just something that was fun.
Starship (formerly Jefferson Starship, formerly Jefferson Airplane) gets a bad rap because they were a decent rock band who sold out and went pop. I say good for them! "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" is a classic! The movie "Mannequin" would have been awful without it. With it.....well I don't have to tell you about the lofty status it holds.
Billy Ocean......my man! "Caribbean Queen," "Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car," and "When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Get Going".......freaking awesome. No clue what Billy looks like but I imagine he's a good mixture between Michael Jackson, before he went white and started molestingElvis' daughter little boys, and Whitney Houston, before she coked out and loved all up on Kevin Costner in that awful movie that I still haven't seen the ending of even though I've watched it at least 11 times.
And if you can tell me with a straight face that when you hear "First....when there's nothing....but a slow moving dream....." you don't get absolutely stoked. Flash freaking dance, man!!! That's pure emotion going on in that song, fully exemplified by that stripper in the movie (wouldn't grade her above an 8 by the way).
Don't even get me started on Kenny Loggins......a god.
Enjoy the bad songs of your youth and you'll be a happier person. True story. You'll join me. I'll be where the eagle's flying HIGHER and HIGHER. You're the best around.....nothing's gonna ever bring you down. Listen to your heart....when it's calling for you. You can feel it coming in the air tonight. Don't blame it on the rain. We're living in a material world and I am a material girl, or boy. Now if you'll excuse me.....I gotta gotta cut loose......footloose.
Starship (formerly Jefferson Starship, formerly Jefferson Airplane) gets a bad rap because they were a decent rock band who sold out and went pop. I say good for them! "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" is a classic! The movie "Mannequin" would have been awful without it. With it.....well I don't have to tell you about the lofty status it holds.
Billy Ocean......my man! "Caribbean Queen," "Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car," and "When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Get Going".......freaking awesome. No clue what Billy looks like but I imagine he's a good mixture between Michael Jackson, before he went white and started molesting
And if you can tell me with a straight face that when you hear "First....when there's nothing....but a slow moving dream....." you don't get absolutely stoked. Flash freaking dance, man!!! That's pure emotion going on in that song, fully exemplified by that stripper in the movie (wouldn't grade her above an 8 by the way).
Don't even get me started on Kenny Loggins......a god.
Enjoy the bad songs of your youth and you'll be a happier person. True story. You'll join me. I'll be where the eagle's flying HIGHER and HIGHER. You're the best around.....nothing's gonna ever bring you down. Listen to your heart....when it's calling for you. You can feel it coming in the air tonight. Don't blame it on the rain. We're living in a material world and I am a material girl, or boy. Now if you'll excuse me.....I gotta gotta cut loose......footloose.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Payback's a Bitch
Braun got smoked! No....it's not 1942 and the Hammering Hebrew isn't in Germany. Ryan Braun of the Milwaukee Brewers got stuck right in the back by a Jason Motte fastball. Great stuff. Let's get some background on this.....
Albert Pujols, who I've mentioned before to have the greatest sounding hitting approach EVER, was at bat in the top of the 7th inning. Two men on, no outs, and the Cards are down one run. The Brewers pitcher, Takashi Saito, threw a fast ball up and in that almost took Albert's chin off. Instead it hit him in the left hand. Ouch. Hurts don't it. No big deal. Pitch got away from him I guess. I mean this is Saito we're talking about, not Sandy Koufax. He's closer to Rick Vaughn than anyone else by the look of that pitch. There was probably not a thought in Saito's head going on that wanted to put Albert on with no outs and face Holliday with bases loaded. You'd be stupid to give Albert that base. Hit him anyway. Cards got one run out of that inning because they love hitting into double plays. Just a weird pitch at an inopportune time. But it just so happens that he hit El Hombre. Not the guy you want to plunk.
The next inning Motte is in to pitch against the Brewers. Up walks the Hebe. It's 7-7, bottom of the 7th inning, the Cards have already lost the opener of the series and are down 5-2 in the season series to a team who leads them by 3.5 games in the Central Division. Motte surely isn't thinking about hitting a guy for a cheap payback is he? First one is low and inside a bit. Probably lost his handle on it. Next one.....SMACK! Right in the middle of Braun's back. Take your base you asshole. Sure Braun can bitch about it all he wants. HE wasn't the one who hit Albert Just so happened he's a great player and it was his turn to take his team's punishment. And it's not like Motte is going to wait until Fielder comes to bat. He might get eaten alive! Hit a Jew.....they're used to being picked on. No offense, Herb.
Albert Pujols, who I've mentioned before to have the greatest sounding hitting approach EVER, was at bat in the top of the 7th inning. Two men on, no outs, and the Cards are down one run. The Brewers pitcher, Takashi Saito, threw a fast ball up and in that almost took Albert's chin off. Instead it hit him in the left hand. Ouch. Hurts don't it. No big deal. Pitch got away from him I guess. I mean this is Saito we're talking about, not Sandy Koufax. He's closer to Rick Vaughn than anyone else by the look of that pitch. There was probably not a thought in Saito's head going on that wanted to put Albert on with no outs and face Holliday with bases loaded. You'd be stupid to give Albert that base. Hit him anyway. Cards got one run out of that inning because they love hitting into double plays. Just a weird pitch at an inopportune time. But it just so happens that he hit El Hombre. Not the guy you want to plunk.
The next inning Motte is in to pitch against the Brewers. Up walks the Hebe. It's 7-7, bottom of the 7th inning, the Cards have already lost the opener of the series and are down 5-2 in the season series to a team who leads them by 3.5 games in the Central Division. Motte surely isn't thinking about hitting a guy for a cheap payback is he? First one is low and inside a bit. Probably lost his handle on it. Next one.....SMACK! Right in the middle of Braun's back. Take your base you asshole. Sure Braun can bitch about it all he wants. HE wasn't the one who hit Albert Just so happened he's a great player and it was his turn to take his team's punishment. And it's not like Motte is going to wait until Fielder comes to bat. He might get eaten alive! Hit a Jew.....they're used to being picked on. No offense, Herb.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The Mighty Fed
Athletes have a shelf-life. They can't all be good forever. Football players, depending on the position, can play effectively into their 30s. Baseball players too. Basketball....sure. Hockey......definitely. Tennis......you're pushing it. Not many men have won grand slams after their 30th birthday. The numbers are out there. I'm sure you'll do great finding them. I'm not mentioning women in this because, as we know, their sports just don't matter. Sure Sharapova is smoking hot and screams like a pornstar in heat during every shot. And sure her sport is much more fun to watch than any other women's sport except for maybe volleyball (love them shorts!). But still.....they're girls.
Roger Federer is dwindling down his career these days. The greatest, most well-rounded, dynamic, well-spoken (in a ton of languages) player is getting close to the end. What should he do? Some guys dedicate themselves to fitness around this time of their careers. Working out harder and harder to get to balls and stay in plays to give themselves a shot. Sampras didn't. He was always one to finish a point quickly. Big serve, volley, put it away, thanks for playing. Roger's game can emulate that at times but not often enough. He may be the best ever but there are things that he needs to change.
Nadal = gets to everything, accurate and tons of spin, best backhand in the game.
Djokovic = great fitness, gotten quicker, more explosive, best forehand in the game.
Andy Murray = makes you make a mistake, good range, smart player.
I've yet to write of these other top 4 players that they hit through anyone. Their power is there for sure but it's not the biggest part of their games. Roger's game is pretty, steady, precise.....time to man up a little though. He's not going to get faster. He's not going to get better. He CAN and SHOULD get stronger. Keep most of the quickness that has made him look like he floats on court but add another 10 pounds of muscle on his frame and he's going to be incredibly tough to beat. Hit it harder than everyone else and they'll be forced into making a lot of mistakes, hitting bad shots, lobbing cheesecakes out there to be smashed. Simple enough to me. Can't hurt. He's won everything enough times that he can start tinkering with his physicality to see what he's got left.
He hasn't played since Wimbledon. The hard court season is going on right now. He'll play a couple tune-up events before the US Open. He's always good there. He always has a shot at winning it. If he's bigger and stronger than the pups he's all of the sudden looking up at in the standings he'll be the favorite. My guess is he won't read this and he'll fuck it up, won't win the thing, and Djokovic will go on to winning the thing and having the greatest year anyone has ever had. Way to go Roger. This is YOUR fault.
Roger Federer is dwindling down his career these days. The greatest, most well-rounded, dynamic, well-spoken (in a ton of languages) player is getting close to the end. What should he do? Some guys dedicate themselves to fitness around this time of their careers. Working out harder and harder to get to balls and stay in plays to give themselves a shot. Sampras didn't. He was always one to finish a point quickly. Big serve, volley, put it away, thanks for playing. Roger's game can emulate that at times but not often enough. He may be the best ever but there are things that he needs to change.
Nadal = gets to everything, accurate and tons of spin, best backhand in the game.
Djokovic = great fitness, gotten quicker, more explosive, best forehand in the game.
Andy Murray = makes you make a mistake, good range, smart player.
I've yet to write of these other top 4 players that they hit through anyone. Their power is there for sure but it's not the biggest part of their games. Roger's game is pretty, steady, precise.....time to man up a little though. He's not going to get faster. He's not going to get better. He CAN and SHOULD get stronger. Keep most of the quickness that has made him look like he floats on court but add another 10 pounds of muscle on his frame and he's going to be incredibly tough to beat. Hit it harder than everyone else and they'll be forced into making a lot of mistakes, hitting bad shots, lobbing cheesecakes out there to be smashed. Simple enough to me. Can't hurt. He's won everything enough times that he can start tinkering with his physicality to see what he's got left.
He hasn't played since Wimbledon. The hard court season is going on right now. He'll play a couple tune-up events before the US Open. He's always good there. He always has a shot at winning it. If he's bigger and stronger than the pups he's all of the sudden looking up at in the standings he'll be the favorite. My guess is he won't read this and he'll fuck it up, won't win the thing, and Djokovic will go on to winning the thing and having the greatest year anyone has ever had. Way to go Roger. This is YOUR fault.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Applied Physics
There are certain things I do very poorly and a few things I do well. Let's take a look at a couple of those things......pretty sure you'll be able to figure out which is which.....
The Golf Swing
I address the ball with the memory of the last shot I've hit still fresh in my brain. Don't slice. As I bring my feet to the desired width apart from each other and what I perceive to be a good distance away from the ball I get set. Don't slice. My hands are probably lined up to slice. Dammit. My shoulders aren't squared. Oh for Christ's sake I know I'm going to slice. My ass isn't sticking out enough. My back isn't straight. My head is not lined up correctly. Why the hell am I playing this God-forsaken game? I've grabbed the driver on this particular tee shot. It's probably not teed up high enough or teed up too low.....what the hell do I know?!? All I know is I'm going to slice the fucking thing. I take the club back way too high. KEEP IT FLAT YOU RETARD! I take the club back way too far. Why am I trying to see the club before I hit the ball? Your guess is as good as mine. As I start my swing downward there's no possible way I'm going to hit the ball squarely. No chance to save a slice from ever happening. How can I keep my hands in so far and expect to have a good shot? I can't! HERE COMES THE SLICE! As my hands brush my belt buckle I finally attempt to release my hands.....nope. There's the slice. That's what I was waiting for. Hit that house 200 yards away. Good work Money. And just to emphasize it let's add in my leaning forward too much, my inability to get my hands out in front of me, and you can forget about a follow-through. The perfect slice.
The Throw In
I've sprinted half the field's distance from my sweeper position to the offensive third. I'm gassed. My legs are toast. My arms are hanging limp. As I approach the ball I get my shirt ready to wipe off the soaking wet ball. Don't EVER let it slip out of your hands. Bending down to pick up the ball I'm gauging the wind. There's plenty in my face. Don't EVER throw it into the wind too high. I'm going to have to keep a wet ball low enough to cut the wind. Yeah right! Wipe down the wet ball with my shirt which is just as wet because I've been sweating. Does nothing. Guaranteeing a terrible throw. With the ball in my right hand I get my bearings a few yards off the field. Near post or far post? Where's their worst defender? Should I just throw it at the goal and hope for a deflection? Yep. Throw it hard at the goalie. What about the guy with his toes on the line looking at me like he's going to die? Does he want to get in the way of my throw? Seriously? He'll move. I won't. If he doesn't move it's his funeral. I've yet to put both hands on the ball. No use getting a better grip. Why would I? It's going to slip out of my hands anyway. I take my first three steps and I'm into my crow-hop. I've got the ball behind my head with both hands on the ball. I've got to keep my hands on top of the ball so it doesn't sail and wide enough so it doesn't slip. I should have gotten my hands set before this....stupid! As I bring my hands forward and my left/front foot hits the ground I think not of where the ball is going because I know it's going to be shit. I think of making sure my right/back foot is on the ground. Never EVER foul throw. The ball releases from my "grip" and heads perfectly in line with the goalie's hands. There are 4 guys around the ball. All it has to do is hit someone......it will. It has a tendency to do that. My follow through barely avoids the man on the line whose life just flashed before his eyes. Did he move or did I avoid him? We won't know. It doesn't matter. The perfect throw.
The Golf Swing
I address the ball with the memory of the last shot I've hit still fresh in my brain. Don't slice. As I bring my feet to the desired width apart from each other and what I perceive to be a good distance away from the ball I get set. Don't slice. My hands are probably lined up to slice. Dammit. My shoulders aren't squared. Oh for Christ's sake I know I'm going to slice. My ass isn't sticking out enough. My back isn't straight. My head is not lined up correctly. Why the hell am I playing this God-forsaken game? I've grabbed the driver on this particular tee shot. It's probably not teed up high enough or teed up too low.....what the hell do I know?!? All I know is I'm going to slice the fucking thing. I take the club back way too high. KEEP IT FLAT YOU RETARD! I take the club back way too far. Why am I trying to see the club before I hit the ball? Your guess is as good as mine. As I start my swing downward there's no possible way I'm going to hit the ball squarely. No chance to save a slice from ever happening. How can I keep my hands in so far and expect to have a good shot? I can't! HERE COMES THE SLICE! As my hands brush my belt buckle I finally attempt to release my hands.....nope. There's the slice. That's what I was waiting for. Hit that house 200 yards away. Good work Money. And just to emphasize it let's add in my leaning forward too much, my inability to get my hands out in front of me, and you can forget about a follow-through. The perfect slice.
The Throw In
I've sprinted half the field's distance from my sweeper position to the offensive third. I'm gassed. My legs are toast. My arms are hanging limp. As I approach the ball I get my shirt ready to wipe off the soaking wet ball. Don't EVER let it slip out of your hands. Bending down to pick up the ball I'm gauging the wind. There's plenty in my face. Don't EVER throw it into the wind too high. I'm going to have to keep a wet ball low enough to cut the wind. Yeah right! Wipe down the wet ball with my shirt which is just as wet because I've been sweating. Does nothing. Guaranteeing a terrible throw. With the ball in my right hand I get my bearings a few yards off the field. Near post or far post? Where's their worst defender? Should I just throw it at the goal and hope for a deflection? Yep. Throw it hard at the goalie. What about the guy with his toes on the line looking at me like he's going to die? Does he want to get in the way of my throw? Seriously? He'll move. I won't. If he doesn't move it's his funeral. I've yet to put both hands on the ball. No use getting a better grip. Why would I? It's going to slip out of my hands anyway. I take my first three steps and I'm into my crow-hop. I've got the ball behind my head with both hands on the ball. I've got to keep my hands on top of the ball so it doesn't sail and wide enough so it doesn't slip. I should have gotten my hands set before this....stupid! As I bring my hands forward and my left/front foot hits the ground I think not of where the ball is going because I know it's going to be shit. I think of making sure my right/back foot is on the ground. Never EVER foul throw. The ball releases from my "grip" and heads perfectly in line with the goalie's hands. There are 4 guys around the ball. All it has to do is hit someone......it will. It has a tendency to do that. My follow through barely avoids the man on the line whose life just flashed before his eyes. Did he move or did I avoid him? We won't know. It doesn't matter. The perfect throw.
Just Sounds Different
SCRWACK!!!!! It sounds like it was hit by a nuclear (that's pronounced NEW-CLEER, not NEW-Q-LER, for all you republicans out there) warhead. The ball absolutely explodes off the bat. It's different. It's special. It's Albert. Unforgettable.
I had been a little distracted throughout the game but some things stay with you even when you're not fully invested. Something memorable just happened. Holding a not-quite 2 year-old in my lap, 8 Budweisers deep, in 90ยบ plus 80% humidity weather, soaking wet and trying to stay alive, the sound I heard from no more than 100 feet from home plate was something legendary. Albert Pujols just hit a foul ball into the upper deck just left of Big Mac Land. It was in the air for no more than 3 seconds. Absolutely crushed. I'm pretty sure I could hear the ball scream "SHHHIIIIIIIITTTTTTT" as it flew out of play. Hammered.
At one point during the game John Jay hit a ball into right field that sounded like the sweet little ping of a fairway wood connecting on a breezy Sunday morning. Nice contact. Nothing special. I remarked to Big Willy (my dad) "Just doesn't sound like Albert's, does it?" I'm not sure if it was right after this or at another time but it was definitely later in the game.....Albert made me feel good about even mentioning it. The towering shot to the upper deck was, by all accounts, incredible. The distance was alarming. A human shouldn't be able to do that. But others have done it before. It's not Herculean. The difference on this swing was how it sounded. The way he hits makes your body react. With every swing your eyes, your stomach, and especially your ears swell with adrenaline. That sound is unlike anyone else's in the game, or anyone else's I've ever heard. It's aggressive, it's hurtful, it's excessive, it's amazing. It's the best.
If he leaves the Cardinals this offseason I will be crushed. To not be able to hear that crack of the bat, to witness something special on at every plate appearance, to have the hair on my arms and legs stand at attention with every swing will be utterly depressing. Albert makes me love baseball. He does it more than anyone else ever has or ever will. And it's all about that sound. The calm before the storm, the subtle lift of the left foot, the slight raise of the bat's angle, and the contact of the ball resulting in the climax of the most pure baseball explosion these ears have ever heard. Bring him back for the rest of his life. I'll watch losing teams if I have to. Just don't let that beautiful sound ever leave St. Louis.
I had been a little distracted throughout the game but some things stay with you even when you're not fully invested. Something memorable just happened. Holding a not-quite 2 year-old in my lap, 8 Budweisers deep, in 90ยบ plus 80% humidity weather, soaking wet and trying to stay alive, the sound I heard from no more than 100 feet from home plate was something legendary. Albert Pujols just hit a foul ball into the upper deck just left of Big Mac Land. It was in the air for no more than 3 seconds. Absolutely crushed. I'm pretty sure I could hear the ball scream "SHHHIIIIIIIITTTTTTT" as it flew out of play. Hammered.
At one point during the game John Jay hit a ball into right field that sounded like the sweet little ping of a fairway wood connecting on a breezy Sunday morning. Nice contact. Nothing special. I remarked to Big Willy (my dad) "Just doesn't sound like Albert's, does it?" I'm not sure if it was right after this or at another time but it was definitely later in the game.....Albert made me feel good about even mentioning it. The towering shot to the upper deck was, by all accounts, incredible. The distance was alarming. A human shouldn't be able to do that. But others have done it before. It's not Herculean. The difference on this swing was how it sounded. The way he hits makes your body react. With every swing your eyes, your stomach, and especially your ears swell with adrenaline. That sound is unlike anyone else's in the game, or anyone else's I've ever heard. It's aggressive, it's hurtful, it's excessive, it's amazing. It's the best.
If he leaves the Cardinals this offseason I will be crushed. To not be able to hear that crack of the bat, to witness something special on at every plate appearance, to have the hair on my arms and legs stand at attention with every swing will be utterly depressing. Albert makes me love baseball. He does it more than anyone else ever has or ever will. And it's all about that sound. The calm before the storm, the subtle lift of the left foot, the slight raise of the bat's angle, and the contact of the ball resulting in the climax of the most pure baseball explosion these ears have ever heard. Bring him back for the rest of his life. I'll watch losing teams if I have to. Just don't let that beautiful sound ever leave St. Louis.
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