Great baseball game last night. I picked the Bluejays to win despite the fact that they are an overwhelmingly unlikeable team. I'm not totally sure why this is. Maybe it's their beer can hurling fans, maybe it's the supremely arrogant, bat-flipping, look at ME star, Jose Bautista, or maybe it's just my xenophobic grudge against Canadian baseball teams. But, I make my baseball predictions purely on the merits, not with my heart. So I'm one for one. However, I might not have been if the Orioles had been managed by practically any other manager in baseball.
All of my baseball life I have been told about the brilliant baseball mind that dwells inside the dome of one Buck Showalter. Maybe so. Maybe the dude has forgotten more about baseball than I've ever known. But apparently last night he forgot that the best closer in baseball was on his roster. Instead of bringing Zachary Britton into the game with two on and one out and the season on the line in the bottom of the 11th inning, he decided to leave the hapless Ubaldo Jimenez on the hill, he of the ugly 5.44 ERA. The rest, as they say, is history. Nice job, Buck. That's like deciding to pick up your hot date in your rusted out 1975 Pinto and leaving the bright red Maserati in the garage. That's like deciding to serve the President of the United States corn beef and cabbage while there's filet mignon in the fridge. That's like . . . well you get it.
But that's the great thing about baseball. It's the great game of what ifs.
Yesterday was one of those days. I knew it was going to be a stressful pressure cooker long before the sun came up. It was set up for stress. I had three high anxiety appointments, and three administrative foul ups to mitigate, all before lunch. But, it's the paperwork stuff that's the worst. My invaluable administrative goddess, Kristin, was on vacation, which left me and my sledgehammer personality to try and deal with the sort of bureaucratic knitwittery that requires patience and forbearance. It had the potential to get ugly. But, some sort of miracle happened. I actually was able to steady myself, rein in my worst instincts, and spend an hour and forty five minutes on the telephone communicating with idiots and morons without so much as a "wait a gosh darn minute!" All three problems got resolved in my favor without acrimony or bloodshed. It was a beautiful thing.
Today will be equally stressful, as Pam and I prepare for our weekend getaway in Gatlinburg with the kids. Heading west and to higher ground seems like one of my better ideas considering the weekend forecast! Yep, watching playoff baseball on a 60 inch flatscreen in a luxury cabin high up in the Smoky Mountains with my family seems like a top five decision of 2016 to me!
All of my baseball life I have been told about the brilliant baseball mind that dwells inside the dome of one Buck Showalter. Maybe so. Maybe the dude has forgotten more about baseball than I've ever known. But apparently last night he forgot that the best closer in baseball was on his roster. Instead of bringing Zachary Britton into the game with two on and one out and the season on the line in the bottom of the 11th inning, he decided to leave the hapless Ubaldo Jimenez on the hill, he of the ugly 5.44 ERA. The rest, as they say, is history. Nice job, Buck. That's like deciding to pick up your hot date in your rusted out 1975 Pinto and leaving the bright red Maserati in the garage. That's like deciding to serve the President of the United States corn beef and cabbage while there's filet mignon in the fridge. That's like . . . well you get it.
But that's the great thing about baseball. It's the great game of what ifs.
Yesterday was one of those days. I knew it was going to be a stressful pressure cooker long before the sun came up. It was set up for stress. I had three high anxiety appointments, and three administrative foul ups to mitigate, all before lunch. But, it's the paperwork stuff that's the worst. My invaluable administrative goddess, Kristin, was on vacation, which left me and my sledgehammer personality to try and deal with the sort of bureaucratic knitwittery that requires patience and forbearance. It had the potential to get ugly. But, some sort of miracle happened. I actually was able to steady myself, rein in my worst instincts, and spend an hour and forty five minutes on the telephone communicating with idiots and morons without so much as a "wait a gosh darn minute!" All three problems got resolved in my favor without acrimony or bloodshed. It was a beautiful thing.
Today will be equally stressful, as Pam and I prepare for our weekend getaway in Gatlinburg with the kids. Heading west and to higher ground seems like one of my better ideas considering the weekend forecast! Yep, watching playoff baseball on a 60 inch flatscreen in a luxury cabin high up in the Smoky Mountains with my family seems like a top five decision of 2016 to me!
