I just watched Andruw launch one onto Waveland Avenue for his 40th homer in an otherwise lackluster performance, & it moved me to put down my paying work & instead write a catch-up entry to a blog that absolutely no one, to my knowledge, reads. Yet such is the nature of my congnitive process, like one of those machines that spits out lottery numbers on ping pong balls. You never know what's going to come out of it.
Anyway, I've been derailed by a few things. First of all, I had my roof replaced a couple of weeks ago & in the process lost my satellite dish. It took a week to get it remounted, during which I had to resort to listening to the Braves on the radio -- which actually wasn't so bad, since that's how I caught Reds games as a kid growing up in southwest Virginia. That was in the '70s, the days of the Big Red Machine, and most of us were Reds fans; but none of the TV stations in the area carried the syndicated Reds games, & there were no superstations back then to cut into local markets -- not until Ted purchased WTCG-TV 17 in, what, '76? '77? Anyway, the Braves were always my second favorite team because of geography and Henry Aaron; but they profoundly sucked back then.
But I ramble. There's not much to say about the present, except that they'd better solve their pitching problems soon. Doesn't look like Devine is the answer -- it's simply too soon for him. Farnsworth: Bad back. Reitsma & Kolb: just plain bad. Brower -- a dead ringer for The Tick -- in Richmond. Powell: damn. Might as well buy Foster a mop & bucket to keep in his locker.
Happy 47th to Julio. Enough for now. The more you drink, the better I sound.
Posted by MHB
at 9:52 PM EDT
Updated: Tuesday, 23 August 2005 9:58 PM EDT