Meow Meows

Earlier this week we welcomed two cats to the family.  It was mentioned that there is a good chance that the cats will still be around when the youngest member of the Delligator clan leaves for college.  Something about that statement made me think about what life might be like in 16 years.

I’ll be 51 years old.  Still not as old as my parents currently are, but damn, any thoughts of still being as good as I once was will have been clearly left behind.  Am I still as good as I once was?  I think to a certain degree, yes.  I can still throw a ball pretty damn hard.  I could probably make 7 out of 10 shots from the free throw line and my golf game, though horrible by many standards, is still more than respectable.  Sure, I’ve “lost a step” and I’ve certainly lost the desire to fall to the ground, but I can still bring it in most things that I used to be pretty damn good at.

Why is it than when reflecting on “if we still got it” seems to almost always revolve around sports? Especially for men.  At this point of my life I’m 10x better at just about everything in life, but the things that seemingly matter most are whether or not I could still throw a frozen rope from the outfield corner to nail some dipshit that thinks they can score on me?  Maybe it’s time for Daddy to stop thinking he’s still that 17 year old and start realizing that he’s a washed up 35 year old.  F-that shit.  I always batted left handed and ended up playing golf right handed (left handed clubs were a luxury that wasn’t able to be afforded).  I shoot low 90’s most days and have been known to dip into the 80’s a few times a year.  I still contend that if given a set of left handed clubs and some free time that I may very well be a scratch player.  The dream of sports supremacy is still alive, bitches!!

There has been an awful lot going on in my life lately.  Some of it would make for great blog fodder, but I haven’t decided whether or not I feel like sharing with you, my loyal readers.  Some things are über personal and others are thoughts that I don’t feel anybody but me would give a shit about.

I randomly associate bands together for no other reason than I happened to listen to them at the same time.  Some bands I never listened to or cared for, but I still feel like you can’t have one without the other.  For example.

Ace of Base + 3rd Base
Rick Astley + Belinda Carlise
Seal + PM Dawn
There are plenty of others but you get the idea, don’t ya?

I damn near gave myself a headache 2 days ago trying to think of a PM Dawn song…any song.  For some reason I could only think of Gin Blossom songs.  It’s important to note that I never owned music from either band and most definitely never will.  For some reason I refused to turn to google for help.  This evening, baby momma, looked for PM Dawn music and played the little “Set adrift on memory bliss” ditty for me.  I was underwhelmed.

I was “super Shawshanked” last sunday(?) night.  As I was going to bed around 10:30 I found myself watching The Shawshank Redemption on AMC.  wouldn’t ya know those sly programmers at AMC showed it again at 11pm.  I desperately wanted to change the channel.  I fought with myself to not watch it.  I did everything I could except change the channel.  I finally drifted off to sleep sometime in the early part of the 1am hour.  I’m still paying for those few lost hours of sleep.

Phillies.  What’s to say?  I still watch ’em.  Pretty much every night.  If it is a band wagon that you fancy yourself one day jumping on, look to another city.  This team has holes that almost can’t be fixed.  Maybe the GM will open the wallet one more time this offseason and grab a difference maker of a player.  I say there’s no way in Hell that happens.  None, Zero, Zilch, Nada.

I recently read “Moneyball” and I’m looking at the game differently these days.  I’m glad I read the book, but I’m almost pissed at what it did with my baseball brain.  This evening, the Phillies were tied 3-3 in the 9th inning when Cody Asche smacked a hit to right field to lead off the inning.  Jimmy Rollins came to the plate next.

All conventional baseball wisdom tells you to bunt here.  You have to get the runner in scoring position.  Kevin Frandsen is standing on the on-deck circle and is a high average, high contact player.  Moving Asche to 2nd while sacrificing an out is what you do.  Right?  Not according to “Moneyball”.  In the world of Moneyball, outs are a commodity that you can never afford to give away (aka Sacrifice).  I fully expect Rollins to bunt…and then the craziest thing happens.  He swings away.  WHAT THE HELL?

Speaking of the Phillies, Tom McCarthy, play-by-play man for the Phils TV crew was absent this evening.  I didn’t catch why, but with no other options, Chris Wheeler went from color analyst to play-by-play announcer for this evening.  I hate Chris Wheeler.  I mean…I despise him actually and to having to listen to his ridiculousness all night was almost unbearable.  Somebody else…somebody with a say in the goings-on in the Phillies hierarchy must know how awful he is.  Harry Kalas was untouchable.  Richie Ashburn, ditto.  Chris Wheeler?  That numbskull is apparently as well.  Where’s Andy Musser when you need him?

I’m coming up on the end of my 2 year no complete clause from my last “real” job at the end of this year.  Might be time to start sending my resume to the competitors.  Could be fun to see if anybody would make a move on me.

That’s all for now kiddies.

 

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