Resident pragmatic and wayward speaker, Kody Colton, gave me an interesting shower thought today with a trademark smile: "Aren't Telephone poles just trees that were killed just to be put back up dead?"
I, being a rather sensible man myself, asked him if sitting on the bench was finally making him go off the deep end, or if the diet coach prescribed was making him see stuff. He vehemently denied these diagnosis and suggested another shower thought. I, also being the team medic, promptly prescribed a visit to the trainer, his pupils seemed a bit dilated anyways.
I majored in Chemical Engineering for that conversation.
Batting #2 for Kody and starting at Short. At least it's not Catching.
If a man completes a double play in a forest and no one sees it, does he actually complete a double play? I think Colton is infecting my mind.
Not Ben ate shit on his way to the bag for the double play, leaving me to do the work. What a slacker.
I helped Not Ben up and told him to tie his shoelaces, by god that freshman is franticer than Gary Buesy at a cocaine convention sometimes. He dusted himself off and unlaced and laced his shoes.
Kline also made a halfway decent catch in center, I swear he looked up and watched our faces to see if anyone saw it. Of course we did, but he just had to be sure. The Sportcenter Top Ten jingle rang from his lips as he tossed in the ball. I swear, I'm pretty sure it could have placed 11th on that list.
You know, if bees made beer, we would be taking better care of them. At least that's what I told Austin when the bee stung him on the forearm.
At first I thought we had another Brenton situation when he started shaking his arm like a drunk man who just found out rollercoasters were a thing. I walked over to the tall lanky, scrappy gotteed Georgian and asked him what was wrong with him.
I quote and unquote: "Some gol ol'fucker stung the shit outta my forearm."
Never knew "Gol ol'fucker" was Georgian for bee. Mathers had him patched up and finished out the frame with a solid, bee aided, strikeout.
God I hate hitting doubles. I wanted to put another witty shower thought but honestly I think my creativity left me when Kody replaced Caldwell in Right. That man was ringing them off left and right, "Things are never on fire, fire is always on things." "Do we get sick or does sick get you?" I swear he was losing his mind on the bench, or maybe he spends to much time on twitter.
Now, back to the doubles, nice pitch that I framed to the left side gap. If not Not Ben wasn't so damn slow I could have had a triple. Now, let's thank god that Not Ben was as slow as he is. Because running sucks. Can I get an amen?
Now, I'm not a slow person, I'm what you call: "A man who hates running even though he is marginally fast for some reason." Gerke is the same, he hates running, but he has an excuse, he sucks at it.
Mister Austin Appel gave up the ball after the sixth, after a three run home run that I, the shortstop attempted to catch, let's just say on a scale of 1 to 10, I was around a 3 outta 10 in terms of relative distance to the ball.
So far, It was a solid game, 5-3, closest game we've had in around 3 days. More importantly, it was a solid game for me, 1-2 with a double and a walk. Does anyone know if a .300+ average with a home run and 2 doubles in three games can get someone drafted? Asking for a friend.
If you think I have a pure passion for baseball, which you have all the right to have that impression, it may or may not be true, you should see, Percy "Please Calm Down" Duffy. The man, who has the only real draft prospects outside of Kline and maybe Jeffy, takes this shit way to seriously. PCD, on the outside, looks like any regular old 6'4" closer. He's tall, left handed, has a damned good sinker. However, the man is a certified maniac. I'm pretty sure his motto is: "I always give off the impression that I'm insane, if they think I'm insane, how are they going to know how to hit me?"
If you agree with that logic, I think you may be insane too. The insane fireballer set down the first guy, #55 with three straight fastballs then proceeded to scream with a fervor I've only seen out of a lion after a kill.
I think the second legitimately soiled his sliding shorts when PCD dropped a curveball down the hallway that was the strike zone. Two down one to go. Like Mike Tyson he dropped a one two right and left hook that left #7 down 0-2. After tossing the third pitch for a ball, Percy tossed his own right hook into his mit. I called to him, did Jeffy's job and mouthed the words "Please Calm Down" to him with a bright smile. He proceeded to frown and glare before trashing the kid with a fastball. He did a little shimmy then walked off the field.
I mean, that's game, but... the man looked like he just murdered three helpless batters.
Kody Colton continued his cranked sense of shower humor as I gave him a ride back to the dorms. "Did you know...?" or "You know that..." all spewed from his mouth each five minutes. God he is just to happy with life sometimes. I also heard that PCD popped a blood vessel on the mound that night. I guess crazy really does make you effective...