Sometimes Dreams Do Come True

I have a Golden Tee in my basement now.  See you guys never.

Back-Back-Back-GONE!

Notes from the Home Run Derby in KC last night:

- I highly, highly recommend going to a Home Run Derby if you ever get the chance.  This was a bucket list sporting event for me; I was going to go regardless of price or how many people went with me.  And it was expensive: $175 for upper deck seats (great upper deck seats, in the 4th row right by the left field foul pole, but upper deck nonetheless.)  And I could only convince one other person to shell out the cash and go with me (big ups, Hendo.)  But it was definitely worth it.  Two thumbs up.

- Never have I been more proud of a group of fans than I was of the Royals fans last night, booing the shit out of Robinson Cano.  And after he responded to the reception by getting SHUT OUT, it instantly became a top 10 all-time Derby moment, in my opinion.  I want to see that in a few years on SportsCenter when they're counting down the greatest Derby moments or something.  (Although it will never make that list, since the media has a stick up their ass about the whole thing.)  Here's the deal:  it wasn't this malicious act of hatred that was going on here.  Everyone was laughing as they were booing.  Cano promised that if a Royals player made the All-Star team, he'd pick him for the Derby. Billy Butler made it, Cano backed out of his promise, so he got his ass booed off.  It was awesome.  Don't really see the big deal.  Boo frickity hoo, Yankees fans and national media.  If it was Dustin Pedroia in that same situation, I still would've been laughing, and probably standing up in the crowd in my Red Sox gear, egging people on.  Some things are just funny.  (But don't tell that to the two little kids sitting in front of Matty P, who were decked out in Yankees gear and bawling their heads off during the entire Cano at-bat.) 

Also, this could be unrelated, but during the celebrity softball game the day before, Bill Self got booed pretty hard (there is a surprising number of Mizzou fans in KC-- it's pretty close to 50/50 with KU fans) and he responded by going yard on his first swing.  Now I'm not saying that Bill Self should be starting at second base for the Yankees or anything....but I'm not saying that he shouldn't be, either.

- A favorite pasttime of ours at tailgates and/or sporting events:  the Jersey Game, where besides awarding points for spotting the most random jersey of the day, we play a game where someone shouts out a player, and the next person to spot that jersey gets a point.  As the day progresses (and the alcohol flows a bit more freely) the examples get more and more ridiculous, like instead of just trying to spot the next Priest Holmes jersey, we have to find a Joe Montana 1994 Pro Bowl jersey.  It's a crowd-pleasing game.  ANYWAY, last night our goal was to spot a jersey/shirt/hat for all 30 teams.  We ended up one short, as we never saw a single piece of Arizona Diamondbacks gear.  Still a pretty good showing though.  It's nice to see everyone represented, it's what All-Star Weekend is all about.

- Even though the Angels are my second-most hated team (behind the Yankees, obviously, and tied with the White Sox)...I became a fan of Mark Trumbo last night.  Hendo and I were gambling (weird) and even though Trumbo was on Hendo's squad, I found myself cheering pretty hard for him.  Every homer he hit was MASHED.  Jolly good show, mate.

- Celebrity sightings:  pretty sparse, as per usual in KC...but we did see Ryan Howard walking in the outfield plaza (Phillies first baseman, not the old temp at Dunder Mifflin) as well as John Kruk and Nomar Garciaparra getting whisked away somewhere in an ESPN golf cart as we were leaving the stadium.  I got a good "No-mahhhhhhhh!!!!" yell in there.  He waved politely.

- Next up on the sporting event bucket list:  The Ryder Cup. Hopefully that one is getting scratched off at Medinah this September.

Glove Love

Our co-ed softball team, the Sunday Salooners, finally shut down this year.  After seven straight championships (Tom Emanski AIN'T GOT SHIT ON US!) and more free championship t-shirts courtesy of the Parks & Rec department than I could possibly wear, the team finally fell broke apart.  Jud moved to Chicago, James had a kid and started wavering on whether or not he wanted to play, Schulz took a summer internship, I reacted to Jud leaving like Toni Kukoc did when Michael Jordan announced his first retirement, some other teammates sorta followed my attitude, and that was pretty much that for the Salooners.  Really, half the enjoyment I derived from being on a softball team was knowing that no matter what time we played, be it 6 pm, 9 pm, or anywhere in between, Jud and I would be at the ballyard promptly at 5:15 for "advanced scouting" (read: aggressively drinking beers while listening to 90's hip-hop and heckling whatever teams happened to be playing at the time.)

However, with the possibility of the Salooners starting up again in the future looking pretty slim, I've found a nice silver lining:  I officially used one (ONE!) baseball glove for my entire life.  My parents got it for me in 1987. It survived tee ball, Parkboard, Bambino, Babe Ruth, got a nice break where its only action was random games of "baseball catch" (which consisted mostly of Russell and I "accidentally" throwing the ball into Nikki's yard across the street since she was suntanning semi-topless) then resumed regular duty with these last seven years of softball. 

And my glove was still going strong the whole time; if there was a Gold Glove award for our softball league, I would've won it for first base, no question.  Mother fuckin' J.T. Snow and shit.

Should I have referenced Keith Hernandez there?  I feel like you guys would take it as a Seinfeld reference, not a "Keith Hernandez won 11 straight Gold Gloves back in the day" reference.  Then again, how many of you know who J.T. Snow is?  Maybe I over-analyze these things.

And sure, there was the one time in 2006 when I almost cost our team a win when a routine fly ball basically exploded a hole through my glove and allowed two runs to score....and the time in 2009 where (playing first base) I took a hard throw from shortstop, caught it in my palm, and my hand bruised all the way through so I had a lump on the back of my hand.....and the dozens of jokes at my expense about how I was still wearing a glove made for elementary schoolers from everyone on the team (even the girls ripped on me).....but what I'll mainly remember are the good times.

And Nikki suntanning.