Tuesday, May 24, 2005

An email exchange with my buddy the Cubs fan in Cincinnati

Reds cut closer Graves

The Reds on Monday cut ties with longtime closer Danny Graves, who had run into trouble on and off the field this season.

What are his “off the field” troubles?

He said some things after a game that were perceived to be slighting the fans. I still feel that his statement (which, as I am not a lawyer, I am paraphrasing) to the effect went: “I hate when the fans boo. That makes us feel small.” Again, I don’t see where he “bad-mouthed” the fans. Also, after he gave up 5 runs in the top of the 9th in a 3-2 game against the Tribe, he came off the field and was heckled. He made a point of avoiding the major crowd at the one dugout entrance but when he got to the other near the high-priced seats, somebody screamed obscenities at him and he yelled back and may have shown the guy that he was “number one”. Truth is, he was sucking in even non-save situations I guess.

The Cubs will probably pick him up after the steroids finally leave his body and he naturally gets 5mph back on his sinker.

So? How was this weekend? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. Turns out L & the boys were fighting off the flu last week, so I put in some good Daddy time.

Graves could be a find, and I don’t mind a guy who isn’t afraid to flip off some fans. Think Hawkins would?

Anyway, Saturday was fun. Started at the Cubs game, which was disappointing when Patterson closed his mitt too soon. Had one Sox fan kinda stare us down, when I said something about his taxes paying for US Cellular. “Don’t get personal” was the response. Huh?

We cleaned up at my house before going to Sullivan’s, where we celebrated “G’s Birthday” acc to the menu. We started playing $2 blackjack in our private room, but were not too over the top or obnoxious (I don’t think), and we eventually all (11 of us) drifted into the cigar lounge. We were then presented with the bill, and told we were not going to be further served. The explanation one of us got was that the gambling did us in. Whatever.

The nearest place that made any sense was Harry Caray’s, where we hung out for a couple beers before packing it in. Over 12 hours of drinking, and I had no real interest in fake tits, but only because I knew I would be passing out soon.

Sunday, B got up and left without saying goodbye, even though he saw Dr. T and said hello (but not goodbye), who was getting up for work. Gator and I went to the game, which was fun too because all the season ticket holders showed up, so it was a mini reunion from the 2003 playoffs. We all had lots of opinions. About 8 rows up, two Ligue-like Sox fans were stacking their mai tais and doing lots of misplaced taunting. The guy in the Fordyce #8 jersey (with wifebeater underneath) was booted in the 8th to great cheers.

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