Draft Day Has Come

Brothers and Sisters:

Before we proceed, I thought I would take a moment to discuss the significance of this day. In earlier posts I have gushed a little about other enjoyable days of the year. I have staged a micro-celebration or two. I have suffered enthusiasms.

But I should be clear: no other day on the calendar quite compares with Draft Day. Today is THE day — the one day of the year in which we can truly forgive and forget one another's race, ethnicity, age, sex, gender, transgendered status, disability, and unconventional dress. Today is the day when we can look past a certain person's affinity for the Notre Dame football program. Today is the day I roll over in my bed, look at my Wife, and say:

"Sweetchuck, you're gonna want to steer clear of me until Saturday morning."

Because today we come together as equals to swear at, screw over, and hurl public insults at one another over the course of an evening. As someone who cultivates these skills year round, I always look forward to Draft Day, when I know I can practice them unfettered by social convention and unaffected by pleading looks from the Aforementioned Wife.

It has been over a year since we last had Draft Day, and I would like to pause a moment to reflect on all the very, VERY important things that happened in all of our lives in the intervening time — nah, screw it. Let's get on with it.

To you Other Eight, my friends, my compadres, my cameradoes, competitors, rivals, perpetual runners-up . .  to you to you to you I proclaim and declaim, I pronounce and announce, I command and demand and remand as follows:

THIS DRAFT DAY IS OPEN!

[ribbon is cut with Ceremonial League Pruning Shears]

Kirby Puckett

You're kidding me.

Another T-Shirt Slogan

This one seen around Fort Myers, according to the Boston Globe:

''Looks like Jesus, acts like Judas, throws like Mary."

It pains me to cite to anything by Dan Shaughnessy, but there's pain and gain in this instance.

You're not Thinking like a Magician

Hey don't rip on Castiglione. Every time someone opens a bottle of beer in my apartment they're rewarded with:

The 1-0 pitch . . . swing and ground ball . . . stabbed by Foulke . . . he has it . . . he underhands to first. And the Boston Red sox are the world champions. For the first time in 86 years the Red Sox have won baseball's world series. Can you believe it?

It never gets old.

But I kinda get why the Indians announcer gets so excited over a preseason game . . .

A Great Day

Today is a great day.

Why? you ask. Because you started this dopey blog, which no one seems interested in joining?

No. Today is a great day because, for the first time in five months, I'm listening to a live game broadcast from the Cleveland Indians' radio crew. I turned the game on around 1:30 p.m. — Tribe/'Stros in Kissimee, Fla. — and it wasn't long before I was treated to one of Tom Hamilton's exuberant home run calls.

Five years ago I had a spring training game on at work, and one of my bosses walked by the office while Hammy was screaming "WAAAAAAAAY BACK — GONE!"

"You've got to me kidding me," Ed said (Ed's used to Boston's Trupiano and Castiglione, a/k/a Flatline and Blasé). "It's a preseason game, and he's that excited?"

Yes, Ed. He's that excited.

Oh, Hammy — how I've missed you, Brother! And Hegan and Underwood, too! A hole in my heart is filled this day!

This joyous day — this great day.

Call to Order

The floor is open for suggestions as to (1) title; (2) links ("Google News" and "Edit-Me" have got to go); (3) templates (I just picked one).

Also, some very rudimentary HTML. Here's how you do links:

You type

<A href="http://www.indians.com">Cleveland Rocks!</A>

to get

Cleveland Rocks!

If you want to use special characters, but they don't take when you type them, you can use this chart. Or this one.