FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Posted by Alphonso at 9:50 AM
I fell asleep for most of the game. A neighbor had come over with some of that, " single malt" stuff.
I never know what to call it. It seems demeaning to call it scotch.
All I know, is that you drink it neet ( neat?). And you want more and more of it.
When I looked up, we were down 5-1. Then, things got really exciting.
The Yankees had no baserunners and made no threats, but Chase Headway ( by this point, I dont even want to get his name right ) launches a solo homer to right center. A Ballentine Blast.
The Yankees had fulfilled their two runs per game allotment, and quietly, meekly, went to bed.
Hal, of course, is still wildly optimistic and upbeat about this team. He and his genius management team have done too much to build this fine example of a team, that he is not about to look negatively on our prospects. Nor is he about to spend any money which, by the way, he has never done a single thing to earn.
If I had been in school with him, I absolutely guarantee I would have punched him bloody.
Joe Girardi is getting that same look Dick Kotite used to get when he realized the Jets were soon to be 2-12. His eyes begin to look like those of a fish. Everyone is looking to him for answers, but the cupboard is bare. An empty head.
And now Joe's head swivels, as if he is looking to see or find something that can change things.
It is the swivel of desperation.
Even in his dreams, he can only find Mel Hall.
Keep on this track, and we have a shot. If the Yankees win today, Hal gets to pretend that other kids still like him.