It was always an awkward moment when someone needed the red bat.
“Yeah, Billy, you can play but you gotta use the red bat.”
“But I wanna use the yellow bat like everybody else.”
“Motherfucker, you went 0-for-46 yesterday. The yellow bat is no longer an option for you.”
@Super70sSports I'll take the players that win their teams the championships over the team's GOATs any day. Sometimes, but not always, they are the same.
One thing that’s been lost culturally is the satisfaction of hanging up on someone. You’d slam this fucker down and if you were mad enough you might even get a little “ding” from the ringer. Trust me when I say it felt fucking great.
Getting a boat in one of the Showcases was peak 1988 television entertainment and your deserved reward for having the faith to hang in there through 55 minutes of terrible guesses about the price of everything.
Michael McDonald is the GOAT backup vocalist and that’s a hill I’ll die on. He’d come off the bench and hang up triple-doubles on other people’s records. Legendary.
Nothing enhances your musical street cred like a Maurice Gibb lunch box.
“But, Dad, I wanted a Barry lunch box!”
“Well, why don’t you wipe those tears off your cheeks so we can discuss the value this sweet bastard multi-instrumentalist brings to the table?”
In 1981, Fernando Valenzuela won Rookie of the Year, the Cy Young Award, a Silver Slugger, and the World Series. And if you remember it, you know it was even more glorious than it sounds.
When I was a college student, I once addressed a professor as “Mister” and he condescendingly tut-tutted me and said “Doctor.” Hey, listen, unless you can save someone’s life or you’re Julius Erving, you can settle the fuck down with that energy.