Monday, August 20, 2007

This Is Not A Baseball Blog 17

One has a lot of time to think while waiting for customers at a yard sale. I sat on my porch yesterday morning, feeling the first chill of autumn brush Maine and thinking about the splendid game of baseball. In particular I was musing on our Boston Red Sox, the pride of New England, and how allegedly fearsome bat JD Drew has the look of one of the club house God Botherers. I know nothing of his religious learnings but he has a youth pastor goatee and eerie calm in the midst of a long season of suckitude; prime signs of one who will kneel beside Schilling, Varitek, and Wakefield to welcome their personal savior while Manny Ramirez spits sunflower seeds at them.

"Uncle Terry's Traveling Revival Show" I thought to myself, pausing to ponder how famously lumpen yet optimistic Red Sox manager Terry Francona dealt with brazen displays of Christian humbug from these men playing a child's game for a living. Then it hit me: Terry Francona IS Wallace, of Wallace & Grommit fame. To whit:

Wallace

Francona


I can easily see Francona padding about in his pajamas with a big mug of cocoa (that has "Cocoa" written on it), being pleasantly surprised at finding an unexpected cracker in a packet he thought was empty and hitting the sack with a copy of Popular Mechanics and his teddy bear no later than 10pm in the off season. He is no more troubled by the impact of overt religiosity on team dynamics than he is by global warming: such things are beyond his purview and have yet to penetrate his fuzzy and cheerful little world.

For some reason, this image warms my heart.

3 comments:

Rikki said...

speaking of "unexpected cracker" ... how disappointed I was so many years ago when I first learned that Trot Nixon was the Chief of the God Squad before Schill the Shill arrived. And then I heard, for the first time, him reference how God helped him hit for the cycle on night or something.

Anyway, I suspect that was partly behind him being shipped to Cleveland. Or, at least, it's fun to pretend as much.

SkookumJoe said...

what?

weasel said...

A few years back we were sitting over in right at Fenway when some mook fired off an awesome heckle at Trot. After listening to his buddy yell "Hi! Hi Trot! Say 'hi' Trot!" and being ignored by Game-Face Nixon the mook shouted "You are wasting your time pal, Trot only talks to Jesus."

Loved it.

SJ- baseball has been infested with genuflecting mega-churching happy clappies. It would be as if all those Quebequois on skates suddenly started slinging hail Marys around in post game interviews. Or if those be-mulleted men in short shorts in your adopted country started yeling "Fair Dinkum, I love Jesus!" as they trotted off the oval.

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