friday night, i was watching the tigers play the royals. they were down most of the game, which understandably made me nervous. but, have a little faith, i say to myself, and what do you know, they come back to win it.
cliche angela says the tigers are a metaphor for about 2/3 of her life.
anyhow, quip of the night from rod allen, color commentator--who sometimes says "mmmm-hmmm" with a sass that recalls cleveland (of "family guy" fame).
the scene: carlos guillen on second base, wearing a few gold chains, ready to run on contact. rod allen says, "carlos guillen, wearing his mr. t starter kit..." and mario impemba cracks up.
here's the thing: for so long these two had to call hopeless game after hopeless game, so they've really refined their "schtick". they're also terribly intelligent. and rod, who i always want to hug (who don't i want to hug? i know...) says, again with sass, things like "well, generally the tigers are going to beat you because they're just better than you."
kick ass.
1 comment:
I would say that for the first 2/3 of my life, the Tigers were my life. It was only after I turned 18 that I realized I was never going to be a good-glove-hits-for-average first baseman for the Mud Hens. (Before I got bumped to the bigs, of course.)
And when I think about it, I usually have to say that 1984 was my best year ever, too. In October alone, I started kindergarten, had a cute curly-haired girlfriend, rode the tilt-a-whirl with her at the state fair, kissed her in the hall of mirrors, and watched Alan Trammell and Lou Whitaker turn two with my glove in my lap. It never got better than that.
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