Monday, November 14, 2011
Last week I asked a trivia question on twitter, something to the effect of "in one 2006 game, one Padre tied the all-time record by walking five times in a nine inning game while a teammate struck out in all five of his plate appearances, also tying a record. Name them." That's not verbatim but I'm too lazy to go back and look it up. A few people correctly guessed that the walking man was Briles but nobody got the second guy. I said I'd reveal the answer here the next day but, yeah, you know how I am. Anyway, it was that guy who looks like a rat.
Monday, November 7, 2011
I don't have a lot to say about Kevin Higgins as he's pretty much just another footnote in a sad timeline. I do get some perverse kick, though, from seeing Friars immortalized on cardboard in a moment of failure, be it a fly ball going over Jerald Clark's head or this guy missing a tag; they're all apt. Instead, I'll focus on the background. Since September 10th, I've been jotting down random thoughts, quotes, sketches and notes to self in a large, green, hardbound sketchbook an acquaintance gave me for my birthday. I've had many a sketchpad and written all sorts of gibberish but never combined the two; frankly, I feel like a seven-year-old girl with a Hello Kitty diary. I do enjoy the quaintness and immediacy the medium provides. The whole thing comes off as I expect a rough draft of a Henry Rollins travelogue does- ongoing missives of anger, self-doubt, alienation and general disgust for nearly all that I see. If ever relevant, I may co-opt some entries for inclusion here or at the still-existing P 'n' E... but for now, it's just quotes in the background.