Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where it's one ... two ... three strikes you're out at the old ball game!
You never know what you're gonna get on your plate at "The Gods Are Bored." This time it's a heapin' helpin' of Baltimore Orioles Baseball!
See this gorgeous, adorable, sexy young cutie? This is Cal Ripken Jr. as I want him to be enshrined in my consciousness. Throughout my entire girlhood, well into my young womanhood, I was a hardcore Baltimore Orioles baseball fan. My whole family loved the Orioles. By the time this fabulous hottie strode onto the field, I'd already been bleeding Orioles orange for more than 16 years.
It happens, though, that I became an Orioles fan when the players were big men and I was a little girl. Funny how this happens, but I caught up in age with the players on the Baltimore Orioles. And just as I did that, they signed a spectacular hunk named Cal Ripken, Jr.
Oh, you should have seen him play! He was graceful, he was quick. He played finesse positions with the physique of an outfielder. And he never missed a game. If you bought a reasonably-priced box seat ticket, expecting to see him on the field, by damn he was on that field. You could set your watch by it. And every year, year after year, he suited up in Orioles orange. No trades, no scandals. No stinkin' Yankee pinstripes.
Cal Ripken Jr. floated my boat.
So, who is this man who just gave a speech as he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame? Can that possibly be Cal Ripken?
No wonder my f****** knees hurt all the time.
You'll see more in this space about descending into geezerhood, but goddamn, I just got back from a night out at the sports bar, and they were showing Hall of Fame footage on the big screens. There wasn't enough vodka in the joint to soften the blow of seeing Cal Ripken retired, bald, and round.
For the three of my readers who are under the age of 1,000: My sympathies to you. You will never, EVER see a player like Cal Ripken in your entire lifetime. Go ahead, test his urine as often as you like, you won't find bull testosterone in it.
Don't even get me started on Brooks Robinson. If he was running heaven, I'd still be a Methodist.
IN CAL AND BROOKS WE TRUST, AMEN.