Howling at the moon
It's November and that means... Baseball!!!
Fortunately it's a balmy 60 degrees F in New York City tonight so the players aren't exactly freezing but it's still probably pretty chilly in center field. A series between the Mets, a mutant splicing of the Dodgers and the Giants who both left the big apple for West Coast gold, and the preposterously named KC Royals/Kings/Chiefs/SunshineBand is hard to accept. Watching this World Series is painful - classic Mets choke.
|My Bling Hurts|
I'd like to go back in time 101 years ago when Baseball was fun, unpredictable and CRAZY. I'm talking about the 1914 Virginia Mountain League and the best that D League baseball had to offer including the wonderfully named Staunton Lunatics. This was a simpler time (perhaps a more honest time) in American history - it was certainly a more insensitive time because the Lunatics were named after the infamous insane asylum located in their home town. The VML only lasted one year, but it must have been a joy to watch those players in the warm sunlight, during the long summer days - you know, when baseball is supposed to be played.
Instead I'm watching an endless competition between two expansion teams as NYC midnight approaches on a chilly autumn night. The Lunatics are sane in comparison.