Oh you speak to me in riddles
You speak to me in rhymes
My body aches to breathe your breath
Your words keep me alive
April 2........ 40
April 4........ 49
April 5........ 52
And already today as of 1am, I have 16 people!
So….where the hell are you “newbies” coming from?
Have I pissed off a demographic that I am unaware of?
Are Catholics pissed off at my “Pope Selection Tuesday”?
Is “the man” finally bringin me down?
Anywho, I was talking to the security guard today and it was the usual conversation about baseball. Despite me being a bad “phone talking person” I’ll always talk to G about baseball on the phone for hours on end.
Yesterday I came to him bitching about the Washington Nationals and how their jerseys’ remind me of a National League All Star jersey. That’s when we got into the subject of old baseball apparel.
G: Oh Tommy boy (that’s what he calls me) about 30 years ago I had this Senator’s letter jacket. Oh it was great Tommy, I had the leather sleeves with authentic patches on each one. On the front had ‘Washington Senators’ written in fancy cursive writing. Then the back had a huge patch of the Senator’s logo. The torso was all wool so it was the warmest jacket I had. Oh it was sweet Tommy, Tom, Tom
Berg in awe: Wow! Do you still have that?!
G with glazed over eyes looking off into the distance: (sigh) No, the ex-wife destroyed it about ten years ago
G and I both held each other and had a good cry.
Actually this was the second most horrifying story I heard yesterday with the first involving one of my workers having their Achilles snapped **shudders**
Also my real reaction to G’s jacket was one of extreme empathy because I know the feeling all too well.
I grew up collecting baseball cards. My bedroom floor was filled with sorted baseball cards and I would memorize the stats on the back. Topps ’93 were good cards because they had the stadiums on the back! And don’t even think of mentioning bullshit brands like Fleer Ultra and especially Topps stadium club—the brands that killed card collecting.
The earliest cards I had were the 1988 Topps complete collection…until one day when half of the cards were gone. Mother threw them away.
I was spazzing out like Alex Sanches without his roids until my Dad sidled up to me.
Dad: Yeah I know what it feels like. I had numerous Warren Spahn cards, Hank Aaron, Mantle, Maris, and Koufax cards.
Lil’ Berg: OH MY GOD, YOU HAD THOSE CARDS? WHERE ARE THEY NOW?
Dad with eyes glazed over looking in the distance: Thrown away…
Lil’ Berg: Christ Dad, is there a moral to the story? That makes me even more frustrated. What the hell is wrong with women?
Dad: I don’t know son, I just don’t know.
Then I attended Twins spring training in ’95** where I met tons of ball players. I left Florida with a pennant signed by Molitor, Puckett, Aguilera, Knoblauch, and Tom Kelly. In two weeks that pennant was folded up and stored away after being pinned on my bedroom wall.
So with that I ask,
What the hell is wrong with women?
**It is worthy of note that my family stopped over at the Yankees spring training site where I was also trying to get autographs. I noticed one player along the third base line signing autographs with only two people waiting in line.
Berg: Who’s that guy over there?
Yankees fan: That’s the new guy. Someone by the name of Jeter
Berg: Oh pfff, I’d rather wait for Ruben Sierra.
From that moment on, I’ve always regretted not being able to land Ruben Sierra’s autograph.