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Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Just Ramblings

Head at your feet. Fool to your crown.
Fist on my plate. Swallowed it down.
Enmity gauged. United by fear.
Tried to endure what I could not forgive.

Just once I wish I could run into Brad Radke at a baseball field. Just once so I could tee off on one of his pitches. I would love nothing more than for this scenario,

Radke studies the catcher’s signals from the mound carefully nods his head as he has selected his pitch. Boof patiently waits with the bat cocked for the upcoming pitch. He knows nothing about how to hit a curveball, knuckle, or changeup, so he figures he’ll just swing like mad at the first pitch that comes. Radke takes a step back to begin his windup, turns his head toward the catcher, and fires away a 93mph fast ball. Boof starts swinging right when his arm starts forward as the ball explodes from his palm. Boof struggles to see this dart pass by the infield grass that proceeds the batter’s box but can just catch the ball with his depth perception. The ball and bat seemed to be timed just right.
CRACK!
Oh did that feel good as the ball seemed to naturally bounce off the bat and was sailing toward deep left field. Everyone stops and stares in awe at this ball sailing, sailing until it drops innocently over the fence.

That’s what I think about every god damn night right before I fall asleep. Seriously, every night.

It’s not so much the homerun as it is the “CRACK” because I can only imagine how good such a feeling could be. To be able to knock the shit out of a ball at 90mph has to be an incredible feeling!

I mean I know I can hit the crap out of the ball with someone pitching at 60mph but I’ve never had anyone pitch to me that can do more than that.

When I grow up…and I’m filthy rich I’m going to buy a pitcher’s contract and have him pitch to me for a good half hour a day. I’ll make my own make shift ball park with pane glass windows along the left field wall and try to break them all. I will also have some infield targets for line drives, so I can bash away at whoever is on my craplist for that day.

Then I would have a flagpole inside my baseball park somewhere because that’s cool. I would also have a dirt track that leads to the pitchers mound from the batters box like Arizona and Detroit have.

I would have the biggest inner tube ever hanging out in centerfield, so I could pretend that I win $50,000 every time I happen to hit a ball that goes through it.

Hmmm grass of course. Ooooh I would have the dimensions so that the foul pole would be something ridiculous like 296 or something to have that “Pesky pole” thing in play.

Hmmm after all that, I would never be able to sleep again.

2 comments:

Hog said...

Remember that one curve ball of mine that you hit about 350ft or so. It almost hit the softball outfielder that was playing in the other field. Good times.

Boof said...

*tear* yeah and then the outfielders got kinda mad at us for hitting them.
Good times