posted on April 21, 2009 00:50
Touch Em All Like You Mean It!
Another weekend series against the Cubs at Wrigley yet again provided some lasting images for fans of both clubs. Over the course of three matinees on Chicago’s north side we were treated to countless ‘there’s no better place to be on a sunny day than here’ observations from Fox and FSN broadcasters, a litany of crowd shots featuring Cubs and Cards fans side by side throughout the ballpark and of course a pair of bullpen collapses from our local squad…for good measure.
Friday’s gritty performance by the Cards was nullified by the eighth inning two run bomb of Soriano’s bat that further cemented him as the Cub’s most lethal bat and thus the team’s biggest ass hat.
In case you missed it, Soriano’s shot to left center was followed by some sort of six shooter/rock em sock em robot salute as he touched first base and saluted the sea of Cub fan clowns who were happy to forget his four previous dreadful at bats.
While I likely would have been just as put out had Soriano simply touched them all, given a fist bump to the guy on deck and then thanked the lord god in his Spanglish press conference, his theatrics made me loathe him even more.
Of course it also made me wish the Cards had a guy that would do something as flamboyant when he rounded the bases.
A part of me is glad the Cubs employ a guy that I find so easy to hate. When Soriano’s not being the lead off liability that even Chicago fans have to admit he is, he’s doing the in-sync butt jump with his fellow outfielders to celebrate a win or the beyond questionable skip jump thing each time he camps out under a routine fly. It’s all adored by the same Cubs fans who ignore Fukudome’s usual futility by wearing Japanese flagged headbands, think Derrek Lee is merely off to a slow start and believe the slogan ‘It’s Gonna Happen’ is a battle cry and not fodder for nearly all 29 other fan bases who have seen more playoff productivity from their squad since the Eisenhower administration.
For a long time Cardinals fans have had to sit back and watch other players trot the bases in celebrations that could make Ocho Cinco blush or, at the very least, rewind his Tivo. From Jeffrey Leonard’s ‘one flap down’ antics in the ’87 NLCS to Jeff Kent’s overly excitable helmet toss 17 years later to the antics of Washington’s Elijah Dukes, who after a walk off against us last year, felt the need to bait the home plate umpire into an impromptu brawl after he didn’t like the call on the previous pitch.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand that it’s not exactly Redbird code to flip a bat or admire a moon shot before heading towards first, but couldn’t we get something that would provoke a little more talk around the water cooler from our guys?
I’m just thankful we don’t have to witness anymore robotically animatronic sprints around the diamond after home runs off Scott Rolen’s bat.
Sure, on a rare occasion, Albert will tee one up and keep an eye on the ball to see if it’s actually going to decapitate somebody in the bleachers, but other than that, we don’t have anybody on our roster that’s gonna warrant an inside fastball to his head the next time up and thus a bench-clearing and thus an opportunity for LaRussa to look even more agitated with the media in the postgame.
And that’s all I really want.
So for the Barten’s, Greene’s, Thurston’s and Rasmuses still trying to make a name for themselves on this team, do us a favor. Ham it up!
Run with bat in hand to first, hand it to McKay at the bag and head butt him, take off your batting gloves on the way to second, stick them under your crotch and then directly under the nose of the opposing shortstop, slap Oquendo on the ass when rounding third and on the way to the plate quickly scarf down some pop rocks and mix them with a coke (you’ve kept in your back pocket the entire time) just in time to be foaming at the mouth like some sort of deranged Sci Fi superhero when you touch home.
Then bypass the predictable forearm bump with whosever on deck and, instead, flick him in his junk.
He’ll find it just as funny as I will; otherwise he might be a robot.
JCarnage gets to play out his home run fantasies in Thursday night softball even though a ball hit over the wall is an automatic out in most instances. JCarnage24@yahoo.com