2. The scene in GoodFellas where John Goodman shows up in a time machine to explain to the entire cast that in the year 2067, the real mafia will take on the robot mafia for ownership of New Jersey.
3. The hot chick from Bukowski’s pub returning my call.
4. Hall opting for trade school, never meeting Oates.
5. Terry Francona saying, “Aw, what the hell. Let’s just let Casey bat anyway,” in the ninth inning of last night’s game.
Honestly, as much as I want to kick the Lugo, it’s tough to pin this one on him. It’s a game we really shouldn’t have had even a chance of winning, but the bizarre “off the catwalks and into your hearts” construction that is Tropicana Field gave us another life in the bottom of the ninth, transforming Brandon Moss’ sure pop fly out into a run scoring double.
And like so many things in my life, once I got a taste of a win, I wanted it. Badly.
Unfortunately, no. Teets decided to pull a reverse-reverse and, after setting Casey up to bat for Lugo, put the batting helmet back on Lugo’s head once the left handed JP Howell came in. And justlikethat, the feel good ninth became Dickpunch Circus (an actual circus, mind you, though not well-publicized). It was like someone took the first hour of The Empire Strikes Back and welded it to the last hour of Attack of the Clones. So I finished my beer, tossed the empty off the deck, and sought solace where it comes best. In pornography.
But this I will say: The black eye is working for Youk, making an already scruffy hillbilly of a guy look even more reprehensible. I say even after it heals, he’ll need to apply a little extra eye black to keep that “Yeah, I got this whilst kicking someone’s ass” edge.