It's as if I have been shot out of a rocket and I am feeling kind of a parched quality from behind, and I look up and I see a star. And that star is, Barry Bonds, of the San Francisco Giants! The only problem is Barry, you don't play.
Most of you my friends, and LJ, know my hateful feelings for the game of baseball, but I honestly can say that tonight, I tried to watch a game, for 2 reasons. One: I usually listen to jazz cd's until late night tv starts and find a hockey game to watch with the sound off at the same time.
Two:
There were no hockey games on again, and it's hard to watch a show with no sound unless it's sports, so baseball it was.
I cannot believe baseball is considered a form of entertainment for viewers. When everytime the King of the homerun, the so-called greatest hitter ever, the black Hank Aaron, the Sultan of sweat, the Mailman, Air Barry Bonds, steps up to the plate, the other team says, no thanks, we'll pass on this one. What are they playing cards? Is this Asshole? I don't want to use my pair yet, I'll pass and take a drink, your turn Kimmie. Tommy, beer bitch, get me another. No this is supposed to be a professional sporting event.
When 75 percent of people watching the world series are watching to see Barry hit, how is this even allowed, or fun for that matter? That would be like, pulling the goalie everytime Mario wants to shoot. Sooner or later he's going to quit the game out of sheer boredom and of a lack to challenge his top of the class skills. Same thing with Bonds, you spend your whole life trying to improve and get better, and when your finally the best, the opposing teams can decide whether or not you get to play.
Not only is it screwed up, but the pitcher and catcher go through the anguish of actually playing catch for 4 throws to intentionally walk him, and slow the already snail speed game even more. Why not help speed up the world slowest game and say to the ump. "hey, we are going to walk him." Than have him walk over to first base and wait for instructions from the coach that tells him when to run to second base. If he makes it to second, holy shit look out! This is where the only skill part of the game happens, at second base, why? He is all alone. No coach standing next to him to whisper in his ear, or to take his batting gloves from him, or hold his hand, or to gently pat his behind in a "good game" kind of way, or even scarier, show him the path to third base and when to go. If Barry makes the correct choices and makes it to third, there is another coach waiting for him, to help him find his way home. How nice. Please. Sport my ass. Can these players think on there own?
So needles to say after watching the 3rd intentional walk of the evening I changed channels, dashing any hope of converting me to any type of baseball fan. Professional sports were created with the intention of entertaining people watching them, but have now become another commercialized, money-hungry industry, just below Christmas and Easter. OK, I have had enough. Baseball sucks.

Goodnight everybody.
Mark Metzel