I'm a Loser

It was every Little Leaguer’s nightmare – failure most conspicuous. How many men in suits scurrying through the canyons of old New York carry the burden of losing the game as little boys because leather failed to secure the old spheroid? The ignominy must have led them to foist all those toxic assets on the unsuspecting masses.

Is Luis Castillo the new Marv Throneberry? Legend has it that Marv’s New York Metropolitan teammates threw him a birthday party in the clubhouse but didn’t give him a piece of cake because they were afraid he’d drop it. Renouncing his resolution not to go against the pinstripers at home, Kev had victory in his grasp as Mr. Castillo sidled under Mr. Clutch Alex Rodriguez’s pop fly with two outs in the bottom of the ninth. ‘Twas not to be. Two runs scored. Kev’s billfold asked “Can’t anybody here play this game?”

And how about Dwight Howard? He has become the bizzaro world Superman. Mr. Howard only had to make one of two free throws to put the game out of reach for the central Floridians. But no! as Howard Cosell used to interject during the half-time highlights on Monday Night football. One Lala land three-pointer and an overtime later, he of the glistening other-worldly shoulders was shrunk to a mere mortal.

Kev won’t speak for you, but he’s of the mind that we are all little boys. If Kev were Mr. Castillo or Mr. Howard, he would be crying like a 10-year-old who just struck out with the bases loaded or clanged the go-ahead free throw off the rim. But then again we are all odd fish. Failure makes some of us stronger, others of us despondent.

We want to castigate Mr. Castillo for his miscue that cost us greens fees this week, but can’t summon the nerve. He must feel bad enough.

Our cure for the “Mets”? Quit calling themselves the Mets. It smacks of the Cro-Magnon lumbering to extinction. They are the Metropolitans, lords of the universe, boulevardiers, bon vivants et raconteurs. Swagger, ye losers. After all, the pinstripers were pounding Mr. Rodriguez as if he had swatted it out of the park. Talk about a clutch “hit.” Some guys have all the luck.

College Boy

Is Alex Rodriguez the biggest gazillionaire phony who ever walked to the plate? It's times like these that make me wish I had become a lawyer. What litigator out there wouldn't have skewered him on cross-examination?

In a way, I think he's right about being young and stupid, because he is still a boy who wants it both ways. The guy had a chance to knock it out of the park like a beer league softball player, but chose instead to insult the sporting public by insisting that if he had only gone to school instead of accepting a king's ransom to play a little boy's game we all love he might have not let his cousin drill his butt with a drug to give him a "dramatic energy boost."

He didn't think he took this supplement because it makes one's muscles stronger, enabling a man of his tremendous skills to hit more home runs? No. He took it because the cruel world made him miss out on the 7:30 a.m. Shakespeare class that would have turned him around like it did so many of us.

What a baby. Most everyone's life is embarrassing. Well, mine is anyway, and I won't bore you with the details unless you insist and I've had a few cocktails.

I would have respected the guy if he just said: "Yeah I did it, a reporter found out, so sue me. The Yankees still owe me for nine more years, there is no god and you don't have to love me."

But, hey Alex, lucky me has to get some rest before my life-changing botany mid-term in the morning.