As a kid, I was not into sports at all. When I turned 20, I made a concerted effort to start following baseball. Living in Balto, the O’s were the team. All along, the manager was this pip-squeak named Earl Weaver. Real loudmouth–when the team was winning, it was cos of his “managerial expertise,” when they were losing, it was cos “they can’t play for shit.” Happiest day of my life was when he “retired” (cos the Birds were in the cellar again.)
The next year, here comes Joe Altobelli–tall, quiet, lanky; you could see strategy being planned behind his eyes as he watched from the dugout. In two years, he takes the O’s from the cellar to win the Series. HOLY SHIT! John Denver came out and sang on top of the dugout! All was right with the world!
The season after the Series win, Pip-squeak wants his position back. The Powers That Be hand Joe A. his walking papers. SURPRISE!–O’s go back in the cellar, Weaver retires again, Burpo chucks baseball permanently.
In case Burpo gets it in his head to ever give a rat’s ass about Da Birdz again, TPTB ram TWO stupid, old-time stadiums into the already overcrowded downtown area, instead of one multi-purpose stadium out in the accessible Beltway-intersects-I 95 area. Then they split up the Ripkens! A question from a sports naif: isn’t a sports-playing family something you dream of having on your team? Cal, Sr., as coach, Billy as (was it?) catcher or shortstop, and Cal, Jr. (he showed up for work everyday, so what?) as team slugger. NOPE, Sr. and Billy have to go so they’ll stop hogging the limelight from Mr. 18,714-games-in-a-row.
Then TPTB tear down Memorial Stadium!
Looking back on what I’ve written, I’m not mad at the Orioles, just the &^%$s who have run them.
Thanx for letting me vent, it felt good. I’m going back to my haikus, now.