Today seemed like it was going to be a total drag -- slow day at work, ominous thunder rolling outside, nothing but gray clouds, nothing exciting in the world of sports; in general, the type of day you should spend at home with 3 pizzas watching Jerry Springer. We racked our brains for hours trying to find something to write about. We were going to do a feature on what to expect from the second half of the baseball season, but that's too cliche. I contemplated running our Carolina Panthers preview a day early, but that'd probably have driven Kyle into a catatonic fit. Luckily, we were spared by grandpa. (Not my grandpa, mind you. I never knew either of those two old fools. This is metaphorical speak, here. Keep up.)
Following in the tradition of minor league baseball wackiness, the Sioux Falls Canaries let 83-year old Jim Eriotes take an at-bat in a game against the St. Joes Blacksnakes on Tuesday to become the oldest man to ever play in a professional game. He took four pitches, managing to foul one off before striking out. Fielders for the Blacksnakes openly laughed at Eriotes when he was at the plate and, recalling schoolyard days when the sci-fi kids were forced against everyone's will to bat in gym, everyone in the field played VERY in. Any other old man would probably take it in stride because, hey, more important things like death are on the horizon. Not Eriotes. He came back after the game firing bullets.
If I got a couple more at-bats, I'd get a hit. Easy. He wasn't throwing that hard. I fouled one off. You can be the best hitter in the world and you might not get a hit if you only get one chance. But it was a great opportunity. It was cool. Guys my age, it's no challenge. They're throwing like, what, 40, 50 mph? I'd rather hit pitches that are 90 mph and feel good about myself. If I could just get four at-bats in the majors, I could get a hit.
Hmm...a guaranteed .250 hitter? I smell a bidding war developing in Kansas, Pittsburgh, and Tampa.