![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Oct. 6th, 2012 07:41 pm
Feels like October at last
It may be just as well that I had to miss most of the Wild Card Game doing to being stuck at work since the last three innings had more than enough tension to fill nine. Naturally I tuned it just in time to miss the Cards' rally and instead catch Mujica doing his level best to piss away the resulting four-run lead. Had I known a bad call in the 8th inning would lead to a 20-minute delay due to an ugly home crowd raining debris on the field and making it unsafe for play, I would've scheduled the dinner break for then rather than just before.
Of course, this was all confirmation of my already none-too-high opinion of Braves fans. A couple weeks ago, I triggered some trash talking from one in the comments to a FB post of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
carneggy's. When he asked how I could possibly think the Cardinals would advance from their disadvantageous position, I responded, "See: last season". His reaction was a snotty "Pujols who?" and "Prepare to get Medlenned!". It was pointless explaining that the Cards had actually made the playoffs once or twice before Pujols so I left it at that--until last night, that is. I'm not proud to admit it, but I ended up wrestling for several minutes with FB's piss-poor archiving in an attempt to find that post again and add, "WHERE YOUR MEDLEN NOW?" before giving up and going out to a friend's art thing.
I think you'll find my reaction quite understandable if you've ever had to endure a single "tomahawk chop" from a stadium full of Braves fans. I found this embarrassing when I first learned about it thirty years ago, so it's hard to express how appalling it is to see that they are still at it. And they do it all the fucking time. I thought it was something they reserved for home runs or at least earned runs, but no, it's like the worst drinking game ever. Batter gets on base? Tomahawk chop. Pitcher gets a strikeout? Tomahawk chop? Manager spits in a cup? Tomahawk chop. It took ten minutes before I was selectively muting the tv and afterwards I had to play Art of Noise to clear my brain.
I saved my real celebration for tonight, the eve of the playoff series against the Nationals. (Yeah, I can't quite believe I'm typing those words either.) As far as I'm concerned now, this is all gravy. Some "rebuilding year"! But there's not going to be another successful World Series run as exciting as last season's this year or, possibly, in my lifetime. I mean, I'm sure there'll be more championships, but outside of Hollywoodland underdog stories like that are simply few and far between.
Of course, this was all confirmation of my already none-too-high opinion of Braves fans. A couple weeks ago, I triggered some trash talking from one in the comments to a FB post of
carneggy's. When he asked how I could possibly think the Cardinals would advance from their disadvantageous position, I responded, "See: last season". His reaction was a snotty "Pujols who?" and "Prepare to get Medlenned!". It was pointless explaining that the Cards had actually made the playoffs once or twice before Pujols so I left it at that--until last night, that is. I'm not proud to admit it, but I ended up wrestling for several minutes with FB's piss-poor archiving in an attempt to find that post again and add, "WHERE YOUR MEDLEN NOW?" before giving up and going out to a friend's art thing.I think you'll find my reaction quite understandable if you've ever had to endure a single "tomahawk chop" from a stadium full of Braves fans. I found this embarrassing when I first learned about it thirty years ago, so it's hard to express how appalling it is to see that they are still at it. And they do it all the fucking time. I thought it was something they reserved for home runs or at least earned runs, but no, it's like the worst drinking game ever. Batter gets on base? Tomahawk chop. Pitcher gets a strikeout? Tomahawk chop? Manager spits in a cup? Tomahawk chop. It took ten minutes before I was selectively muting the tv and afterwards I had to play Art of Noise to clear my brain.
I saved my real celebration for tonight, the eve of the playoff series against the Nationals. (Yeah, I can't quite believe I'm typing those words either.) As far as I'm concerned now, this is all gravy. Some "rebuilding year"! But there's not going to be another successful World Series run as exciting as last season's this year or, possibly, in my lifetime. I mean, I'm sure there'll be more championships, but outside of Hollywoodland underdog stories like that are simply few and far between.