Inside Pulse 12

Diehard BaseballFAN Weeks 7 & 8

Welcome to another installment of Diehard BaseballFAN!

Chasing 85: My Year With the Kansas City Royals

Well, it was an eventful two weeks, with me, Chuck Platt, learning some lessons. I learned that Adam Eaton is a pretty cool cat, that the Royals are going to break my heart, that Mark Teahen’s dog thinks I’m strange, and that I am the worst MLB 09 the Show player in the World.

It all goes back to Week 6. To be honest, I was in a slump. Readership was low, no one was replying, and the other contributors went AWOL. I felt like quitting the whole thing and moving on with my life. Maybe I would start reviewing magazines instead, or something. Then, Alex Lucard told me that there were a gang of hits from a Twitter account, Espy Teahen. After reading the posts, I realized that this was the Twitter account of Mark Teahen. I mean, the Twitter account of Mark Teahen’s dog. Cool either way, I guess. This made me happy on two counts. On one hand, this means that my dream of one day owning Mark Teahen’s pants might come true. On the other, people are actually reading this thing.

All of this happened after I blew off writing the Week 7 column. I was going to really, I was. My wife instead suggested we go to the K for T-shirt Tuesday. Who am I to turn down beer, a t-shirt, and baseball? I got thoroughly wasted and watched the Royals struggle to keep up with the lowly Indians. Then, in the 9th inning, magic happened. Down 3 runs, Mike ‘What the Hell Am I Chewing’ Jacobs took what he assumed to be ball 4. Not so fast, the umpire declared. Mike strode back into the batter’s box for pitch number six, which he crushed into the bleachers. Mark ‘I Won’t Give Chuck My Pants’ Teahen strode up and took the first Kerry Wood pitch he saw out of the park. Down one, Miguel ‘Miggy Stardust’ Olivo came to bat. Four balls later, the scariest catcher in the AL was on first with a free pass. David ‘Don’t Call Me Double D’ DeJesus knocked Miggy home and the place exploded. Then came the greatest slugger that baseball has ever seen, the feared William Paul Bloomquist. He is too mighty for a nickname. Willie smashed the ball up into the air and when it smacked leather, the winning run came home and the whole stadium erupted. Literally. My car was covered in soot and ash from the volcanic blast that Bloomquist laid on that ball. Fear the Spork.

I tell you this story because this is how the Kansas City Royals will break my heart. Every couple games, they will play like gods in Powder Blue, sweeping majestically around the bases. Then, they will play like today, losing 13-1 to the hated Tigers. My sadness is palpable. If you were in the room with me, you could taste the disappointment. I want so badly for the crowned crusaders to succeed, but achieving victory seems elusive as a vaseline covered hummingbird. Why must though forsake me, Gil Meche?

On another a final note, I want to bid good luck to Adam Eaton. The rightie from Seattle, most recently an Oriole, was released last week. I met him and found him to be a cool, easy going dude. Hell, I told him about my quest for Mark Teahen’s pants and he thought it was a hoot. I will always rue the hours of overtime I worked the night before his final game in KC, since I was too exhausted to attend the game. Keep your chin up, boy-o.

Next week, not one mention of Mark Teahen’s pants. Unless he gives them to me. Hell, I might even talk about my ongoing season of MLB 09, but I doubt it.