Brethren,
Standings thru games of Wednesday, June 11
1 |
|
Monarchs |
5202.20 |
2 |
|
Tribe |
4950.40 |
3 |
|
Wahoos |
4902.30 |
4 |
|
Tigers |
4814.00 |
5 |
|
Cubs |
4795.10 |
6 |
|
Redbirds |
4671.70 |
7 |
|
Chiefs |
4596.70 |
8 |
|
Bums |
4575.60 |
9 |
|
Blues |
4504.20 |
10 |
|
Senators |
4439.80 |
11 |
|
Skipjacks |
4350.30 |
12 |
|
Bombers |
4310.80 |
13 |
|
Bears |
4259.20 |
THE TRIP
Thanks to
Mouse for regaling us with his Mousetrap last week and his insightful if not
provocative commentary on the league, the game of baseball, and the Trip,
including all of the swell pictures.
And
speaking of pictures from the Trip, provided below are a few more, courtesy
of Mouse, from the Milwaukee leg of the junket:
Shamu and
friends befriend Chef Carl,
another
beloved MLB mascot.
Colonel
Curmudgeon and friends
BT’s dream
concession stand!
Big Guy,
Shamu, and a declining Rusty Staub
Thanks to
all of the participants on the Trip, allowing us to extend our skein to 30
consecutive years. Wow, just listen to the sound of that: Thirty
consecutive years! Let’s make sure that we extend it to 31 next
season with a blockbuster junket to Tampa!
DREAMWEAVER
As most of
you may be aware, I recently put our acreage—my beloved One Particular
Harbor—on the market. There just aren’t enough hours in the week to tend to
it the way that I want to, and with Will heading off to college in the fall,
it just seems like the right time. Or so I thought.
One night
last week—Tuesday—I was awakened with a start by a dream, a very realistic
dream which involved the intervention of God in the form of James Earl
Jones. Or at least I think it was a dream, although I was working on
a model airplane earlier in the evening. Anyway, the dream went something
like this.
(Skipper
lurches upright in bed)
“IT IS
TIME!”
(voice of James Earl Jones)
“Time
for what?” (me)
“TIME
FOR YOU TO LISTEN TO ME.”
“But
it’s freakin’ 4 a.m., dude!”
“IT IS
TIME FOR YOU TO GET YOUR BUTT OUT OF BED AND GET YOUR PROPERTY READY FOR THE
TWO SHOWINGS TODAY, THE FIRST ONE AT 10:15 A.M.”
“But I’m
tired, and I didn’t get home until 1:30 a.m. because of that crazy storm
that blew through Nebraska last night.”
“I KNOW
ALL ABOUT IT, MY SON. I WAS THE ONE THAT WHIPPED UP THAT LITTLE SURPRISE
FOR YOU. THAT IS WHY YOUR FLIGHT HOME FROM ATLANTA HAD TO BE DIVERTED TO
KANSAS CITY, AND WHY YOU EVENTUALLY HAD TO RENT A CAR AND DRIVE BACK TO
OMAHA.”
“But why
would You do that to me?”
“TO
TEACH YOU A LESSON, MY SON. TO MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND THAT IT MAY NOT YET BE
TIME TO SELL YOUR PROPERTY. YOU SHOULD HAVE ASKED ME FIRST. OH, AND IN
ADDITION TO THE THREE HOURS OF SLEEP, WHEN YOU GO OUTSIDE YOU WILL ALSO FIND
THAT I HAVE ARRANGED FOR HUNDREDS AND HUNDREDS OF TREE BRANCHES, LEAVES AND
OTHER ARTICLES OF TREE AND LAWN DEBRIS TO BE DROPPED UPON YOUR DRIVEWAY,
AROUND YOUR FRONT AND BACK DOORS, IN YOUR POOL, AND IN THE ENTIRE POOL
AREA. YOU WILL NEED TO CLEAN ALL THAT UP BEFORE YOUR FIRST SHOWING THIS
MORNING.”
“Well,
that sucks, but at least I have my four children to help me out, so that’s a
relief.”
“YOU
HAVE BEEN SNIFFING AIRPLANE GLUE AGAIN, SKIPPER. YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN ON
THIS ONE.”
“Tell me
something I don’t know.”
“IT IS
ALL PART OF THE LESSON AND MY GRAND PLAN FOR YOU.”
“Who are
You, anyway? You sound a lot like the guy from Lion King, and what is that
little creature on Your shoulder?”
“OH, YOU
MEAN RAFIKI? HE IS MY SIDEKICK.”
“Wasn’t
he with You in Lion King? Why is he here with You now?”
“HIS
AGENT IS MY BROTHER-IN-LAW. WHERE I GO, HE GOES.”
“Back to
the clean-up drill. So You are saying, not only do I have to pick up my
kids’ perpetual messes in their rooms, in the basement, family room and
kitchen, I also have to clean up all of the storm debris in the pool area
and all around the house?”
“THAT IS
RIGHT. YOU ARE A QUICK STUDY.”
“But
that will be hours and hours of exhausting work. It’s only fair that my
kids should help.”
“THE
ONLY FAIR AROUND HERE HAS MOVED TO GRAND ISLAND, AND THAT’S NOT UNTIL
SEPTEMBER.”
“And I
will have to do this before each and every house showing, I mean, work for
hour upon hour like a Tasmanian devil,
to get it
all picked up and cleaned up and such?”
“HOW ON
EARTH DID YOU MAKE IT THROUGH COLLEGE, SON? YES, OF COURSE, BUT ONLY IF YOU
WANT TO SELL THE PLACE.”
“Do I
have any other options?”
“HOW
MUCH INSURANCE DO YOU CARRY? I HAVE THIS FRIEND, TIMON THE TORCH, I COULD
REFER YOU TO.”
“No,
thanks. I’m sure I’d get caught. And I wouldn’t do well in prison.”
“INDEED,
YOU WOULD NOT.”
“Could
You remind me again why my kids won’t be out here helping me with all this
work?”
“IT IS
THEIR BIRTHRIGHT. IN THE SUMMER, THEY GET TO SLEEP LATE EVERY DAY, GET UP,
HAVE ALL OF THEIR FRIENDS OVER TO SWIM AND HOT TUB AND TRASH THE PLACE, AND
EAT YOU OUT OF HOUSE AND HOME, ALL WITHOUT LIFTING A FINGER TO HELP. ACCEPT
YOUR BLEAK FATE AS A PARENT AND MOVE ON.”
“Okay, I
guess I’ll get to work, Big Guy in the sky. You know, we’ve been here at
One Particular Harbor for 17 years this fall. I will really miss this great
place, although not all the work.”
“GO ON.”
“Well,
I’m just saying, this is a big change for me. Do You have any advice?”
“FOR
THAT, I GIVE YOU MY SAGE FRIEND RAFIKI.”
RAFIKI:
(in a deep Caribbean accent) “CHANGE IS GOOD, MY FRIEND, BUT IT’S NEVER
EASY.”
“That’s
it? You woke me up at 4 a.m. for that?”
“I DO
WHAT I CAN. HAPPY HOUSECLEANING, MY FRIEND.”
And then I
woke up. And with that, I bid you farewell for this issue. Have a great
weekend!
Skipper
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