After I posted my last piece to the Studly Pastures, my girlfriend promptly came downstairs and pointed out all the mistakes that I made, including the most glaring that I repeatedly (and by repeatedly I mean each and every time) misspelled Caitlyn Jenner's name. I spelled it with a K because I went ahead and assumed that like EVERYBODY else in the family whose name starts with K that she would follow suit.
Well, kids, just like the old saying goes "When you assume you make an ass out of yourself for misspelling a transgender's name over and over again throughout a blog post."
An hour later she asked me if I had any intentions of changing it and I sat there and thought about it for about three seconds and then promptly said, "Nahhhhhh." Let it be. Maybe the good people will think it's some sort of weird intentional joke. It could be funny...right? Besides...what's the worst that could happen?
WHAT'S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN?!
I must be losing it in my old age because I forgot for just a split second that I lived in the Twilight Zone and there would be consequences and repercussions to my actions. I had upset the balance of the force and tilted it ever so slightly in favor of the Dark Side. I never thought that an old foe, long cast into obscurity, would take the small window of opportunity to rise to power yet again.
I've become as power blind as Yoda.
If you've read this blog, on at least the two occasions I've mentioned it prior, then you are already privy to this information: I despise Cole Hamels. Back in 2008 he sold his soul to the Devil to rise up and smite my Tampa Bay Rays in their one and only World Series visit. I slunk back into the darkness and began my elaborate plans to make sure Hamels lost his arms in a tragic wheat-thresher 'accident' but then I remembered...you don't sell your soul to the Devil without him collecting payment at some point.
Sure enough, enter 2015, and Cole Hamels is still toiling away with the Philadelphia Phillies only now they're phucking terrible and the worst team in baseball. Before yesterday, Hamels was 0-4 in his last 9...9! starts and had an ERA over five! The writing powers that be said that Hamels looked "disinterested" on the mound. Hah! It was done. Back in 2008 I really really wanted Hamels' career in baseball to end with an Arby's franchise that he would have to eventually work at to keep it from going bankrupt. I guess I really wanted to one day be in the position to say to Cole Hamels, "I said Horsey sauce, you moron! How hard is your job really?" I feel like that would crush him.
But I guess the next best thing would be for him to have to be stuck with his beloved Phillies only no matter what he did--no matter how he pitched--he would always lose. You lose! You get nothing! GOOD DAY SIR!
Then the whispers started and wouldn't fate have it...Cole Hamels popped up as a trade deadline name.
What? Cole Hamels? Don't these people know you can only sell your soul once to the Devil? How in the Hell is his name popping up as a hot commodity at the trade deadline SEVEN years after he was last relevant? There are baseball players that disappear into obscurity every single day and it's only years later that we ask ourselves in passing "Hey, whatever happened to so and so?" and why can't that happen to Cole Hamels? The ONE guy (other than Alex Rodriguez) who I want to disappear and he's the chosen one to be resurrected?
Then I thought about it and realized it wasn't that big of a deal. So what if he gets traded? He's still Cole Hamels. If the Phillies want to release him from perdition and get a ham sandwich in return, who I am to deny them? That's roughly what I equate his worth to anyways...a ham sandwich. And not even a good ham sandwich. So there.
Then yesterday happened and Cole Hamels threw a no-hitter against the Cubs. You know what probably raises your stock a helluva lot right before the trade deadline? A goddamned no-hitter.
The best part, the quintessential moment that really makes you remember where you are, came in the ninth with two outs. Hamels was one out away from his no-hitter when rookie phenom Kris Bryant blasted a pitch to dead center. The Phillies center fielder, whose name will not sully my unicorn stables, misplayed the ball horribly. It was as if he was expecting the ball to just clear the fence and he was going to go for a heroic jump-up-the-wall and save the day maneuver. The only problem was that the ball was not going to clear the fence and would fall feet short on the warning track. He realized this about a fraction of a second before the inevitable, went to make the adjustment, and slipped on the dirt that makes up the warning track. When he slipped, he fell forward, and just managed to get his glove out in time to snag the ball before it hit the ground and Cole Hamels secured his legacy as the only man to sell his soul to the Devil twice.
Damn you, Twilight Zone...damn you to Hell.
Don't think it's lost on me that he did it against the Cubs. My favorite player to hate no-hit my favorite team to hate and that's such a weird flux of emotions that I'm not sure what to do. Cry and pee?
All those years when Tampa was the worst team in baseball and the best thing we got to celebrate was losing to Cole Hamels in the World Series.
Sigggghhhhhhhhh.
The only solace I can take is that maybe this is a blessing in disguise. Maybe his once again fame will lead him to a lady of the night and they will spend the night together only the lady is really three raccoons in disguise and they'll chew his face off in the morning. At least Hamels can never take my dreams!
Float on, graceful swans...except you Hamels...stop floating.
27.
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