Strike My Arse

Now that a strike in baseball has officially been averted (until 2006, I guess, when we can do it all again), I can finally write some of my thoughts on the whole ordeal. Some people might be surprised that I haven't already put up a long spiel about the strike negotiations and all, but I've been too busy suffering as a baseball fan to write about the topic.

The analogy has been used before, but it's seriously as if all of us collectively as baseball fans are the pathetic boyfriends who, no matter how many times their girl cheats on them or calls them a loser, always take her back. I feel like the owners and players just continually slap me in the face, insult me, and milk me for whatever money I'm sucker enough to give them, yet I just can't leave. Either because I am too blinded by love or dependence on the game, or I have simply nowhere else to go.

At this point, it really is almost meaningless that an agreement was reached. Haven't we been disrespected and insulted enough already? The fact that these people somehow found some way to split billions of dollars should not earn them a pat on the back. However, the fact that it took them this long to agree on something like this is enough to make me livid, regardless of the final terms of the settlement.

They dragged me around for months while they sat in their hotel rooms and ate room service. While fans continued to sign their paychecks, the players were practically packing up their lockers and getting ready to leave in the middle of their job. So-called "negotiators" bickered for every last cent up until a mere 3 hours before game time, leaving all of us hanging like bloody fools. Can you imagine having made plans to take your family out to Wrigley today, taking off work early, driving into the city and to the park, only to find someone there telling you to go home because the players don't feel like working?

Last night, these jackasses were still fighting because of an $8 million dollar difference in where to set the luxury tax threshold. That's just ridiculous. Baseball makes billions each year, and they argue about $8 million. It's almost like you are buying a $300,000 house, and you threaten to walk away if the owner refuses to throw in his $10 clock radio to finish the deal. Now I know the analogy isn't completely accurate because we're talking about a threshold, but still... when you are talking about the average person in this country making $30,000 give or take, these numbers are so big that they lose perspective.

I'm pretty sure neither Bud Selig, nor Donald Fehr or Tom Glavine read my blog, but I just need to spit some words at them right now. To the owners: don't sign a contract to pay your players $250 million, then complain that salaries are out of control and that you are losing money. I'd switch places with you any day. If you are not a fan of baseball, don't be a damn baseball team owner, because you are bringing the game down with your lack of love. We know that baseball is a business no matter what, but it's not like an oil mining business so run it with some sense of humanity.

To the players: I'd trade places with you any day too. So would any of your millions of fans. God blessed you with the talent and we know you worked hard to get to the major leagues, but would you please find some way to get by on your measly salaries, even though they rarely exceed $20 million per year? You, more than anyone, should love, appreciate, and revere the game of baseball enough to not walk out because of money. All I hear is that "it's not about the money" but as much as I would like to believe that, it's just flat out bull. If it's not about the money, then what is it about? Don't tell us that "fans don't understand," we understand that each and every one of you could retire from baseball, not make a single penny for the rest of your life, and live more comfortably than any of us, who fight for 9 to 5 jobs, making only a tiny fraction of what you do. And yet you still want more.

I'm sure not every player wanted to strike, but obviously most were willing to do so, in the name of the Players Union and higher salaries. Now that it's over, they will all go back to playing and pretend like nothing ever happened. To the game of baseball, they have all shown great disdain and brought shame on themselves for their selfishness. To the fans, especially the young, they have done irreparable damage by showing that this world is ruled by greed, even in America's Pastime.

I wish I could say that I will never watch major league baseball again, but alas, I know it will never happen. I'm that pathetic boyfriend who loves the game too much, or has nowhere else to turn. I know that I will not attend games for a long time, maybe for life, because in doing so I directly feed the greedy appetites of those who continually take advantage of us. Unfortunately, I won't be able to turn away from watching games on TV or tuning in to Baseball Tonight, which end up in their paychecks somehow as well.

At least football season is here, but it may only be a matter of time before greed severely tarnishes this sport as well, if it hasn't already. Go Bears.

* An Afterthought: Fans Not Happy At Angels Game *

This story describes how on the night before the strike deadline, fans expressed disgust at a game by throwing items on the field and chanting "Don't Strike!" throughout the game. Not that throwing things is the most mature or proper thing to do, but listen to what Scott Blowenweiss had to say about it:

"I would have hoped that our fans would have a little more class than what they showed tonight by throwing stuff on the field ... that could cause injury ... I know they're disappointed, but let us play the game..."

Does this not anger anyone else besides me? First of all, if you click on the link and look at the picture, it is of beach balls being tossed on the field. You freaking pansies. What about the police officers and firemen that risk their lives to save others? What about our men and women in the armed forces around the world that deal with land mines and suicide bombers every day, so that we can live in our safe little world? Maybe there was other stuff being thrown, but I laughed for about 10 minutes straight when I saw that picture right above the Homoenweiss quote, "that could cause injury."

Second of all, "let us play the game"??!?! What did you think we wanted all along, you inbred idiots! One minute you are all getting ready to strike, the next thing you say is "let us play the game"? Think about it, if you really wanted to just play the game, nobody would be throwing stuff at you and chanting "Don't strike," ok?

Just another typical example of how dumb, hypocritical, and self-righteous some of these players are.

The Art of Matching

Yet another thing that amuses me about girls is how they have to match everything. The most obvious example, of course, is their clothes. Not only do they have to match the colors of their top and their pants or skirt, but also with their shoes and socks and sunglasses and purse, earrings, everything.

It's definitely not just clothes, though. "Even" guys match their clothes. But you know, Olivia has a blue car, and inside it she had to get everything in some shade of blue. That means blue Kleenex, garbage can, Bath & Body Works jelly jar air freshener, and little things that hang and bounce up and down from the window. In her apartment, she has matching Hello Kitty shower curtain, bath mat, toothbrush holder, towels, and probably some other things I'm missing.

A girl I knew back in elementary school once even got green rubber bands or something on her braces when it was St. Patrick's Day. If I'm not mistaken, she had green frames on her glasses too, but that was all year that she had them. Maybe she just liked green, I don't know. I wonder what she's doing these days.

My mom and sister aren't that bad in comparison, but they still care about this kind of stuff more than me. I remember when I was helping my sister order a laptop from Dell, one of the things she was most concerned about was whether she could get colored faceplates with them. Not the processor, amount of ram, or hard disk space.

As for me, I don't consider myself to be Giorgio Armani, but I'm not fashion illiterate and I think I have decent taste in clothes, albeit conservative. Yet I still find myself regularly chastised for not matching, such as wearing white socks to church or black shoes with a T-Shirt and jeans, certain grave no-no's I was quite unaware of up until recent times.

I've always figured that white goes with anything, as well as khaki pants or jeans. Same with black Docs, pretty much. And I only need 1 pair of black sunglasses and one black wallet to accessorize (said in gay voice "ack-thetthorize"). I don't wear jewelry, either, so that any matching-related headaches in that department. By the way, I've always said that you should never trust a guy that wears too much jewelry. If it's just like a small silver ring or a chain with a cross on it, it's not that bad. But if the guy has on more stuff than Elizabeth Taylor or Mr. T, then watch out.

In my car, I couldn't care less if my Kleenex was white or green or blue, and I don't even have a little garbage can, I have a Walmart bag hanging off of my shifter. I don't care enough to match anything else in my life either, nor can I imagine any other guys giving these things much thought. If my computer keyboard is light beige but my mouse is gray, I don't lose sleep over the fact that my hardware color scheme clashes. Light beige goes with everything anyways. haha...

I don't know where I get my topics from, but maybe if you have learned nothing else from my blogs, hopefully you at least see that I am living proof of the fact that you don't need to smoke weed to feel insightful, sentimental, philosophical, etc. Anyways, whenever I am dry of ideas to write, all I gotta do is talk about the weirdness and complexity of girls. Never fails. But maybe I shouldn't discuss Olivia so much in detail or else she might get pissed if someday she reads all my blog. Doubt it though, hardworking girl + medical school = 0 free time to read my long frickin entries. Maybe I don't miss school and studying that much...

Pact is Intact