Final game of three in Milwaukee. Reds (48-67) won the last two, which means the Brewers (51-64) are sad at life right now.
I will be in church when this is scheduled to go live, which is where we all need to be living ever since the Ross Ohlendorf Late Night With Stomp The Sure Win Extravaganza, so I’mma just assume what happens here. Billy Hamilton is day to day after jamming his wrist. ( UPDATE: Jam acceptable. He’s in the lineup.) Poor Cody Reed is involved, though, so we can all pretty much guess how this is going to unfold.
|1. Billy Hamilton (CF)
2. Zack Cozart (SS)
3. Joey Votto (1B)
4. Adam Duvall (LF)
5. Brandon Phillips (2B)
6. Scott Schebler (RF)
7. Eugenio Suarez (3B)
8. Ramon Cabrera (C)
9. Cody Reed (P)
|1. Keon Broxton (CF)
2. Orlando Arcia (SS)
3. Ryan Braun (LF)
4. Chris Carter (1B)
5. Hernan Perez (3B)
6. Scooter Gennett (2B)
7. Manny Pina (C)
8. Jake Elmore (RF)
9. Wily Peralta (P)
|ERA||IP||SO||WHIP||NAME SOUNDS 100% LIKE A LOONEY TOONS CHARACTER?|
|Cody Reed||6.36||46.2||42||1.67||I mean dude’s 0-6 and this whole thing is starting to play out like a lesser Merrie Melodies episode|
Welcome to the 2016 season, when your pitcher has an ERA north of six, but no worries, so does the opposition.
DOWN ON THE FARM
A couple years ago, I had a residency at the American Antiquarian Society. It contains some of the oldest printed material in the history of the United States. I went there to study Revolutionary War-era ephemera. Ephemera is bits and scraps of daily living no one thought important to the wide scheme of life–receipts, fliers, shopping lists, ads. Ephemera is the crap of life.
So of course I am attracted to it. Ephemera tells the story of who a person, a nation, and a culture is. You can labor for weeks over nice fancy Declaration of Independence and all its spellchecked “accordingly all experience hath shewn”s, but nothing’s going to tell me who a person truly is until I’ve seen the interior of his shopping cart and the contents of her purse.
Ephemera is us. It is the unconscious normal of life. The 80’s we old folks experienced is not the loss of Challenger or the 1984 election; it is a box of Pepperidge Farm Star Wars Cookies, my Dukes of Hazzard Matchbox car, the unquestionable necessity of a trip to the record store in order to own music, and the vastly different way the Pepsi logo looked. It’s why the “Time After Time” McDonald’s commercial punches me directly in the tear ducts when I see it; the details of the Styrofoam containers and boxy Happy Meals are long-buried details of a normalcy I’d long since forgotten. The detritus of the 90’s, in the same way, surrounded us but did not consciously impress upon us until we’re forcibly reminded of their absence: Long distance call cards, AOL disks, scrunchies.
These are the surroundings which create an age, and these are why we instinctively look at the uniform style of a baseball team in the instant we attempt to date place it. Are there stripes or no stripes? Polyester or vests? Exactly how stupid are the caps?
Now that we are becoming increasingly crapless, we look to digital flash-bys. Sometimes these are important.
Sometimes you look at these and you know, you just know, that in about seven years or so this is going to be a punchline of MC Hammer proportions, and utterly inexplicable in about a century. In 200 years, people will look at this the way we currently side-eye ancestors who cleaned their homes by hurling the contents of their bedpans out into the street.
Well done, Tugas. Well. Done.
A THING FROM TWITTER
I desperately wanted my Thing from Twitter to be truly spectacular Redleg Nation retweet of the Reds account. It was a GIF of Billy Hamilton hugging Joey Votto’s head has he hung dejectedly over the dugout fence (you really, really needed to see this GIF.) And then Billy Hamilton gently pats Joey Votto on the back, and Joey Votto scowls and swats at him kind of like this.
And what Billy Hamilton does next is not flinch at all, and instead continues to pet Joey Votto with immense calmness, and it was just about the most amazing Votto-involved footage I’ve ever seen, and I include in this statement this one time he tried to slide. It was a most hypnotic combination of Angry Votto and Brooding Votto. I must have watched it fourteen times on a constant loop, with each conclusion flapping my hands around and squeaking like the American Antiquarian residency scholar I am.
I took a brief break to attend to such necessities of life as inhaling, and then went back to my feed because I was going to write a Pulitzer Prize-winning treatise about clubhouse relations and personality interactions that was going to heal all wars forever and end poverty, all inspired by this GIF.
where you goooooooooooooooooooo? Where you gooooooooooo, giiiiiiiiiif?
If any of you happened to capture or Beta-videotape or DVR this compelling footage of Billy Hamilton remaining absolutely still as a very large jungle cat wearing a Reds uniform lunged at him, let Redleg Nation know immediately. It was the most significant moment in this club’s history since stirrups.
You guys just really had to see this gif.
Proud aunt Mary Beth Ellis is a freelance writer and college teacher who lives in Cincinnati, OH. Her home site, BlondeChampagne.com, has existed in at least some form since 2003, and Mary Beth has been a regular columnist with one publication or another from the age of 16. Her first book, Drink to the Lasses, was published in 2006. She currently teaches college, runs personal wine tastings, gives literary readings, and stares into the middle distance.