That's Church

If you’ve been a regular reader of my blog since my Burgh Blog days, you know that I have obsessions.

REAL INTENSE OBSESSIONS.

Bryan Adams is one because his voice does something to me.

For a while, inexplicably, Blake Shelton was one. I think ’cause he’s real tall. [shrug] Like I said before, I don’t pick my obsessions; they pick me. Amen.

The movie Strictly Ballroom is one. Because it’s kickass.

Andy Van Slyke was one.

David Cook. Zima. Nutella.

My latest obsession is Roberto Clemente.

I’m reading everything I can about him. Watching videos of him in action on YouTube.

At :24 of this video, he runs almost exactly like Phoebe does in Friends.

With abandon.

I’ve written my July column about him already and I’m only halfway through this book about his life.

I’ve become an annoying sponge of the squarepants variety. I soak in what I can and then I squish it back out by talking my husband’s or father’s ear off about whatever amazing thing I learned about Roberto.

And now that I’ve said all that, this post isn’t actually about Roberto Clemente.

I’m weird like that. Messing with you all, “Monkeys. Monkeys. Monkeys. Monkeys. RAINBOWS ARE WHAT I REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT!”

This post is about this excerpt from the Maraniss book:

Ridiculing the Pittsburgh Pirates was one of the simple pleasures of the national pastime in the first half of the 1950s. The Boy Buffoons of Baseball, Life magazine called them. “The atrocities they committed under the guise of major league baseball were monstrous,” wrote Marshall Smith. “Pirate pitchers threw the ball in the general direction of home plate and ducked. Pirate batters missed signs as blithely as they missed baseballs … Sporswriters accused Pirates of running the bases with their heads tucked under their arms.”

… The Pirates were bound for the cellar every year, the only tension came with guessing how many games back they might finish. In 1952 when they were accused of fielding a TEAM OF MIDGETS (emphasis mine), infielders so short that balls bounded over them for doubles, they ended up fifty-four and a half games behind the Brooklyn Dodgers.”

Wow.

That’s not all, you can read the article from Life and also see some awesome old advertisements from the 1950s here.

Another great line:

The principle elements of the Pirates recent strategy seems to be to score a run early in the game and then pray for rain. When there was no rain, the team kept looking for a large hole to open up in the earth in the vicinity of second base.

So, you see, the point of my post is not monkeys. It’s that the Pirates were once laughingstocks praying for the earth to open up and swallow them, and then one day they were world champions. RAINBOWS.

Right now, they’re riding the Laughing Stock roller coaster like they’re trying to break the Guinness record for riding it the longest. But eventually they’re going to hit one dip too low or one corkscrew too tight and they’re going to puke and beg for the ride to stop.

Who knows when it will happen or under which ownership it will happen, but history tells us that it happened before and it can happen again.

At least that’s what my Kool-aid tastes like this morning.

Rainbows.

Happy Easter, Pittsburgh!

I will be back to regular posting on Monday.

This is my 3,000th post as a blogger for The Burgh Blog/That’s Church.

And with a tip of my hat to reader Leenyburgh, check this video out of the Pens leaving the ice after yesterday’s amazing win.

First, love Dan Bylsma’s little fist pump.

Second, please watch Malkin punch every single player.

In Soviet Russia … um … arm … punches … you?

I got nothing.

Worst 3,000th post ever!

Also, when Malkin is playing again, can I take over his job as Vice President of Celebratory Arm-Punching?

Can I also be AVP of Celebratory Butt-Slapping?

What’s Mario’s number again?

Before we talk Pens (SQUEE!), let’s check in with the Suckitude. Yeah, I know I said I wasn’t talking about them, but this is getting ridic.

• Pedro went 0 for 2 last night in our 6-0 loss. He’s now batting .177. LOL.
• Ronny went 0 for 3 last night and is now batting .170. OMG.
• Andrew McCutchen left the team for undisclosed personal reasons for an indeterminate amount of time. WTFBBQ?

But the good sports news for Pittsburgh is the Pens winning in double overtime last night.

The stress of that overtime was so great that I couldn’t bear to watch it full-size on my TV. Instead, I activated my channel guide which shrinks my currently viewed program down to a small box in the top right corner of the TV and that’s how I watched a good portion of OT. I figured if we lost in OT, it would be much less painful seeing it happen in a 12-inch box rather than on a giant 42-inch rectangle of pain and suffering.

Is that weird?

Shut up.

When Neal, or as I, and I assume many of you call him, Napoleon Dynamite, scored, I was first jubilant and then on rewind and re-watch in full size, I almost felt bad for this kid who had a front-row seat to Neal’s sweet goal and the ensuing celebration.

STUNNED.

You can see the video here.

Poor kid.

But look on the bright side, kid. You could be a Pirates fan.

That’s real pain.

1. Recent super light posting has been brought to you by Lung Cheese. Motto: “[cough] [hack] [gag]”

Today will be more of the same, except maybe with more cowbell.

2. Is “more cowbell” the greatest pop culture reference to enter our daily lexicon in the last twenty years?

I believe so.

3. Last night I walked into my bedroom to find my dog standing very still on his hind legs. When I turned on the light, he froze, looked at me, and then dropped down to all fours and walked out.

I think my dog might be a closet upright walker.

[shudder]

4. Pedro Alvarez went 0 for 3 last night, bringing his batting average to a vomitous .183.

Ronny Cedeno went 0 for 3 as well and brought his batting average down to a putrid .180.

Also, the Pirates fell below. 500 ball again, so we’re back to not talking about those piece of suck losers.

5. A 13-year-old boy delivered his new baby sister and the kicker (KICKER! GET IT?! Fetuses kick like mothers. MOTHERS! GET IT?!) was that the mother didn’t know she was pregnant.

Now, I know this is not a new phenomenon, but it is a medical phenomenon that my brain rejects on account of how my own pregnancies went.

I mean, between the heartburn and the indigestion and the finger numbness and the general fatness and the acute ankle elephantitis and the kicking and the kicking and the GOD-AWFUL KICKING and the way a baby has of taking all your important organs and shoving them to a tiny crawl space in the back of your body so your pancreas is all up in your kidneys’ faces, and add to that the exhaustion, the moodiness, the big giant boobs out of nowhere, and then you’ve got an eight-month-old fetus using your bladder as a punching-bag, and I just don’t understand how a woman could not know she was pregnant until a baby started trying to break out of the womb.

6. There is a Lego convention coming to the David L. Lawrence Convention Center this summer.

I can’t wait to tell my son. “LEGO CONVENTION?! HOW COOL IS THAT! I CAN’T WAIT! WHOOO!”

I think he’ll be excited too.

I can’t help it. I love Legos. I just hate cleaning up Legos.

The Oreck does a good job though.

7. One of my Pittsburgh New Year’s Resolutions was to visit the Franktuary and I did that today for lunch.

I chose the Mexico hot dog. (note: I can’t call a hot dog a “frankfurter” because it sounds too much like fart and next to penis I think fart is the ugliest word in the English language. Phlegm is pretty high up there too.)

It’s a hot dog topped with cheddar cheese, mango salsa and guacamole and it is the best hot dog I have ever had, hands down.

Here it is before I destroyed it like a boss.

Licking your monitor will only further frustrate you.

Get thee down to the Franktuary to try it yourself. It’s on Oliver. Look for the red hot dogs sign.

8. This Rob Rogers Brewed on Grant in which Lukey is dressed up as Robin might be my most favorite one yet.

In an episode of The Baristas, there is a part where one of the characters is reportedly off camera running up and down the street screaming “Peduto” at things.

So now, when I next see Bill Peduto, who I love, I’m going to say “Peduto!” but I’ll say it like Seinfeld says “Newman!”

Also, Rob Rogers, the juice box will never get old. NEVER.

(h/t D.)

9. I’m just linking to this and not writing about it because what if that’s one of your grandfathers or something?!

The title of the post over at The Superficial is “Ke$ha Made a Friend” and that friend is in Pittsburgh and that friend is standing in a window of the Pittsburgh Athletic Association building and that friend is VERY VERY NAKED.

(h/t Scott and Mike)

10. The Pittsburgh Magazine Best of the Burgh voting is live.

I’m particularly excited to see who wins best Local Twitter Feed.

My vote is easily for @cranberryperson.

As for my vote for Worst Pittsburghese Accent.

TOO EASY.

I promise you that’s not a rickroll.