My Friday

So, i kinda got hammered in the stadium bleachers today. And for some reason, everyone else there seemed to be making a lot of sense to me. I'm going to reprint a lot of their conversations here and hopefully they make you feel as good as i do. i know, its a scary thought, the Grizz having lost two games in a row for the first time in what feels like forever. I mean, Mark Derosa only hit one homer in those games! wow! but like i said, what i heard in those bleachers made me feel better. The first thing i heard was by this man named George. He said the following to me:

I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a game by dying for his team. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his team. Men, all this stuff you've heard about the Grizz not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war is a lot of horse shit. The Grizz, traditionally, love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle. When you were kids you all admired Ernie Banks. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why the Grizz have never lost and will never lose a series, because the very thought of losing is hateful to Americans. Now, Grizz Nation is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the ESPN don't know anything more about real baseball than they do about fornicating. Now, we have the finest food, equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. You know, by God I, I actually pity those poor bastards we're going up against, by God, I do. We're not just going to shoot the bastards; we're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease our bats. We're going to murder those lousy LA bastards by the bushel. Now, some of you boys, I know, are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. They are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood. Shoot them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face, you'll know what to do. Now there's another thing I want you to remember: I don't want to get any messages saying that we are holding our position. We're not holding anything. Let them do that. We are advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy. We're going to hold onto him by the nose and we're going to kick him in the ass. We're going to kick the hell out of him all the time and we're going to go through him like crap through a goose. Now, there's one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home. And you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now when you’re sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee, and he asks you: "What did you do in the great Grizz struggle of 08?" You won't have to say, "Well, I shoveled shit in Louisiana." Alright, now you sons-of-bitches, you know how I feel. Oh... I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle anytime, anywhere.

His name might have been George. Or Lee, even. There's a very good chance that Lou might have said that to me, like i said i was drunk. The next man's speech drove the crowd in the stands into a frenzy the likes of which i havent seen since 2 for 1 night at the Man Hole bar.

Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no! And it ain't over now. 'Cause when the goin' gets tough...the tough get goin'! Who's with me? What the fuck happened to the Grizz I used to know? Where's the spirit? Where's the guts, huh? This could be the greatest night of our lives, but you're gonna let it be the worst! "Ooh, we're afraid to go with you Bluto, we might get in trouble." Well, just kiss my ass from now on! Not me! I'm not gonna take this! Manny, he's a dead man! Ethier, dead! Loney-

And the crowd as one yelled "Dead!" I think it may have helped that the next man to take the lead in igniting the crowd was an old man named Han. He seemed very wise in his simple statement:

Let him have the ball. It's not wise to upset a Grizzlie. A Dodger don't pull people's arms out of their sockets when they lose. Lilly's been known to do that.

The next man was in fact even older. But his statements had a ring to them of a man who knew what things were like as a Grizzlie. He seemed to come from a time before, when the Grizzlies were still known as the Cubs, and they had two teams in Chicago! Two!

You wanna get Torre? Here's how you get him. He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the bench, you send one of his to the morgue! That's the Chicago way, and that's how you get Torre!

But i think things were summed up best by the last man i can remember speaking before i passed out in the stands.

Good morning. In less than a day, Grizzlies from here will join others from around the world, and you will be launching the largest battle in the history of Grizzkind. Grizzkind. That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that tomorrow is the Fourth of October, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom… Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution… but from annihilation. We're fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of October will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the Grizz declared in one voice: We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Chicago Grizzlies!