For some reason, when you do a Google Image Search for Eric Hinske, you are rewarded with a picture of adorable puppies. I can only take this to mean that Eric Hinske loves puppies and wants them to be happy. You know what else Eric Hinske loves? Winning baseball games. Hitting triples. Getting RBIs. That whole thing? Loves it, Hinske does. And so I, in turn, love Eric Hinske. And so should you.
We should also love Jacoby Ellsbury. And let me tell you something, in Portland, they LOVE them some Jacoby Ellsbury. They were so proud, they showed his first major league at-bat and his first major league hit on the screen between innings of the game on Saturday night. It was adorable. The entire ballpark went all proud papa including, I’m guessing, Theo who was probably squirreled away in a press box somewhere mumbling something about “that guy knowing how to run the bases, Julio.”
I trust dear Mr. Ellsbury will forgive me if I occasionally refer to him as “Jacob” and forget the extraneous “y.” I’m not turning into Tim McCarver but I suspect that after forcing my brain to accept that “Kason” is a name, my cerebrum can’t take any more of this nonsense. That and I think “Jacoby Ellsbury” sounds like a name that would not be out of a place in a touring production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Perhaps he can elevate the level of between inning entertainment at Fenway and recite soliloquies from various Shakespeare plays to the adoring masses. Better than hot dog races, anyway.
Tonight Matsuzaka-san takes on the mighty Devil Rays. Evidently, so much do we enjoy the Devil Rays that we’ve saved all our games against them until the second half of the season. Freaking spectacular. I look forward to fully half of the remaining season being played on a putt putt course and the “dome” confusing Manny to believe he really has left and joined the circus.
My grandmother has been using MLBTV to watch the Devil Rays games all season (It’s not elder abuse, she’s actually a fan. I know!) and I’m sure she’ll be shit-talking me, no matter the outcome. That’ll be fun. Nothing like being schooled by your 85-year-old grandmother who will actually point and laugh at you when Carl Crawford steals a base against your pitcher. Truly special, that.