Digging for Headlines
Breaking news you may not find elsewhere: Heard from a reliable anonymous source recently that Pedro Martinez is an avid (if not constant) gardener. Yes, that’s right friends, Number 45 likes to mix it up amongst the tulips and hydrangeas. I don’t know about all of you, but I think this is just fantastic. Picturing Pedro out on the front lawn in a pair of white Keds, sporting a fisherman’s hat and digging around with a mini-spade makes me laugh. It’s great to imagine one of the game’s most intimidating pitchers donning a pair of gardening gloves and checking on his hyacinths.
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-Considering his track record of taking on talent at all costs, disregarding salary and other important implications of his transactions (in this case a potentially serious heart problem), I’m stunned that Isaiah Thomas traded for Eddy Curry. Wait, no I’m not.
-Saw a preview tonight for Tony Scott’s new movie Domino, starring Keira Knightley. Apparently the flick features a group of bank robbers who call themselves “The First Ladies” and wear masks of past presidents’ wives while carrying out their crimes. Pretty cool idea. I think I’m going to write a script for a movie about a group of bank robbers called “The Dead Presidents” who wear masks of past presidents during their robberies. Not sure who I’d cast in it, but I’m thinking Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves would be good choices, and I’m strongly considering calling the film Point Break. Who’s with me?
-ESP-aNnoyance: Okay, I can't fully commit to being annoyed about this because I don't want to be insensitive in case it's some sort of corrective vision thing, but did I happen to catch Stu Scott wearing semi-tinted spectacles during Monday Night Countdown?
-Speaking of football, in the first quarter of Monday night’s Green Bay-Carolina game, Al Michaels referred to
-Non-Sports Interaction of the Day I Feel Compelled to Share: At the
So there I was swiping away – thrice, five times, 10 times. Then, all of a sudden, someone from my right lightly tapped my forearm and said: “Hey man, bring your little ass over here and swipe on this machine. That one’s not working.”
Standing at the turnstile to my right was a man who looked a little bit down on his luck, for lack of a more offensive way of putting it. I mumbled something about losing my fare if I switched to swipe the card elsewhere.
But he adamantly insisted that my card would in fact not work unless I switched, which went against everything I had been taught at
“Try for 10 minutes if you want – it ain’t gonna work,” he said confidently.
Becoming less convicted by the second, I mumbled once again about not wanting to lose my fare.
To this, he responded, “I’m a hustler, a metro-man. If I tell you it’s gonna work, it will.”
Perhaps swayed by the pleasurable juxtaposition of “hustler” and “metro-man” in the same utterance, I decided to make the switch. On my first try swiping at the new turnstile, the “Go” sign lit up. Still a little perplexed by the whole interaction, particularly the fact that my benefactor had felt comfortable enough to address me using the informal “bring your little ass over here” form, I said thanks in the most mildly-irritated tone I could muster.
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