Well as Clint said the blog is now a week old and for this past week I was contemplating about whether or not I should co-write this blog with him. When he mentioned the idea to me all I could think about was a blog he wrote a while ago, and let be frank, it might have been the gayest thing I’ve ever seen. It was like diary of things that he did during the day. He would describe every insignificant detail, like what he ate for breakfast or what he watched on TV at night. No thanks, not for me pal, which explains my delayed arrival. But after reading the first few posts I think I nearly wet myself and the debate was over.
Now that I’m on board let me share a little bit of my background. I’m a CT boy born and raised, and no not the White Trash (WT) part of CT, the area just outside The Big City. As I’m sure you have figured out I am a die hard baseball fan. Make no mistake I am not one of those annoying fans who thinks they know every baseball stat on the face of the Earth and thinks their insight and knowledge is gospel. I have actually played the game, and I don’t mean T-Ball when I was 7, I played into college, in fact Clint and I played at the same school, heck we were roommates.
I am a true Yankees fan meaning, I rooted for them before they dominated the world starting 1996 to the present day, probably around 1990 and 1991. My second favorite team might have to go to the Reds. Clint turned me on to the Reds a while ago. I think what truly did it was when shots were brought to me every time a homerun was hit, and as we know balls fly out of that ballpark like it’s a fucking circus. Talk about a blackout session, who even won that game Clint? Yeah, we have gone to a bunch of games at The Great American Ballpark and we have a blast (when Clint doesn’t get us kicked out). One time when Clint was doing his usual player bashing, this time directed at Brian Jordan. B.J lost it, worse then Jose Mesa, he pointed he bat at Clint threatening him saying “I am gonna to take you out back and beatcha if you don’t get out of here!” After his death threat we were booted from the stadium, the douche never touched us, and we stumbled the closest bar. After that sensitive prick blew up at us we gave him Clint and ours famous “Can’t Hit Your Own Weight” trophy. We will post the full list a little later and you can count on more posts from me.