Baseball is a gentleman’s game, rife with unwritten laws and codes of conduct that make it more than just a sport. These rules are what baseball a noble and hallowed calling, and a nice place to bring the family on a Sunday afternoon or sweaty summer evening to pass the time the way God intended.
You don’t steal bases when you have more than a five-run lead. If you pitch at or hit the opposing team’s pitcher while he’s batting, then you will get the ball fired straight at your most valuable player’s head the next inning. And you don’t steal the other team’s signs when you’re on second base and relay them to your manager. These are just a few examples of the common courtesies that make baseball the great sport it is.
Now I know a lot of you think I’m some dog-killing “notorious asshole,” but I too have a few rules of baseball morality. One of them is “Don’t Fuck With Kids At A Baseball Game,” and it was egregiously broken last week after the Phillies bounced the Braves out of playoff contention.
It was the bottom of the seventh or some inning and the Braves were clinging to a 3-2 lead with Phillies on first and third and one out. The scene was as tense as any for any of the 70 to 85 real baseball fans in Atlanta. The camera then cuts to a young man no older than 10, clad in a Braves jersey and cap, mitt on his left hand, furiously chopping at his digits on his right as tears begin to roll down his face. The camera man stays on this kid as he begins to visibly sob, watching Craig Kimbrel walk the bases loaded and then immediately give up the lead on a Chase Utley sac-fly.
The next morning I check my stupid Facebook page to see if anyone liked my status—”The Kardashians are worthless cock-holsters”—and I notice a screen shot of the crying kid from the night before has been cropped into a black frame with the word “PLAYOFFS” written very large and in all caps. Underneathe it: “You aren’t going.” About half of my “friends” posted this for a good yuck-yuck at this kid’s expense. I wanted to rape a hole in the sky after looking at what some limp-dicked Internet earthworth did with this kid.
Don’t think I don’t like to wallow in the misery of others. Of course I do. But in this case, the target is unacceptable. I hate the fucking Braves and wish nothing but the worst for that team, but make an Internet sensation/humiliation of someone who deserves it: the fat tub-of-shit tomahawk chopping while texting, for instance. Or one of the schlubby land-owning white women sitting behind home plate with a face that looks like a 400-year-old labia.
I know we as a city are as uncouth as they come and wear it as sort of a badge of honor, but this was just too fucked up. I know I’m jumping to conclusions by implying that one of us made this piece of art. It probably wasn’t a Philly fan who made it, but I’ll be fucked if a few of you weren’t enjoying it. I call bullshit on all of you who did.
Because this kid had to watch the one thing he probably loves more than any stupid thing in his meaningless 10-year-old life implode before his very eyes, then he has to get up the next day for school, get into his whatever class with the computer, log into Facebook and see this fucking “meme” with his balling face get the wailing Santorum Youth treatment. He had his birthday cake shat upon by a 10-assholed Wooly Mammoth, and now he has to eat it in front of his entire peer group.
Leave this fucking kid alone. Seriously, if you need to pick on a 10-year-old whose baseball dreams have just been shattered by our impressive baseball team then you need to take a long, hard look at the piece of shit in the mirror. You’re what is making this world as rotten as an apple on the Amistad and as filled with shit as a Veterans Stadium porto-john. You ruin everything else and now you’re trying to fuck up baseball.
You should be ashamed of yourselves. Blow me.
John Sharkey III is a notorious Philadelphia Sensitivity Coach. The views expressed in TBSS are his own.
Now that the turd that was the 2011 Philaldelphia Phillies season has had ample time to settle at the bottom of the outhouse, I think it’s time to give my full Sixpence None the Richer on the whole bullshit situation.