Despite several deadlines, lack of sleep, and the constant temptation of both The Two Coreys and Scott Baio is 45 and Single, I have decided to make next week about one thing only - witnessing baseball history at its most tainted. In the next four days, I am prepared to go to FOUR games in a row... a first for me. Most likely a last too. I've already got my tix for Tuesday night and Friday. True, my seats are layers of crappy and my budget will barely survive the eight dollar beers, four dollar malts, and generous one dollar tips. But it's something I can tell my kids about many years from now - "You see that inhuman skull in the Smithsonian? That used to belong to one of the most exciting players in the 90s, who one day transformed into The Juggernaut."
Most of us (except for SoSG contributors) don't really get to write history. But occasionally, we are lucky enough to watch it unfold. Such is the case with the long strange trip that is Barry Bonds. Not sure if I will boo, cheer, throw my half-eaten malt onto the field... or just sit back and watch the frenzy of 50,000 fans.
Then again, fate may decide to play a nasty trick on me, causing Bonds to hit 755 and 756 on Saturday while I'm watching Gulliver's Travels at the Actor's Theater in LA.
To me, the three-camera sitcom never recovered after Cheers left the air (though How I Met Your Mother is totally legit), and the modern slugger was never the same after Mike Schmidt retired. Since I can't go back to watch Michael Jack's crushing balls all over Veteran's Stadium, 755* and 756* will just have to fill the void. Until it's Stray-Rod's turn to make history*!