Farewell the Bell
I was joking. At least a little.
I mean, I have become intensely fond of Tony G. His glove is smooth, and he bats the body electric.
But it never managed to connect in the weird little synapses of my brain,that baseball rosters are a zero sum equation.
That because of the 'Nino's consistent and solid performance, there would be no space for the Bell.
Over the last months, his bat may have induced violence against furniture more than once.
And the routine of "walk-strikeout-strikout -double-strikeout-HOMERUN!" was mostly reduced to "walk -strikeout"
However, that doesn't mean I won't miss the Bell.
I still stand by what I said in one of the first posts on this blog, many moons ago:
Mark is an aquired taste, like...well, like Indian food. (Yes, that's a really bad analogy, I know.) But once he's won you over, you never really get over him. He's like a stray puppy dog that just sort of shows up one day, you start feeding it, it hangs around and before you know it, you can't imagine life without him.
It hasn't sunk in yet, and it probably won't for a while. But whether he's in Pawtucket, or somewhere else, I wish him well. I'll hear the clang of his Game 1 homer off the foul pole for the rest of my life, and I'll always be grateful.
As for the rest of the week, especially our bullpen, it can be dispensed with in one word:
I would indeed rather have Craig Hansen on the mound then Mike Remlinger. I would rather have a moldy stalk of asparagus on the mound then Mike Remlinger.
String Bean vs. Anti-Magic at 4:00 today. May the Vegetable Mojo continue to ride tall in the saddle.