In recent days, there have been, in this humble online journalist's opinion, some laugh-out-loud comments made by the commenters on this fine Journal of Baseball Wisdom, and an uptick, I dare say, in dark humor as well. This uptick is the result a season like no other, the kind which tries one's wits.
Like it or not, my friends, some of us have become the sports equivalent of hopeless and whiskered old Russian ladies named Elena or Bushka, attempting jokes to pass the time while standing in the bread lines, circa 1985, before the Berlin Wall tumbled. Our stomachs are growling, we haven't had a decent meal in months, and the only thing left to do is crack a joke in the face of hopelessness. Or try to. And let's face it, there is a lot of material with these 2009 Royals.
This is all context for a taut little blurb concerning the Royals that I read in the Sports edition of our local daily this a.m., and which couldn't, quite frankly, be a more apt example of the basic incompetence that has become a part of the Royals' DNA:
The Royals will give out a figurine at today’s game, this one honoring George Brett. But the wording on the boxes has him as a second baseman.
Yeah, that would definitely qualify for an "oops", one that the stars at the Star do not even feel the need to explain. Before I was kicked out of law school, they taught me a name for this sort of thing: it's called res ipsa loquiter, i.e., the thing speaks for itself.
But just in case it doesn't, allow me to explain: the Royals have been riding George Brett like an old Appaloosa pony for about 25 years in this town. George has been ridden so hard he has a swayed-back and carries a salt block in his fanny pack. He even occasionally tilts to the right when he walks (there may be other reasons for this latter issue), and there has been talk of renting him out at the Plaza for those Mullet-headed, spendthrift newlywed-types. Put another way, if it weren't for George Brett (and Runelyvs Hernandez), there would be no good news to talk about with this organization for the past quarter century. And yet, even in light of all of this, the Brett "figurine" box inaccurately labels him as a second baseman. If you can't get your figurine box right, how can you expect to get the best of Scott Boros?
I am sure if Frank White were still alive he would be rolling around in his grave, or something like that.
This is seemingly one of those Royals' f---ups too rich even for dark humor (I do mean foulups, for the faint of heart among us...). Nevertheless, one is reminded of the scene in Waiting for Godot, where the character takes off his belt to hang himself, and his trousers fall down. It would appear, as one last monumental act of incompetence in this 2009 season, the Royals have once again dropped trou, and for all the world to see.
Makes you wish you were standing in some line in about 1985, doesn't it?