Hey friends. I know I haven't written in a while, but something has been irking me lately.
I was walking down the street and counting my steps between cracks in the pavement because I inherently prefer them to be an even number when I remembered something: That behavior is obsessive-compulsive.
While I do think that the behavior of people with OCD is fascinating, and to some degree completely mesmerizing, it's got nothing to do with what I want to call to attention here.
A ton of people have obsessive compulsive traits, whether it's hand-washing, putting on clothing in a certain order, or refusing to walk out a different door that you walked in (I think there's a silly sex joke in here somewhere, I'm just not gonna go for it right now), and all these things are fine by me.
But here's what gets me.
Some of you assholes will compulsively do something in front of me and then apologize and say "Ugh, sorry, I'm really OCD."
No you're not.
You are not Obsessive-compulsive Disorder.
You may have tendencies relating to it or have symptoms of the disorder, but you are not a disorder.
Stop being dumb.
Learn to use words.
Of course, maybe this is all a compulsion of mine, but if you take issue with that, kindly shut up.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Monday, December 27, 2010
Dicey Subject
I am apparently really bad at keeping on topic with my other blog. That is to say, I'm bad at keeping it as a blog that documents my life as it pertains to trying to break into the world of comedy, acting, and/or entertaining. I think it's got a bigger audience than this one (twice the number of Blogger.com followers as this one...both in single digits. Baller-status), so I tend to write things in there that belong in this blog. This one is supposed to be my musings on life. So that's what this is gonna be.
I read an article last week, sent to me by my friend Jen (over at http://jenniterjackon.wordpress.com) and written by Ricky Gervais about how he doesn't believe in God. Not a matter of not believing, but more matter-of-factly stating that there isn't a god. I'll get back to this in a moment.
Upon leaving home after Christmas I brought a few books back with me, two of which are nonfiction short-story collections from college. One of which has a couple written by a professor I had, but that's not the point. The point is that I just picked a random story and read it. It was basically about the writer abandoning faith in religion and how it crushed her mother but made her feel a better understanding of the world.
It's pretty clear that religion has a huge hold on American society, as well as it does the rest of the world. I'm not interested in debating the merits of religion, those of you who know me know that I'm not a church-goer and don't really care either way if you are, so don't bother thinking about that.
Instead, think about how many articles and books you've heard of in the realm of popular writing, whatever that means to you. A decent amount of books, it can be argued, are either straightforward books about religion (see: the always-massive religion section at bookstores) or thinly veiled books about religion (see: Narnia and the like). Religious writing is generally a big deal; if it is well written, it becomes an important piece of religious literature (again, go to the religion section and look at how they've all won awards).
So on the flip side, why is it always note-worthy when someone writes about a disbelief in God/religion?
I don't have an answer for this but it's endlessly fascinating. Some of the greatest minds in our world right now do not believe in a god or gods. When they write about it, it's gripping. Is it possible that, if they wrote it well-enough, someone could write a novel where the entire point is that there is no god, and this becomes a best-seller - changing the way a reading population views religion?
It's surely been tried, make no mistake of that, but is it possible in a society that is so dependent on religion?
Makes you wonder, right?
Note: I've mentioned before that I have something in mind when I start writing and invariably end up off-topic. This was on-topic, but oh my god...I can't believe how far awry this idea went. I had some really poignant things that I wanted to put in here and virtually none of them made it and now I can't make room for them/remember what they were. Curse you, writing.
I read an article last week, sent to me by my friend Jen (over at http://jenniterjackon.wordpress.com) and written by Ricky Gervais about how he doesn't believe in God. Not a matter of not believing, but more matter-of-factly stating that there isn't a god. I'll get back to this in a moment.
Upon leaving home after Christmas I brought a few books back with me, two of which are nonfiction short-story collections from college. One of which has a couple written by a professor I had, but that's not the point. The point is that I just picked a random story and read it. It was basically about the writer abandoning faith in religion and how it crushed her mother but made her feel a better understanding of the world.
It's pretty clear that religion has a huge hold on American society, as well as it does the rest of the world. I'm not interested in debating the merits of religion, those of you who know me know that I'm not a church-goer and don't really care either way if you are, so don't bother thinking about that.
Instead, think about how many articles and books you've heard of in the realm of popular writing, whatever that means to you. A decent amount of books, it can be argued, are either straightforward books about religion (see: the always-massive religion section at bookstores) or thinly veiled books about religion (see: Narnia and the like). Religious writing is generally a big deal; if it is well written, it becomes an important piece of religious literature (again, go to the religion section and look at how they've all won awards).
So on the flip side, why is it always note-worthy when someone writes about a disbelief in God/religion?
I don't have an answer for this but it's endlessly fascinating. Some of the greatest minds in our world right now do not believe in a god or gods. When they write about it, it's gripping. Is it possible that, if they wrote it well-enough, someone could write a novel where the entire point is that there is no god, and this becomes a best-seller - changing the way a reading population views religion?
It's surely been tried, make no mistake of that, but is it possible in a society that is so dependent on religion?
Makes you wonder, right?
Note: I've mentioned before that I have something in mind when I start writing and invariably end up off-topic. This was on-topic, but oh my god...I can't believe how far awry this idea went. I had some really poignant things that I wanted to put in here and virtually none of them made it and now I can't make room for them/remember what they were. Curse you, writing.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Twitter(o) Killed the Blog(eo) Star
How weird is it to title a blog post after something that is effectively eliminating my post frequency? (not to mention reaching really hard for a Buggles reference)
On a scale of 1-this picture, it's solidly in the Ricky Williams wearing a wedding dress range.
But how did this happen? I originally resisted Twitter...what changed?
Shaq came to Cleveland. That's what changed.
I got on Twitter because I had heard that Shaq would do silly things like give out tickets to fans who found him based on his tweets. I heard he did this kind of thing on a semi-regular basis and I thought it was awesome. Once he was traded to the Cavaliers, I caved. I wanted the chance to be a part of that kind of tomfoolery.
Something happened in the months that followed...I started enjoying the process of tweeting.
It becomes a challenge for me to try to not say incredibly mundane things - or at least not most of the time. I try to be entertaining, although I try to do so without copying anyone else's jokes/style/premises.
As a result of all this, I now tweet a veritable crapload of times per day (I'm guessing close to 10, I don't want to look and find out it's way more than that) about things that I hope other people find interesting. This has killed my blogging.
After spending my entire life being overly wordy and descriptive about everything, Twitter has afforded me the challenge of trying to condense my thoughts into 140 characters despite my habit of using roughly 140 characters in a standard sentence...I've never been a fan of that subject/verb/object/punctuation simplistic bullshit.
I guess the point I'm trying to make is that Twitter is a new release for my random thoughts. Instead of expounding on them in a blog entry, I've taken to shrinking them for tweets. It's not good or bad, it just is at this point.
As it stands, Twitter is the sexy mistress to my mildly attractive blog-wife. It's the Sandra Bullock to my tattooed wench.
Wait, what? He was married to Sandra Bullock and banged that fuh-reak?? Is he retarded?? Am I missing something here? Cheated on her (who looks good in nothing-special-about-that-picture pictures) with her. That's a real picture, folks. Seriously, even if you don't click any of the other links here, do that one. It's eye-opening.
Now that, my friends, makes you wonder...
On a scale of 1-this picture, it's solidly in the Ricky Williams wearing a wedding dress range.
But how did this happen? I originally resisted Twitter...what changed?
Shaq came to Cleveland. That's what changed.
I got on Twitter because I had heard that Shaq would do silly things like give out tickets to fans who found him based on his tweets. I heard he did this kind of thing on a semi-regular basis and I thought it was awesome. Once he was traded to the Cavaliers, I caved. I wanted the chance to be a part of that kind of tomfoolery.
Something happened in the months that followed...I started enjoying the process of tweeting.
It becomes a challenge for me to try to not say incredibly mundane things - or at least not most of the time. I try to be entertaining, although I try to do so without copying anyone else's jokes/style/premises.
As a result of all this, I now tweet a veritable crapload of times per day (I'm guessing close to 10, I don't want to look and find out it's way more than that) about things that I hope other people find interesting. This has killed my blogging.
After spending my entire life being overly wordy and descriptive about everything, Twitter has afforded me the challenge of trying to condense my thoughts into 140 characters despite my habit of using roughly 140 characters in a standard sentence...I've never been a fan of that subject/verb/object/punctuation simplistic bullshit.
I guess the point I'm trying to make is that Twitter is a new release for my random thoughts. Instead of expounding on them in a blog entry, I've taken to shrinking them for tweets. It's not good or bad, it just is at this point.
As it stands, Twitter is the sexy mistress to my mildly attractive blog-wife. It's the Sandra Bullock to my tattooed wench.
Wait, what? He was married to Sandra Bullock and banged that fuh-reak?? Is he retarded?? Am I missing something here? Cheated on her (who looks good in nothing-special-about-that-picture pictures) with her. That's a real picture, folks. Seriously, even if you don't click any of the other links here, do that one. It's eye-opening.
Now that, my friends, makes you wonder...
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
A Moment Like This
Anytime you can title a blog-post with a Kelly Clarkson song title, it's a good sign. Bonus points when it's actually what you're writing about, too.
The concept is the perfect moment; have you had one?
You might not remember if you have. You might remember having it, but you might not remember who else was involved. You might even remember the situation and how good it felt, but the details are all fuzzy.
Here's my quick explanation of a fictional perfect moment. (please note, fictional)
It's been a bad day. I slept awfully and had to wake up early for something that I didn't want to do. I spent the day with a crippling headache while dealing with problems that were way over my head. Blah blah blah, a bad day.
Then, by chance, I see a girl who is a very good friend.
She walks right up to me and doesn't say hello. She looks at me as she's walking and says "You look like you could use a hug," and proceeds to give the best hug ever.
In the five seconds of hug, all of the problems somehow melt away. Nothing seems important, it just feels incredible to be held by someone and know that they're not letting go until I let go. It's comforting, it's emotionally relieving, it's beautiful. As my mind races a million miles an hour I realize that I'm not in love with the girl, I'm in love with the moment she has provided me.
In this one simple moment that may have meant absolutely nothing to her, my entire mood, day, and emotional stability changed for the better.
How?
...makes you wonder, right?
Also, it doesn't necessarily have to be a hug, that would just be one of the best ways for me to experience it. Another easy way that this moment could happen would be like a commercial: someone inexplicably and unprompted does something nice for you - gives a compliment when you didn't expect it, picks up your tab at dinner, etc.
Incidentally, I remember that happening once a long time ago. I remember someone explaining this concept to me (not quite as wordy or in-depth) even before that, and then thinking about it when I first experienced it. I also know that it has happened at least one other time, but I can't remember what it was...which is odd. It's very thought-provoking in concept and in practice.
The concept is the perfect moment; have you had one?
You might not remember if you have. You might remember having it, but you might not remember who else was involved. You might even remember the situation and how good it felt, but the details are all fuzzy.
Here's my quick explanation of a fictional perfect moment. (please note, fictional)
It's been a bad day. I slept awfully and had to wake up early for something that I didn't want to do. I spent the day with a crippling headache while dealing with problems that were way over my head. Blah blah blah, a bad day.
Then, by chance, I see a girl who is a very good friend.
She walks right up to me and doesn't say hello. She looks at me as she's walking and says "You look like you could use a hug," and proceeds to give the best hug ever.
In the five seconds of hug, all of the problems somehow melt away. Nothing seems important, it just feels incredible to be held by someone and know that they're not letting go until I let go. It's comforting, it's emotionally relieving, it's beautiful. As my mind races a million miles an hour I realize that I'm not in love with the girl, I'm in love with the moment she has provided me.
In this one simple moment that may have meant absolutely nothing to her, my entire mood, day, and emotional stability changed for the better.
How?
...makes you wonder, right?
Also, it doesn't necessarily have to be a hug, that would just be one of the best ways for me to experience it. Another easy way that this moment could happen would be like a commercial: someone inexplicably and unprompted does something nice for you - gives a compliment when you didn't expect it, picks up your tab at dinner, etc.
Incidentally, I remember that happening once a long time ago. I remember someone explaining this concept to me (not quite as wordy or in-depth) even before that, and then thinking about it when I first experienced it. I also know that it has happened at least one other time, but I can't remember what it was...which is odd. It's very thought-provoking in concept and in practice.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
I feel like writing
So don't bother trying to stop me.
I've been thinking about life a lot lately, partly because I don't have a job. By partly, of course, I mean mostly.
Anyway, I've seen some people lately that I hadn't seen in a while, people from various walks of life. Family, friends, siblings of friends, friends of siblings, and so on.
What strikes me is that it's a strange feeling when you realize that you think of someone in a different way than they think of you. For instance, if you were dumped and refuse to accept it, it's a very different relationship from the two sides. If you broke up with someone, but both understood the situation, then that's fine. It's the same situation, but when the points of view are skewed from a central theme, things get screwy.
Recently I ran into someone who I haven't actually talked to in a couple of years. He's a good kid, and will remain completely anonymous throughout this, and I hope neither of the 2 of you who read this will waste much time trying to figure out who it is (there are a couple people who fit the mold, so it's not worth agonizing over). I spoke with him not too long ago. I realized during our conversation that I felt like he had taken a younger-brother role in my life - I have no younger brothers, so it's logical for me - but it seemed pretty clear that he saw me somewhat differently. I'm not sure it was just as a friend, or if it was as someone from his past who he thought fondly of but didn't care much about, or if it was as a family friend...but I am pretty darn sure that he did not think of me as an older brother figure.
I'm not broken up about this incident. I'm not pouting about it or anything of that sort.
But for some reason it has stuck with me and made me wonder how people evaluate relationships through different lenses (so to speak).
It's not the same as liking someone who dislikes you - that's often a lack of communication or the lack of wanting to tell someone off. It's just a strange feeling: we've had the same experiences with each other, but the interactions seem to have had a more profound effect on me than they have on him.
The funny thing is that I'd love to pull him aside and explain all of this, but I don't think it would work on account of: A) not knowing if/when we'll cross paths again, 2) it wouldn't make a lot of sense to him, especially if my hunch regarding his emotions was accurate, and C) let's say he suddenly gets it and breaks down into tears...then what? Perhaps it would turn out really well, perhaps not.
I don't know how all this sounds, but I sort of don't really care. I just wonder about it in general...which ties into the title of this blog.
That thought didn't run quite as long as I expected, but that's OK. I was also thinking about mortality a bit earlier; partly due to the cancer scare my grandfather just had, and partly due to the fact that life and death are kind of a hand-in-hand thing...think about one and you'll inevitably think about the other.
As the saying goes; it's a simple choice...get busy living, or get busy dying.
What will you make of the one wild and precious life you've been given?
You only get one shot at it.
Just stop and think about that for a few minutes.
It is wild. It is precious. Think about the incredible things that have happened to you today. As simple as waking up and seeing the rain fall down today...there are people who can't do that. What you experience on a crappy day could be the most incredible experience of someone else's life.
I'm in a very "don't forget how lucky you are" mood.
I want to get up in front of a crowd and tell people this.
This is part of why I want to be famous. Imagine if a simple lesson like this were read by more than just the 10 or 15 people I might be able to sucker into reading this. What if I had 3,000,000 followers on Twitter and 10% of them read this? Of those 10%, if 1% of those read it and thought "wow...I'm lucky. Life is good. I want to share the literal or metaphorical wealth I've been given with someone," then I'd be thrilled.
But I have a small audience. For now.
Two special shout-outs at the end of this post. First is Lou Cirino, I know you google your name now and then, and this post is partially on account of you. I was thinking about this kind of stuff before you let me borrow "The Winners Manual," and now that I'm reading it, it's just making me want to sit down and write these things. So that's what I'm doing.
Second is tricky: I'm calling myself out. Not a shout-out, per se. I'm calling myself out to get the ball rolling a little faster. I need to stop accepting it if something doesn't go my way. I need to better myself. I can control that. It's not that hard.
Can I just please be famous already?
Someone hire me for a motivational speech.
Especially if you throw out the beginning half of this post.
I'm done now.
I've been thinking about life a lot lately, partly because I don't have a job. By partly, of course, I mean mostly.
Anyway, I've seen some people lately that I hadn't seen in a while, people from various walks of life. Family, friends, siblings of friends, friends of siblings, and so on.
What strikes me is that it's a strange feeling when you realize that you think of someone in a different way than they think of you. For instance, if you were dumped and refuse to accept it, it's a very different relationship from the two sides. If you broke up with someone, but both understood the situation, then that's fine. It's the same situation, but when the points of view are skewed from a central theme, things get screwy.
Recently I ran into someone who I haven't actually talked to in a couple of years. He's a good kid, and will remain completely anonymous throughout this, and I hope neither of the 2 of you who read this will waste much time trying to figure out who it is (there are a couple people who fit the mold, so it's not worth agonizing over). I spoke with him not too long ago. I realized during our conversation that I felt like he had taken a younger-brother role in my life - I have no younger brothers, so it's logical for me - but it seemed pretty clear that he saw me somewhat differently. I'm not sure it was just as a friend, or if it was as someone from his past who he thought fondly of but didn't care much about, or if it was as a family friend...but I am pretty darn sure that he did not think of me as an older brother figure.
I'm not broken up about this incident. I'm not pouting about it or anything of that sort.
But for some reason it has stuck with me and made me wonder how people evaluate relationships through different lenses (so to speak).
It's not the same as liking someone who dislikes you - that's often a lack of communication or the lack of wanting to tell someone off. It's just a strange feeling: we've had the same experiences with each other, but the interactions seem to have had a more profound effect on me than they have on him.
The funny thing is that I'd love to pull him aside and explain all of this, but I don't think it would work on account of: A) not knowing if/when we'll cross paths again, 2) it wouldn't make a lot of sense to him, especially if my hunch regarding his emotions was accurate, and C) let's say he suddenly gets it and breaks down into tears...then what? Perhaps it would turn out really well, perhaps not.
I don't know how all this sounds, but I sort of don't really care. I just wonder about it in general...which ties into the title of this blog.
That thought didn't run quite as long as I expected, but that's OK. I was also thinking about mortality a bit earlier; partly due to the cancer scare my grandfather just had, and partly due to the fact that life and death are kind of a hand-in-hand thing...think about one and you'll inevitably think about the other.
As the saying goes; it's a simple choice...get busy living, or get busy dying.
What will you make of the one wild and precious life you've been given?
You only get one shot at it.
Just stop and think about that for a few minutes.
It is wild. It is precious. Think about the incredible things that have happened to you today. As simple as waking up and seeing the rain fall down today...there are people who can't do that. What you experience on a crappy day could be the most incredible experience of someone else's life.
I'm in a very "don't forget how lucky you are" mood.
I want to get up in front of a crowd and tell people this.
This is part of why I want to be famous. Imagine if a simple lesson like this were read by more than just the 10 or 15 people I might be able to sucker into reading this. What if I had 3,000,000 followers on Twitter and 10% of them read this? Of those 10%, if 1% of those read it and thought "wow...I'm lucky. Life is good. I want to share the literal or metaphorical wealth I've been given with someone," then I'd be thrilled.
But I have a small audience. For now.
Two special shout-outs at the end of this post. First is Lou Cirino, I know you google your name now and then, and this post is partially on account of you. I was thinking about this kind of stuff before you let me borrow "The Winners Manual," and now that I'm reading it, it's just making me want to sit down and write these things. So that's what I'm doing.
Second is tricky: I'm calling myself out. Not a shout-out, per se. I'm calling myself out to get the ball rolling a little faster. I need to stop accepting it if something doesn't go my way. I need to better myself. I can control that. It's not that hard.
Can I just please be famous already?
Someone hire me for a motivational speech.
Especially if you throw out the beginning half of this post.
I'm done now.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Yep
There are a couple things that I need to get off my chest. The first is a story that I heard on the radio today.
A woman had sex with a man on Friday night. They used a condom. Apparently the condom broke at some point. The woman didn't seem to elaborate much on whether or not the guy got another one or if he just decided to ignore it and keep going. They stop having sex eventually.
The same woman had sex with a different man Saturday. While having sex, the busted condom from the night before FELL OUT OF HER VAGINA. The man stopped and abruptly left. According to the woman, he's interested in forgiving her and has been calling for the last two days.
The radio host had to say "No...there's no way a man will forget having sex with you and having someone else's condom fall out of your vagina. It's not going to happen. Good luck."
There are certain things that words don't really capture...the pure feeling of disgust that man #2 must have felt is one of those things. I imagine he has not been calling her back, and if he has, it's only because he wants to tell the woman that she's what the French call "A huge f'ing tramp."
Thing number two. I heard on the radio that there's a new dating show starting up on Fox (so you know it's classy) where the contestants are regular-person sized instead of incredibly thin/hot like on most reality shows.
I'm OK with loving who you are, I really am. I think I've even blogged on this subject before, but loving who you are does not make it OK to be unhealthy. If you're fat, it's not good for you. I'm sorry. Again, self-confidence is a good thing, but it's a lot easier to be self-confident if you don't look like the offspring of a giant bowling ball and a whale. If you want to embrace your body and love yourself despite your lack of health, you don't have to love yourself for nearly as long.
This country has made a habit of talking about how body images and eating disorders are such a horrible thing, yet we also have the highest rates of obesity in the world...how can that be? An all-or-nothing country, I suppose, but not really in a good way. If you're a girl and you'll never fit into a size 2, that's OK, but it's not OK to be a size 42. Likewise for guys, it's fine to not wear size 30 waist on a pair of jeans, but don't wear size 50 and embrace your life.
I don't really care if this comes off rude, because maybe some unhealthy people need a kick in the ass to realize that it's not OK. If you're loving yourself despite obesity then you're loving your over-worked heart, your clogged arteries, and your increased likelihood of an early death...sounds like a blast!
A woman had sex with a man on Friday night. They used a condom. Apparently the condom broke at some point. The woman didn't seem to elaborate much on whether or not the guy got another one or if he just decided to ignore it and keep going. They stop having sex eventually.
The same woman had sex with a different man Saturday. While having sex, the busted condom from the night before FELL OUT OF HER VAGINA. The man stopped and abruptly left. According to the woman, he's interested in forgiving her and has been calling for the last two days.
The radio host had to say "No...there's no way a man will forget having sex with you and having someone else's condom fall out of your vagina. It's not going to happen. Good luck."
There are certain things that words don't really capture...the pure feeling of disgust that man #2 must have felt is one of those things. I imagine he has not been calling her back, and if he has, it's only because he wants to tell the woman that she's what the French call "A huge f'ing tramp."
Thing number two. I heard on the radio that there's a new dating show starting up on Fox (so you know it's classy) where the contestants are regular-person sized instead of incredibly thin/hot like on most reality shows.
I'm OK with loving who you are, I really am. I think I've even blogged on this subject before, but loving who you are does not make it OK to be unhealthy. If you're fat, it's not good for you. I'm sorry. Again, self-confidence is a good thing, but it's a lot easier to be self-confident if you don't look like the offspring of a giant bowling ball and a whale. If you want to embrace your body and love yourself despite your lack of health, you don't have to love yourself for nearly as long.
This country has made a habit of talking about how body images and eating disorders are such a horrible thing, yet we also have the highest rates of obesity in the world...how can that be? An all-or-nothing country, I suppose, but not really in a good way. If you're a girl and you'll never fit into a size 2, that's OK, but it's not OK to be a size 42. Likewise for guys, it's fine to not wear size 30 waist on a pair of jeans, but don't wear size 50 and embrace your life.
I don't really care if this comes off rude, because maybe some unhealthy people need a kick in the ass to realize that it's not OK. If you're loving yourself despite obesity then you're loving your over-worked heart, your clogged arteries, and your increased likelihood of an early death...sounds like a blast!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Jeter Drops pop-up, Blames Fan
Fenway Park, Boston.
A routine infield pop-up in Wednesday night's Red Sox-Yankees game turned anything but routine as perennial All-Star Derek Jeter camped under the ball.
"I was right under it, I was sure I had it," said Jeter afterward. "But that guy in section 448, upper deck, right field corner...he yelled 'Miss it!' and it totally shook me."
It's common practice at ballparks nationwide for fans to try razzing on opposing fielders in hopes that they misplay the ball, but now we have an answer for if it actually works.
When questioned on the subject, Yankee center fielder Johnny Damon responded "Oh hell yeah! I'd say 95% of the balls I miss are because fans shout out for it when I'm about ready to catch it." He then added, "some skeptical fans claim that it doesn't work, but trust me, it does."
The miscue couldn't have come at a worse time for the Yankees; the bases were loaded for the Sox, who were threatening to break the game open.
Making matters worse for the Bombers was the batter - David Ortiz. Ortiz has been in an extended slump for the course of the season, but perhaps no more.
"It wasn't so much the hit that pulled me out of it, it was actually the guy sitting next to the one who psyched out Jeter...as the pitch was coming in he muttered 'please hit the ball,' so that's what I went for," said the slugger in a postgame interview.
Jeter was also thrown off on every other ball hit to him under similar circumstances. "Yeah, someone seemed to say something every time the ball came to me. And the guy yelling 'whiff' every time I swung the bat definitely contributed to my three strikeouts on 9 pitches."
When asked about his 0-3, 3 strikeout hitting performance, Alex Rodriguez responded "Me? No, I didn't hear anyone say anything, I just accidentally changed my calendar to October."
Suck it, Yankees fans.
A routine infield pop-up in Wednesday night's Red Sox-Yankees game turned anything but routine as perennial All-Star Derek Jeter camped under the ball.
"I was right under it, I was sure I had it," said Jeter afterward. "But that guy in section 448, upper deck, right field corner...he yelled 'Miss it!' and it totally shook me."
It's common practice at ballparks nationwide for fans to try razzing on opposing fielders in hopes that they misplay the ball, but now we have an answer for if it actually works.
When questioned on the subject, Yankee center fielder Johnny Damon responded "Oh hell yeah! I'd say 95% of the balls I miss are because fans shout out for it when I'm about ready to catch it." He then added, "some skeptical fans claim that it doesn't work, but trust me, it does."
The miscue couldn't have come at a worse time for the Yankees; the bases were loaded for the Sox, who were threatening to break the game open.
Making matters worse for the Bombers was the batter - David Ortiz. Ortiz has been in an extended slump for the course of the season, but perhaps no more.
"It wasn't so much the hit that pulled me out of it, it was actually the guy sitting next to the one who psyched out Jeter...as the pitch was coming in he muttered 'please hit the ball,' so that's what I went for," said the slugger in a postgame interview.
Jeter was also thrown off on every other ball hit to him under similar circumstances. "Yeah, someone seemed to say something every time the ball came to me. And the guy yelling 'whiff' every time I swung the bat definitely contributed to my three strikeouts on 9 pitches."
When asked about his 0-3, 3 strikeout hitting performance, Alex Rodriguez responded "Me? No, I didn't hear anyone say anything, I just accidentally changed my calendar to October."
Suck it, Yankees fans.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
