Thursday, December 29, 2005

Here and There

by BH's Rumor Central is reporting that former A's, Rockies, and Orioles outfielder Eric Byrnes has agreed to a 1 year, $2.2 million deal with the Arizona Diamondbacks. This of course, is bad news. Not because I think Byrnes is going to help the D-Backs do anything in the NL West, but because he is tough to watch and I'm going to have to watch him for 19 games next season. Since his early days in Oakland, he has gotten a little too excited about things he does on the field. I remember a few years ago in Oakland when, after making a diving catch, Byrnes was so excited that he got up off the Coluseum turf in that extra springy, Byrnesian fashion, and forgot his hat. Idiot. I think it was SonDog who was described Byrnes' style after making a play or hitting a home run or doing anything remotely well as, "like he has had an espresso enema." If you know your good, you don't act surprised when you do good things.

On Monday, I bought season four of Curb Your Enthusiasm. I had been holding out for a while, but couldn't wait any longer. Perhaps my favorite scene comes five minutes in to the first episode when Larry, trying to be cool to an attractive woman, goes on a rant about bowling to which the lady shows obvious disinterent, and Larry ends the conversation with, "Okay, allright. I'm around town."

Finally, I've got a story to tell about backgammon and how it has to do with God's love for me. My friend Phil and I have been pretty hooked on backgammon lately. I have always wanted to play, but it's one of those games where, if you aren't playing with someone who knows how to play, it can be a bit confusing and tough to learn. Phil and I have had a running game going. That is, we've been keeping track of our scores for at least the last thirty games, not really hoping to reach an ultimate conclusion, but just keeping track.

The scene of the greatest moment in history

Phil had been really kicking my butt for a while but since I was worked over in a game against his brother-in-law a few weeks ago, I've been winning games and the score has been getting tighter. On Tuesday, Phil and I sat down for a couple of games. He won the first one, and the second game was coming down to the wire. I had two pieces each on the fifth and sixth point, and Phil had one piece on the second point and one on the third, and it was Phil's roll. Phil rolled a 1 and a 3, which meant he got to bear off the piece on the three, and moved the other piece to the first point. That he didn't win on this role was a fantastic stroke of luck for me. Pretty much, anything other than a role of a 1 would have won him the game. However, the poor sap rolled a 1 and a 3. It was clear to both Phil and I that the only roll that could possibly help me was double sixes. If I rolled anything else, Phil would get another roll, and I would lose the game. Now, Anyone who has seen LOST remembers Walt's trick for rolling good die, which is blowing into the cup that contains the die prior to releasing them. This has sort of been an ongoing joke that Phil and I use. So Phil, knowing that I had to roll double sixes sat across the board from me holding both his middle fingers in my face as I blew away on the die, hoping upon hope that Walt's trick would pay off. This went on for a good forty seconds. When I finally rolled the die, it was like those scenes in movies right before an atomic bomb goes off and everything stops, as if capturing the last moment of life before everything's obliterated. You see the kid on a swing being pushed by his mom, or a lady and a dog running in Central Park, or something like that. Time stopped. Or at least, went slow enough that that I could see every turn of the die on their way to their resting points. When the die finally stopped, they had both come up sixes, allowing me to bear off all four pieces, winning the game. Of course, I didn't immediately move the pieces. The first thing I did was jump up in the air and run around Phil's house like a fully justified maniac. Then I moved the pieces. It made it into my top ten non-sexual life moments, moving in right behind the time I saw Barry Bonds hit a bomb off Chuck Finley to tie game four of the 2002 NLCS and right ahead of my son's birth. Seriously, I will be telling my grandchildren about it.


phil said...

I think the birth of your son is a sexual life moment. I mean, how else did the little bugger get up in there?

Also, calling the Walt thing "an ongoing joke" is taking it a bit far. It is ongoing, though.

bh said...

I guess by "an ongoing joke" I mean, "a thing I do from time to time that I stole from someone else, and it's not really that funny."