Sentimental Ballplayers
New York Mets catcher Mike Piazza is 36 years old. Except for one failed experiment to move him to first base, he's spent his entire career as a catcher, the most physically demanding and brutal position on the field. Mikey's at the All-Star Game tonight for what might be the final time, as there's no denying that the man's starting to wear out. While enjoying the festivities he got to waxing poetic about the All-Star Games of years past, about the last time the National League won the game (in 1996, when Piazza was named MVP), about his first trip to the game in 1993, and his first as a Met in 1998. He says he feels like the old guy at the bar. So he's even playing drunk.
Mikey's getting all sentimental in his old age.
Up walks Paul Lo Duca, catcher for the Florida Marlins, looking for an opportunity to give a sound-byte. When asked about Piazza and his legacy, Paul stared off in space for a moment, considering.
"To me, he's arguably the best-hitting catcher of all-time."
So while Paul argues with himself about Piazza's place in history, I'd just like to thank Mike, as the monster will soon be crawling back into his cage for that final nap.
Labels: baseball


2 Comments:
Mike Piazza is the yin and the yang: The great ballplayer and vocal Bush supporter... The walking embodiment of testosterone with bleached hair and a Village People mustache... The big, strong catcher, he of the tape-measure dingers, and the guy who wimped out and didn't shove the broken bat down Roger Clemens' amphetimine-fueled throat... God bless you, Mike P.
One of my favorite moments in Mets history was when Mike had to tell the press he wasn't gay. Now, of course, he's married to the Playboy Playmate of the Millennium. As Bababooey once pined, "Does this guy have to overachieve at everything?"
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