And so ends the final paragraph in Mr. Trump’s first 100 days.
“I loved my previous life. I had so many things going. This is more work than in my previous life. I thought it would be easier.”
I don’t like or trust Mr. Trump and this quote does nothing to change that. I can understand a person saying something like this to his family or to his trusted friends, but to say it to the country and to the world is, to me, just plain silly.
Seriously, does anyone run for president thinking the job will be easy?
Now I’ll back to wondering if Mr. Trump will ever start talking about policies and if, should he do that, he can sound like he knows at least a little bit of what he’s talking about.
To the Minnesota writers who cover Twins baseball: if you want me to continue reading your articles then you’re going to have to come up with something about Byron Buxton that isn’t, “He’s struggling offensively, but he sure is good defensively.” because that reasoning is really boring.
Personally, and not that my thoughts matter for anything, but I blame Buxton’s performance on Twins management. I think the Twins were so desperate for something (something that didn’t involve making a large financial investment in the team’s payroll) that they rushed Buxton through the minors and at 23-years-old he’s simply not ready at this point to be playing in the majors. His minor league record shows that he’s never had a great batting average, and considering he didn’t get the chance to experiment and learn at the lower level, why is there any expectation that his offense would be better at a higher level? This is baseball, not magic.
I feel sorry for Byron Buxton. The Twins needed to divert attention away from their unwillingness to pursue quality free agent players so they grabbed Buxton and threw him out there.
“Here you go, kid: The Bigs. Now shine.”
“I don’t know how to do that. How do I shine?”
“Eh, don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”
“Can you teach me?”
“No time, you’re up. Go go get ’em, kid.”
I think the best thing the media can do is to not write about Buxton at all. The guy is meeting every day with the manager and the bench coach and the hitting coach and then he’s talking to his teammates – and don’t think he’s not reading the paper and the news – and he’s simply overwhelmed.
Everyone says that baseball is a game and it’s time for Twins sportswriters and management to realize that and let him simply play the game. Preferably – for his sake, I think – that would be in AAA Rochester where he can actually “play”, but if it’s here, then so be it. Just stand back and let him do what he does in his own time. Baseball is difficult but it’s not rocket science and eventually he’s going to figure it out and while the reality is that he probably needed a full season at AAA, considering he’s not going to get that, the last thing he needs is to live his 2017 baseball life being examined under a microscope.
Waiting for Byron Buxton to finally arrive in the majors is almost as painfully slow and boring as waiting for Godot.
Anyway . . .
This is for Byron Buxton fans. Or for anyone who likes torturing themselves.
“The problem isn’t just a heavy dose of breaking or off-speed stuff, either; at this point, pitchers are just blowing fastballs right by him. And while it’s too early to overreact to a week’s worth of action, the Twins have to be worried that so far, Buxton’s approach has been a complete mess…” – Jon Tayler, Sports Illustrated, 04/12/2017
For Jon’s complete column please click HERE.
I’m not sure where Twins coaches are through all of this, or where they’ve been for the last year or so, but my guess is that they’re there and they’ve tried and Buxton listens and nods and tries but he just can’t adjust. Translation: head case.
As long as the only enjoyable thing a Twins fan can do during the season is dream about the future, it’s time to start focusing on shortstop Nick Gordon. Nick Gordon is the shortstop of the future and after a week at Class AA Chattanooga he’s hitting .320/.357/.797 with one homer. His dad is Tom Gordon, an All Star who was a Rookie of the Year runner-up in 1989 and pitched in the majors for over 20 years, and his brother is All Star infielder Dee Gordon. While a player’s bloodline ultimately means little, I’m not going to rule out genetics as a potential plus so the future holds promise.
RIP Robert Osborne
I loved watching him almost as much as I did the movies he introduced. I feel lucky that I was able to listen to, and benefit from, his knowledge and insight about movies.
Every Thursday evening at about 8:01 I ask myself why I’m still watching Grey’s Anatomy. I turn off the television and I say to myself, “Michael, why are you still watching Grey’s Anatomy?” I think about that question and I realize I don’t have a good answer for myself. In addition to that, I think – for the 14th time this season – that I dislike most of the current cast. Bailey was never one of my favorites, but I don’t like her anymore. I used to like Jo but I don’t like her anymore either. I don’t like DeLuca and I don’t like Riggs and I can’t stand Edwards, Pierce, Murphy, Shepherd, Minnick or Catherine.
“You know what, Michael? I don’t know why I’m still watching.” I answer myself.
“There must be some reason.”
“Well,” I say. “I like the Chief (yes, I still refer to Webber as the “Chief”) a lot. And I like Grey and Karev even though they haven’t been featured very much this year. And Ben and Arizona are OK.”
I’m not convinced and I apply the pressure to myself. “That’s it, three characters and two, ‘Meh’?”
“I like Bokhee.”
“Bokhee. She’s that nurse who’s in the operating room a lot.”
“Oh.” I pause wondering how I even know her name. “Does she ever have any lines?”
“I think she’s had a few over the years.”
I’m getting frustrated and feeling confrontational now. ““A few over the years”. So you like only three characters, dislike twice that many, have two that are just ‘Meh’ and one who never has any dialogue or is involved in any storyline? Tell me why you’re still watching.”
I sure know how to push my buttons and I’m feeling the pressure. “Well, I forgot Avery and Hunt and I like them both even though Avery doesn’t do much and they’ve pretty much taken Hunt and turned him from this confident, rugged and flawed character into little more a wimpy milksop. And . . .”
I’m struggling for more.
I see myself struggling and I don’t let myself off that easy. “What about the storylines? The drama?”
“Uh, they’re not so interesting or as much fun as they used to be.”
“And yet you continue to watch. Tell me why you’re still watching.”
“I already asked me that.”
“Well, I didn’t answer myself. Tell me why you’re still watching.”
Before I can answer I ask speak up again. “Wait, who’s Catherine?”
“Jackson’s mom, the Chief’s wife?”
“Oh, Debbie Allen.”
“She was good in Fame.”
“She was great in that movie!”
“I love that movie!”
“Me too. Remember the lunch room scene where they all . . . Wait, let’s get back to Grey’s. You don’t like anyone on the show anymore so tell me why you’re still watching.”
“I’m watching because . . . “
“Because I . . .”
“You don’t have to pressure me so much. I’m trying to tell you why and you keep talking over me. What, now you have nothing to say?”
“I’m keeping quiet so you can answer.”
“So? Tell me why you’re still watching.”
And then it hits me. I look myself in the face and tell myself why I’m still watching. “You know how you had friends years ago back in high school and how over the years you just drifted apart? You all went your own way and started your own lives? Well, even though you’ve grown apart they’re still old friends and you don’t want to lose touch and when you see each other, whenever that is, it feels good; it feels comforting.”
“So it’s just a Thursday night habit?”
“Don’t mock me.”
“Or little more than meatloaf.”
“Don’t mock me!”
“I’m not mocking you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m . . .”
“And you do it a lot.”
“And you do it a lot.”
“Go to bed.”
“I’ll go to be when I’m tired.”
“You’re tired now.”
“How do you know? You’re not me.”
“Yes I am.”
Simple lyrics, a simple melody and a simple philosophy with just a touch of harmonica. I think maybe that’s not such a bad way to live.
I wonder whatever happened to my old Ozark Mountain Daredevil-listening pals. . . All scattered now to parts unknown. Maybe when they listen to the OMD they think of me like I think of them.