Because that's what great writers do: We put into words the often indescribable twinges and longings that you normals refer to as "feelings."
We scour the English language and navigate the depths of human emotion to collect a series of words that, when organized correctly, form a perfect nugget of truth that rolls effortlessly off the tongue and high fives the soul.
Unfortunately, it was no use.
After countless hours and numerous re-writes, it's become clear that no amount of metaphors, no clever combination of catch phrases, no elegant levels of alliteration can adequately express the following idea.
As is so often the case, the best way appears to be the direct approach.
So here goes:
So here goes:
(ahem)
Ken Griffey, Jr. was fucking sweet.
A prodigal son the moment he stepped on the field, Junior had it all: The defensive prowess of Willie Mays, the power and plate discipline of Albert Pujols, and just the prettiest swing you've ever seen.
In his MVP year of 1997, Griffey turned in one of the best regular seasons by someone probably not on steroids, leading the league in homers (56), RBIs (147), runs (125) and slugging percentage (.646).
He's also the namesake of the best baseball video game ever, "Ken Griffey Jr's Slugfest" for the N64.
A cameo in Little Big League and one winning smile later, we have the makings of the greatest player of all time, the Chosen One, the man who would be king.
But it was not meant to be.
The new millennium would not be kind to The Kid, as his career fell apart practically the moment he was traded to Cincinnati in 2000.
Injury after injury robbed Griffey of his prime, and robbed us all of a world where the homerun champion isn't Barry Bonds.
A prodigal son the moment he stepped on the field, Junior had it all: The defensive prowess of Willie Mays, the power and plate discipline of Albert Pujols, and just the prettiest swing you've ever seen.
In his MVP year of 1997, Griffey turned in one of the best regular seasons by someone probably not on steroids, leading the league in homers (56), RBIs (147), runs (125) and slugging percentage (.646).
He's also the namesake of the best baseball video game ever, "Ken Griffey Jr's Slugfest" for the N64.
A cameo in Little Big League and one winning smile later, we have the makings of the greatest player of all time, the Chosen One, the man who would be king.
But it was not meant to be.
The new millennium would not be kind to The Kid, as his career fell apart practically the moment he was traded to Cincinnati in 2000.
Injury after injury robbed Griffey of his prime, and robbed us all of a world where the homerun champion isn't Barry Bonds.
In an alternate universe where bones don't break, muscles don't tear and I know how to talk to women, Griffey has over 800 homeruns, multiple MVP awards and I can't cat sit tonight because I have a date.
Sorry, bro.
The man should be remembered as the best to ever step foot in a batter's box. But instead, he represents a destiny unfulfilled, baseball's ultimate "What might have been."
Which is why I named my fantasy team after him.
Like Griffey, this team I've assembled has the potential to be not just good...not just great...but the single most dominant fake baseball team Yahoo.com has ever seen.
Carlos Gonzalez has that look in his eye. So does Anibal Sanchez.
Buster Posey got a taste of glory last season and is hungry for more.
And Chad Billingsley?
Oh, you best believe he has what it takes.
With the hypothetical G.O.A.T as our inspiration and spiritual leader, we have all the pieces in place: A stacked lineup with power and speed, a deep rotation and a team name that is almost perfect.
Sorry, bro.The man should be remembered as the best to ever step foot in a batter's box. But instead, he represents a destiny unfulfilled, baseball's ultimate "What might have been."
Which is why I named my fantasy team after him.
Like Griffey, this team I've assembled has the potential to be not just good...not just great...but the single most dominant fake baseball team Yahoo.com has ever seen.
Carlos Gonzalez has that look in his eye. So does Anibal Sanchez.
Buster Posey got a taste of glory last season and is hungry for more.
And Chad Billingsley?
Oh, you best believe he has what it takes.
With the hypothetical G.O.A.T as our inspiration and spiritual leader, we have all the pieces in place: A stacked lineup with power and speed, a deep rotation and a team name that is almost perfect.
We just need something more.
A cherry on the fantasy moniker sundae. Something strong and powerful.
Something to make the rest of the league stand up, take notice and make a collective "gulp" noise in an exaggerated, comical manner.
A cherry on the fantasy moniker sundae. Something strong and powerful.
Something to make the rest of the league stand up, take notice and make a collective "gulp" noise in an exaggerated, comical manner.
We need a hadouken.
A what, you say? I'm so glad you asked.
It begins as a spark.
It begins as a spark.
B.J. Upton has it. So does Joel Hanrahan.
Slowly, it starts to grow. A tiny, pulsating ball of energy, it ricochets through your body like a pinball, surging exponentially in strength until it reaches the tips of your fingers.
Building and building in intensity, it explodes from your hands.
A swirling, concentrated fireball of your very own life force, it rips through the universe with the reckless abandon of a drunk-driving senior citizen, destroying everything in its path.
The very fireball that Max Scherzer bullets into the strike zone at 95 MPH.
The same pulsating life force that David Ortiz routinely deposits into the Fenway seats.
We are the fantasy team you deserve, but not the one you need right now.
We are the meteoric spark of life, an unstoppable force of limitless potential, a destroyer of worlds and a defender of truth, justice and the American pastime.
We are Hadouken Griffey Jr....and we will wreck your shit.
2 comments:
I'm sorry. Anibal Sanchez can't even do a hadouken in the game.
Wow Jacob, this is the first time I have ever read any of your blogs...Sorry about that, but this was good stuff.
Post a Comment