Why I like Mark Bellhorn.
Yes, I understand that he strikes out a lot of the time - many times without even taking the bat off his shoulder. And he sometimes makes errors that make you want to grab the nearest baby and shake it. (Like whenever he wasted a perfectly good Manny throw to let whatever scumbag Yankee it was get on second base last Sunday.) And I had to put my own wallet in my mouth to keep from strangling on my own tongue during that short span of time when he was playing third base. But in spite of all that, even though he'll probably never bat .300, for some reason, humble little Mark Bellhorn is one of my favorite 2004 Red Sox.
For one thing, I have a soft spot in my heart for the regular guys that just put their heads down and play hard and with a lot of sincerity, you know - the Trot Nixons and Bill Muellers of the world. They may not be the most talented ballplayers in the world, they may not be especially easy on the eyes, but they give you everything they've got. I think Bellhorn definitely falls into this category. I like the underdogs.
And hey, he leads the AL in walks. (Unless he's been overtaken by Frank Thomas.) He can hit for power. He's shown flashes of being clutch. And he just seems like a goddamn decent guy, even though he sometimes has a sort of glazed, heroin-nod sort of look on his face that kind of makes you think you might be able to bounce a brick off his cranium without really disturbing him too much. I like how he wears his socks high. I like his Fisher Price "My First Batting Gloves and Cleats" set he uses. I like his designer beard stubble that gives you the temporary impression that he might be a scary Floridian meth addicted truck driver until you look closer and realize that it's just the way he grooms himself. And I like how no matter what he does in the course of a ball game, you never see him change his facial expression. Ever. His entertainment value to me is quite high.
So Mr. Bellhorn, I don't care what everyone else says, you're alright with me, kiddo. I'd party with Mark any day of the week.
In other news - while Pedro didn't exactly say that he was out of the woods on his hip injury thingy, he sounded sure that he will be making his next start, which would keep me from laying in bed staring up at the ceiling and imagining new and improved ways for Terry Francona to get hit by a bus for at least one night. And while Pedro looks kind of cute in those baggy pants he's been pitching in lately - sort of like a little kid wearing pajamas or wearing one of his father's suits - I wish he'd go back to the skin tight ones. I mean, that's just bonus - I get to watch Pedro pitch, AND I get to watch his wonderful, tight posterior in various acrobatic movements as captured by my friend the centerfield camera.
Sox game got rained out last night, which is actually kind of cool since they were losing 4-2. Apparently Wakey is still bothered by that line drive that drilled him in the back of the shoulder a week and a half ago. Deep bruising around the scapula. Ugh.
Alright, I'm headed down to the ballpark for the 7:05 Cards/Reds game. Adios. Go Sox!