I love that Heap doesn't even bother to shave when he goes to visit the president. McClassic.

~~

Yesterday morning, at the hotel in D.C. . . .

Schuerholz: John!
Smoltz: Homeboy! What's up?
Schuerholz: I've been invited to have a personal audience with the president this afternoon.
Smoltz: Wow, that's exciting!
Schuerholz: I know, right? Oh, and I'm allowed to bring a few players along. Naturally, you were the first person who came to mind.
Smoltz: Thank you! I'm honored.
Schuerholz: Let's ask a few other guys to join us. I don't want to look like I'm playing favorites, so I'll leave it up to you to invite them.
Smoltz: Okay . . . hmm. I'll have to think about it.
Schuerholz: Just let me know who you decide to ask.

Smoltz knocks on Huddy's door.

Huddy: Hey, Smoltzie, how's it going?
Smoltz: Pretty good, actually! Want to come meet the president with me this afternoon?
Huddy: Ha ha!
Huddy: Wait . . . is that some kind of drug metaphor?
Smoltz: No! I'm serious!
Huddy: Right, right. Where are the cameras?
Huddy: /peers down the hallway in both directions
Huddy: I ain't that gullible, man!
Smoltz: I'm not joking! Homeboy was invited, and he asked me along, and wants me to invite some other guys from the team to join us.
Huddy: Uh-huh, sure. Why don't you go try this on Frenchy? He'll buy it for sure. You'll get some great footage -- where are you hiding the camera?
Smoltz: What camera?? Is it that hard to believe that the president wants to meet some of the Braves?
Huddy: Is it hidden in one of your shirt buttons? Like some James Bond type shit? Hey, you're gonna show me the video of Frenchy's reaction, right?
Smoltz: Ugh -- if you don't believe me, just call Schuerholz. I think I WILL invite Frenchy, and I hope he has a little bit more trust in me!
Huddy: Sure, dude, whatever you say. They gonna air this bit nationally, or just on Sports South?

Smoltz knocks on Frenchy's door.

Frenchy: Hey, John!
Smoltz: Morning, Jeff. I have some pretty exciting news for you.
Frenchy: Ooh, ooh, let me guess!
Smoltz: Um--
Frenchy: Everyone on the Phillies took steriods, and the whole team is disqualified?!
Smoltz: No, Jeff--
Frenchy: EVERYONE ON THE METS?!
Smoltz: It actually doesn't have anything to do with getting to the playoffs.
Frenchy: Oh. Has it got anything to do with my burgeoning singing career?
Smoltz: What are you talking about?! It's about the President of the United States!
Frenchy: Oh. Wait . . . what?
Smoltz: Would you like to meet him?
Frenchy: What?! Really??
Smoltz: Yes, we've been invited to--
Frenchy: CAN HEAP COME??!?
Smoltz: Um. Well, I guess so, I mean--
Frenchy: OH MY GOD!! I'M GONNA GO TELL HIM!!!
Frenchy: /runs down the hall
Smoltz: Hmm.
Smoltz: I may have just made a terrible mistake.

Frenchy pounds on Heap's door

Frenchy: HEAP, WAKE UP!!!! IT'S AN EMERGENCY!!!
Frenchy: A NATIONAL EMERGENCY!!!

Heap opens the door, rubbing his eyes.

Heap: What the hell?
Frenchy: OH MY GOD, DO YOU WANT TO GO TO THE WHITE HOUSE?!?!
Heap: Quit screaming! And no, you made us all go on that stupid tour the first time we came to D.C. for a road trip. I doubt much has changed.
Frenchy: NO I MEAN FOR REAL
Frenchy: LIKE THE PART OF THE WHITE HOUSE THE PRESIDENT IS IN
Heap: If you're talking about trying to break in to the oval office--
Frenchy: No, no, no! We've been invited to talk to the president! Smoltz said so!!
Heap: Are you serious? But why would the president want to meet us?
Frenchy: Um, DUH, Heap! He's obviously a huge Braves fan!!
Heap: Wouldn't he be a Rangers fan, though?
Frenchy: HA HA! As if anyone likes the Rangers! Good one.
Heap: No, really -- didn't he own the Rangers at some point?
Frenchy: Own them?? Doesn't he own ALL the MLB teams? When you really think about it?
Heap: . . . No? Are you high?
Frenchy: It's nine o'clock in the morning! I'm not high, this is for real!
Heap: Alright, man, but I'm having a hard time believing it.
Frenchy: Heap, have I ever lied to you?
Heap: No, but you've definitely told me things that you thought were true which turned out to be . . . less than valid.
Frenchy: This is not like that time Kelly burned popcorn and I thought the house was on fire! I'm talking about the president of our country! I don't fool around about stuff like this!
Heap: Okay, okay. Well, what should I wear?
Frenchy: NOT the shoes you wore when we met that senator.
Heap: You're never going to let me forget that, are you?
Frenchy: Probably not.

~~

The story about needing "pitchers" really cracked me up. But where is the picture that was taken?! Also, thanks to Lauren for reminding me that the picture with Isakson exists. As I told her, when I saw it last year, Heap's shoes were the first thing I noticed, no exaggeration.

I'm sorry that I haven't posted on here in awhile -- I was away from the internet all of Labor Day weekend, then I got sick, and I just started a new full time job this week. Add in an hour of commuting (at least) and that leaves me about ten minutes to fool around online when I get home, before the game comes on at seven. I'll work out my schedule eventually, but right now I'm a little overwhelmed and strapped for time (we're also trying to buy a house and move before the middle of October, just for added fun).

Admittedly, there hasn't been much worth writing about -- but I couldn't let the Dynamic Duo's visit to the White House pass by without my commentary.

I sat down to watch the game last night, and toward the end of her "Clubhouse Report" (we were laughing last night about the jaunty font they use for "Clubhouse," like the Braves' clubhouse is a tree fort that has a misspelled NO GIRLS ALLOWED!! sign tacked onto the door), OKT mentioned that Devy had been sent down. I was immediately furious, and then she revealed who came up to take his roster spot. I ranted for about thirty minutes. My dinner got cold. Good game, though.

~~

May 22, 2007

Devy walks into the Braves clubhouse with a brand new suitcase, grinning from ear to ear.

Heap: Heyyyy! Joey! How are you, man?
Devy: I'm great! After everything I went through in 2005, it feels good to have my confidence back.
Heap: Yeah, I'm really happy for you. You did well after your September call up last season -- and hey, aren't you leading the Southern League in saves?
Devy: Heh, yep!
Heap: That's awesome, Joey. I'll look forward to catching you.
Devy: Aww, thanks!

May 23, 2007

Devy: /sits nervously in the bullpen
Eddie: /sings Ave Maria
Devy: /scoots away

May 24, 2007

Devy: Well, another day in a major league bullpen! Maybe I'll get to pitch tonight.
Wicky: Hey.
Devy: Hi! My name is --
Wicky: You gonna eat that?
Devy: /looks down
Devy: Um . . . eat . . . what? My glove?
Wicky: Oh. I thought it was one of those jumbo soft pretzels for a second.

May 25, 2007

Devy: Man, it was so great to be here to see Smoltz get his 200th win.
Heap: Yeah, what an awesome game! C'mon, let's go drink some champagne with everyone.
Devy: Okay!
Bobby: Hold on a second there, son.
Devy: Me?
Bobby: Yeah, you. Here's your ticket home.
Devy: "Home"?
Bobby: Yeah, you know, the minors. Thanks for the - eh, whatever you did for the past three days.

Heap: Aw, Joey, that's too bad.
Devy: Well, it's okay. I figured they would send me back pretty soon -- I just thought I'd get a chance to pitch . . .
Heap: Yeah, me too. But you came up during a crazy series with the Mets -- next time you come up you'll get to pitch, and hopefully you'll be up here for good.
Devy: That would be great! Well, I guess I've got a bus to catch.
Heap: They're making you take a bus back to Mississippi?!
Devy: Yeah, I'm back on a minor leaguer's salary. It's okay! There's a bathroom on the bus and everything. Could be worse!
Heap: I guess so. See you soon, buddy.
Devy: Bye!

June 20, 2007

The Braves are losing to the Red Sox, 11-0 in the bottom of the 8th.

Bobby: Consarnit!! Who's going to pitch the 9th?
McDowell: You've used everyone but Joey Devine.
Bobby: What's Devine doing up here?!
McDowell: He just got called up today to replace McBride.
Bobby: Aw, hell. Get Francoeur out there.
McDowell: Um, he's still playing rightfield. And he hasn't pitched since high school.
Bobby: FINE. Put Mr. Grand Slam in. Not like this could get any worse.

Devy: /gives up two hits
Heap: /goes out to the mound
Heap: Hey, what's the matter?
Devy: Nothing . . . I think I'm just nervous. Bobby only trusts me to pitch games where we're losing by double digits.
Heap: Well, you'll have to earn his trust back, you knew that. C'mon, I know you can do it, just don't overthink.
Devy: Okay. Thanks, Heap.
Devy: /gets out of the inning without giving up a run

Heap: Hey, good job!
Devy: Thanks!
Bobby: Kid!
Devy: . . . Me?
Bobby: Yeah, you. We just got a new reliever from the Tigers. Here's your bus ticket home.
Heap: This is the second time we've sent him back this year -- can't we at least spring for a flight?
Bobby: Oh, I'm sorry, are you Brian McCann, starting catcher AND traveling secretary?
Heap: . . . No.
Bobby: That's what I thought. See ya later, Devine.

Heap: Geez, Joey, that stinks.
Devy: No, that's okay. I knew I wasn't up to stay . . . they need a lefty reliever.
Heap: Well, at least you got to pitch this time!
Devy: Yep! See you later, Heap.

July 5, 2007

Devy walks into the visitor's clubhouse in Los Angeles, a slightly scuffed suitcase in hand.

Heap: Hey, you're back!
Devy: Yep! Whose roster spot am I taking this time?
Heap: Pete Orr's. They optioned him to Richmond last night.
Devy: Is that . . . Bobby over there in the corner?
Heap: Yeah. He's been weeping since last night. He said this was "like the ending of The Yearling, only a hundred times worse."
Devy: What the hell does that mean?
Heap: Beats me, but Bobby really likes Orr.
Devy: Oh, great.
Heap: Nah, don't worry. He won't take it out on you.

Devy: /pitches two innings in nine games

July 18, 2007

Bobby: Kid!
Devy: Yeah?
Bobby: We're putting Davies in the pen. You're going home.
Devy: /holds out hand
Bobby: /slaps bus ticket into it

August 3, 2007

Devy wanders into the Braves clubhouse with a tattered suitcase. He sighs.

Heap: Joey! Hey, you must be up for the rest of the season, huh?
Devy: I guess.
Heap: Aw, don't worry. You've been doing so well in the minors, and our bullpen could use you.
Devy: Thanks, Heap. I don't mind about the short call ups so much . . . my head's kind of spinning, but I understand.
Heap: You've been a good sport.

That night, the team is losing 7-2 after the bottom of the 7th.

Bobby: Consarnit! Who's going to pitch the last two innings??
McDowell: You've used everyone but Devine and Cormier.
Bobby: . . .
Bobby: . . .
Bobby: . . .
Boddy: Goddammit. Gimme Devine.

Devy: /walks a batter
Devy: /gives up a hit
Heap: /calls time out, jogs out to the mound
Heap: What's wrong, Joey?
Devy: I don't know . . . I'm having a hard time getting my head in the game. I just got here this afternoon, and here I am, pitching at the end of another loss . . .
Heap: Joey, don't be like that! We need you to hold them.
Devy: You're right, I'm sorry.
Heap: Go get 'em!

Devy: /strikes out two, gets out of the inning without giving up a run
Bobby: /puts Cormier in for the 9th
Cormier: /gives up two more runs

August 6, 2007

Devy: Thanks for letting me crash at your place while I'm in town.
Heap: No problem! I've got plenty of space.
Devy: I just don't want to look for my own place, with the rollercoaster I've been on this season.
Heap: I know, but it's August, and you've been doing so well. I don't think you'll have to go back to Mississippi this season.
Devy: I hope not -- I'm really looking forward to going to New York with you guys tomorrow!
Heap: Yeah, it's an important road trip.

Devy's cell phone rings.

Devy: Who could that be -- oh. Shit.
Heap: . . . It's Bobby, isn't it?
Devy: Yeah.
Devy: /gets up
Devy: Drive me to the bus station?

August 24, 2007

Devy walks into the visitor's clubhouse in St. Louis, carrying a garbage bag full of shoes, shaking.

Heap: Joe-- whoa, are you okay?
Devy: Let's just get this over with.

August 26, 2007

The Braves are losing to the Cardinals, and Devy comes in to pitch the 8th.

Devy: /walks Pujols
Devy: /gives up a hit
Heap: /jogs out to the mound
Heap: Hey, are you alright?
Devy: No.
Heap: I know, I know, but listen -- the roster expansion is in just a few days! There's no way they'll send you back again. And here's your chance to prove that you deserve to be up here, right?
Devy: DO I deserve to be here?! I can't even tell anymore.
Heap: Yes! You know you do. To hell with all these roster moves. Just pitch like the old Joey Devine. The one I knew in the minors who was totally confident. First round draft pick Joey Devine! You're still him, despite all these struggles.
Devy: /wipes tear
Devy: Thanks, Heap.
Heap: No problem. Now shut these guys down!

Devy: /strikes out two, gets out of the inning without giving up a run

Heap: I knew you could do it!
Devy: Aww, shucks!
Heap: Man, I can't wait to get out of St. Louis! Hopefully we'll be able to turn it around in Miami.
Devy: Miami . . . sounds fun!
Heap: Have you ever been on a road trip down there?
Devy: I . . . can't remember. I've blocked most of 2005 out entirely, to be honest.
Heap: That's probably for the best.

Bobby: Kid!
Heap: Oh no.
Devy: . . . me?
Bobby: /holds out a bus ticket
Bobby: I'm sorry to do this to ya, but we need help on the bench. You'll be back in a few days.
Devy: COMING BACK IN A FEW DAYS IS NO LONGER A COMFORT.
Heap: Just stay calm, Devy. After the roster expansion, you'll be up for the rest of the year.
Devy: OH REALLY?? I DON'T BELIEVE ANYTHING ANY OF YOU SAY ANYMORE.
Devy: /shakes uncontrollably
Heap: Geez, Bobby, how can you do this to him?? Who are you bringing up to help on the bench? Brayan Pena?
Bobby: Who? No, I'm bringing up Peter Orr!

Devy: ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME
Devy: I HAVE A HIGHER BATTING AVERAGE THAN PETE ORR
Bobby: But you haven't even hit this year!
Devy: PRECISELY
Heap: Yeah, Bobby, doesn't Orr have a negative average? Because of that one time he leapt out of the on deck circle and fielded one of Chipper's infield hits?
Bobby: But he's a great teammate! And he's a hell of a Connect Four player, goddammit!

Devy: /faints

~~

Eric Campbell needs to hurry up and serve his suspension, start hitting and get up here. I could go for an "insubordinate act" right about now.

I can't decide if I miss the Davies twins or not. I definitely miss Gonzalez, and the effective Chuckie of '06, and Wicky is making me nostalgic for even Kerry Ligtenburg. He may have blown his share of saves, but at least he was kind of cute. I was extremely grateful to only have to listen to Wickman throw the game away on the radio on the way home last night . . . actually seeing him mess up that play on first might have prompted criminal activity.

But speaking of criminal activity in Missouri this weekend . . . will the guys hang out with Good and/or Evil Davies while they're in town?

~~

On the plane last night . . .

Frenchy: Psst! Hey, Heap, you awake?
Heap: Yeah, what do you want? I really don't feel like talking right now.
Frenchy: I know, but . . . I just wanted to ask you something.
Frenchy: /looks over his shoulder
Frenchy: Do you . . . kind of . . . hate Wicky?
Heap: Frenchy, no. You can't blame that loss entirely on him.
Frenchy: Oh, I know, I know. I went 0-6!
Heap: Precisely.
Frenchy: But, still. I mean, you can tell me. You kind of hate him, right? Just a little?
Heap: No -- Frenchy, just leave me alone, okay?
Frenchy: Geez, fine. I'll just take my scintillating conversation elsewhere.
Heap: Yeah, good luck with that.

Frenchy gets up, wanders the plane. Everyone has the lights over their seats turned off, trying to sleep or moping about the game. Everyone, except one person . . .

Frenchy: /wanders over
Frenchy: Hey, are you one of the beat writers?
Hampton: Hmm? Oh, no.
Frenchy: Are you new on the training staff or something? I've seen you hanging around on the past few road trips. I should have introduced myself, my name is --
Hampton: Yeah, I know who you are. We've met.
Frenchy: We have? Oh, I'm sorry -- did you bring me Gatorade yesterday or something?
Hampton: Well, yes, but we actually met in 2005.
Frenchy: Oh, in the minors!
Hampton: No . . . I pitched for about a month after you were called up.
Frenchy: Seriously?
Frenchy: /looks at him closely
Frenchy: Kyle . . . Farnsworth?
Hampton: No, I was a starter! Mike Hampton!
Frenchy: /blank stare
Hampton: . . . The short guy?
Frenchy: Oh, yeah! Sorry, I didn't recognize you.
Hampton: That's okay, I haven't been around a lot this year. Or last year. Or most of the time you've been in the majors.
Frenchy: So are you getting ready to rejoin the rotation?
Hampton: Oh hell no. I won't even touch a baseball until March. And then only for several minutes a day.
Frenchy: Then . . . why are you on the road trip?
Hampton: My wife said I needed to get some fresh air, talk to people, get reacquainted with being, you know, "outside" of the "basement." Stuff like that. You know how women are!
Frenchy: Oh, sure! Hey, I'm getting married in a few months, you got any advice for me?
Hampton: Of course! Have a seat.
Frenchy: No one is sitting here?
Hampton: Nah. People don't generally sit within fifty feet of me. They think I'm bad luck.
Frenchy: Why would they think that?
Hampton: Beats me!

~~

The next morning at the hotel, Heap wanders down to the lobby.

Heap: Hey! Frenchy! There you are.
Frenchy: Hmm? Oh. Hi.
Heap: I was about to go get something for breakfast, have you eaten?
Frenchy: Oh, yeah. Mike and I went to breakfast hours ago.
Heap: . . . Mike?
Frenchy: Yes! Mike Hampton! Duh, Heap! He's only like, half our payroll!
Heap: /cringes
Heap: I was afraid that was who you were talking about.
Frenchy: Afraid? Why?
Heap: Frenchy . . . Hampton is . . . kind of strange.
Frenchy: Whatever!! You're just jealous that I'm friends with the veterans!
Heap: No, I'm not! Why is he even coming along on the road trips lately?! Chipper bet me fifty dollars that it's because his wife kicked him out and he needs a place to sleep.
Frenchy: That is so immature! Why don't you go hang out with your beloved Wickman?
Heap: Wicky is in the middle of his intense three hour breakfast regimen, but that's not the point --

Hampton: Hey, Jeff, there you are! Ready to play golf?
Frenchy: Yep!
Heap: You can't play golf the morning of a game!!
Frenchy: Don't tell me what to do!
Frenchy: /wanders off with Hampton

Heap: Well . . . fine!
Heap: /crosses arms
Heap: I mean . . . pssh! Like I care!
Heap: /looks around the empty lobby
Heap: /takes out cell phone

A phone rings in an apartment in Kansas City.

Good Davies: Hello?
Heap: Kyle!
Good Davies: Heap . . . hi.
Heap: Yeah, hi! What the hell is up with you calling me uptight?
Good Davies: I wasn't talking about you specifically!
Heap: You were, too! You said you "felt distant," and you named names!
Good Davies: Well, you guys weren't that nice to me when I was losing!
Heap: Well, excuse me for giving you the benefit of the doubt, but when "you" lost, I usually assumed it was your evil twin who was trying to sabotage your career!
Good Davies: Look, I'm sorry, okay! No hard feelings?
Heap: Fine, whatever. I'm in St. Louis today if you want to drive over and hang out.
Good Davies: . . . Okay. I'll be there in a few hours.

Later, there is a knock on Heap's hotel room door.

Heap: Hey, Ky--
Evil Davies: Hello, Brian.
Heap: You! What are you doing here?
Evil Davies: My brother told me you showed up in Missouri and threatened him. So here I am.
Heap: Threatened him?! I'm here for a series with the Cardinals! And what do you care, anyway? You don't even like your brother!
Evil Davies: Yes, but somehow I like you less.
Heap: So, what? You're here to kick my ass? All I said was that I wanted to hang out with him while we're in town!
Evil Davies: Well, he felt very threatened by that. He's fragile. Probably because I've been tormenting him since the womb.
Heap: Man, I don't have time for this crap --

Heap: /starts to shut the door in Evil Davies' face
Evil Davies: /holds the door open
Evil Davies: Well, you'd better make time.
Evil Davies: /hisses
Evil Davies: /raises hands, Dracula-style
Heap: Um--

Frenchy: /runs up to the hotel room door
Frenchy: /whacks Evil Davies in the back of the head with a golf club
Heap: Frenchy! Uh -- thanks!
Frenchy: No problem! Man, who would have thought a few weeks in the American League would make Kyle so weird?
Heap: Um, you do know that this is the Evil Davies . . . right?
Frenchy: Oh, seriously?
Heap: You thought Good Davies was attacking me?!
Frenchy: No, I was just pissed about that dig at us in that article! I mean, wouldn't you hit me in the back of the head with a golf club if I dissed you in the press?  
Heap: Er -- Wait, why are you back from golf so soon? What did you play, three holes?
Frenchy: Not even . . . it wasn't really that fun. Mike can't touch anything round until the spring, so I had to set up his shots for him, then he said that the handles on his clubs were "a little too close to being round," and he made me hit for him, too. Then he said I had to carry him because he's had some "mishaps" with golf carts in the past, so. I left.
Heap: Told you so.
Frenchy: Hey! Maybe next time some evil doppelganger is attacking you, I'll just let nature take its course.
Heap: You just said you only hit him because you were mad about that article!
Frenchy: Yeah, well. What should we do with him, anyway?
Heap: Um.
Heap: /stares down at the unconscious Evil Davies
Heap: Put him in the rotation?

~~

I feel like Wicky might if he was turned loose in the all-you-can-eat seats . . . I don't even know where to START.

So why not start by disclaiming? I do like Davies and this article actually made me happy. I especially love the bit about A-Rod sending him the bat. But Davies is one of those Other Kids who grew up playing with Heap and Frenchy (we used to have at least three -- I think Boyer is the only one who hasn't been dumped this season), and he's pulling a bit of a call out on Those Two now that he's gone. Who saw that coming?? Not me!

~~

Last night . . .

Frenchy is dressing for the game, getting ready to run out onto the field.

Heap: Hey Frenchy, have you heard from Kyle lately?
Frenchy: Who?
Heap: KYLE DAVIES. You know, that guy we've played ball with since we were kids?
Frenchy: Oh yeah! You know . . . I haven't heard from him lately.
Frenchy: /looks around
Frenchy: Is he on the DL or something?
Heap: FRENCHY. He got traded to Kansas City, remember? You threw him a goodbye party at your house!
Frenchy: Man, I totally forgot about that! I was wondering why he hadn't started in awhile.
Heap: What is wrong with you?
Frenchy: Nothing! What's wrong with YOU?
Frenchy: /jogs toward the dugout

Heap: /sees the back of his jersey, laughs
Heap: Hey, Frenchy!
Frenchy: What?
Heap: You - ah - never mind.

Heap: Scooter, c'mere.
Scooter: Huh?
Heap: I'll bet you twenty bucks Frenchy doesn't find out they spelled his name wrong on his jersey until the fourth inning.
Scooter: Pssh! I bet you a hundred he notices it before his first at-bat!
Heap: You're on! Ha, I'm about to be a hundred dollars richer, my friend. He didn't even notice Kyle had been traded until just now!
Scooter: Uh-huh. Just watch.

Frenchy: /steps up to bat
Frenchy: /immediately checks himself out on the Jumbotron
Frenchy: Hey!
Frenchy: STOP THE GAME!
Frenchy: MY JERSEY HAS BEEN DEFILED!!

Heap: DAMMIT.
Scooter: Pay up.

~~

After the game, Frenchy is sulking in the clubhouse.

Heap: Aw, cheer up, at least we won the series.
Frenchy: But I went 0-4! I've been awful since we got home -- what's wrong with me?
Heap: Nothing - hey - you did well on the road trip.
Frenchy: Exactly! Why can't I hit at home? The opposite was true last year!
Heap: I don't know, it's probably just a --
Frenchy: I'VE GOT IT! I did well at home last year because I lived in your house!! It's good luck!
Heap: Uh -
Frenchy: Let me sleep on your couch tonight to see if it'll make a difference.
Heap: Frenchy -
Frenchy: Please!! C'mon, I'm really suffering here.
Heap: My girlfriend was going to come over!
Frenchy: So what? Your girlfriend LOVES me!
Heap: . . . What?!
Frenchy: Man, this is totally gonna work! I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner!

~~

The following morning at Heap's house, Frenchy wakes up on the couch at the crack of dawn, and goes outside to get the morning paper.

Frenchy: /reading paper
Frenchy: "Giants sluggers get best of James"
Frenchy: Aww, they sure did. Hey, here's a story about Kyle!
Frenchy: "He's happier than he's been in a long time."
Frenchy: Well, neat! I'd better wake Heap up and tell him.

Frenchy: /pounds on Heap's bedroom door
Heap: /wakes up in a panic
Heap: What, what's wrong?!?
Frenchy: Hey! Check out this great story about Kyle!
Frenchy: /jumps onto his bed and throws the newspaper at him
Heap: Are you kidding me?
Frenchy: No! It says he smiled and everything!
Heap: /stares
Frenchy: I know, right? Hard to believe!
Heap: Frenchy - for God's sake.
Heap: /reads

Heap: "But it makes a big difference when you feel like you can go out there, and even though you came up short, you got a chance to do your best. I feel like I'm getting that chance here, to do whatever I can do to get out of stuff ... to try to win a ball game."
Heap: Hmph, is he saying he didn't get chances to do that here?
Frenchy: Nah, he just likes his new team is all!
Heap: /reads on
Heap: Is he complaining that he got pulled after 22 pitches in his last start here? "I need . . . I can't . . . this isn't a good situation for me." What does that even mean? Did he want to walk ten more runs in before we took him out??
Frenchy: "I needed to get out of there" - hmm, I never knew he felt that way.
Heap: Yeah, well, you didn't even realize he'd been traded until yesterday. But what's this crap about our clubhouse being "all business"?
Frenchy: Apparently in Kansas, "everybody comes up and talks" to him - hey, we talked to him! Didn't we?
Heap: Heck yeah! I comforted him when his evil twin was trying to ruin his life!

Frenchy: Maybe Evil Davies did the quotes for this article.
Heap: Nah, he doesn't like to deal with the press.
Frenchy: Well then, Good Davies just called us uptight!
Heap: Uptight! Us?!
Frenchy: The nerve! And check it out, A-Rod sent him a signed bat! I guess he has new, cooler friends now in the American League.
Heap: Didn't you like, throw a sandwich at A-Rod once?
Frenchy: No, no. I got mad at him for berating a clubhouse attendant who brought him the wrong sandwich.
Heap: I like the version where you throw a sandwich at him better.
Frenchy: Yeah, I wouldn't be opposed to you spreading that version.

~~

Meanwhile, in Kansas City . . .

Good Davies: Ahh, another glorious morning in my true spiritual home: Missouri!
Good Davies: I feel like a new person! Thank God I got out of the City That Must Not Be Named!
Good Davies: /checks cell phone
Good Davies: Hmph, Heap and Frenchy haven't called me since last week. I guess they're too busy with their precious lives.
Good Davies: No skin off my rear! I've got this baby for company!

Good Davies: /picks up the bat from A-Rod
Good Davies: /reads inscription
Good Davies: "To Kyle, it was a really good pitch. Sorry. Home run No. 500 to a good sport. A-Rod."
Good Davies: Ha ha! It was a really good pitch!
Good Davies: /turns the bat
Good Davies: "P.S. -- Is that guy Francouer totally mean or what?"
Good Davies: You are so wise, A-Rod.

~~

I didn't get to watch the game last night, but I recorded it. I wasn't going to bother, given the outcome, but I have to at least hear Skip's commentary on the Epic Misspelling of '07.

I was going absolutely crazy for that game from start to finish -- what a great one. For some reason I've been kind of distracted during games lately, folding laundry or fooling around on my laptop (maybe because they last 15 innings on average lately), but I was on the edge of my seat for this one the entire time, obsessed by every pitch, back in "you can't move that chair, WHAT IF WE'RE WINNING ONLY BECAUSE THAT CHAIR IS IN THAT PRECISE SPOT?! DO YOU REALLY WANT TO RISK IT???" mode.

Oh, and apparently Bonds did his thing, finally. I'm glad it happened at midnight during a game I wasn't watching, because that makes it seem more surreal. The comments by Murph delighted me, because I know a lot of guys don't want to speak out, and the ones who do are usually just the windbags who run their mouths about everything. The Murph is such a good, classy guy, but he doesn't back down when some bitchiness is called for. Preach it!

~~

Last night at the hotel in New York, the youngsters are up late in Scooter's room, eating room service food and celebrating the win . . .

Heap: Man, what a great start to the road trip! Frenchy, you were awesome.
Frenchy: Heh! I know!
Scooter: Yeah, I wish I could have contributed more.
Heap: What! All those double plays you helped to turn? Man, they saved us when Buddy was struggling. Good job.
Scooter: Aww, thanks.

There is a knock on the door, and Scooter hops up to answer it.

Scooter: Oh, hey, Druw. You want to--
Andruw: Did you guys see????
Scooter: See what?
Andruw: You're not watching the Nationals-Giants game??
Heap: No, we're watching Foster's.
Frenchy: Yeah, they're doing a marathon! It's like Cartoon Network knew we were gonna beat the Mets and wanted us to have a reward!!
Andruw: Um. Right. Well, Bonds just broke Aaron's record!
Scooter: Oh, wow.
Frenchy: Yeah, neat.
Heap: Well, I'm glad he did it in San Francisco and not in Atlanta. We'll have to answer enough questions about it during the Giants series as it is.
Andruw: But aren't you guys like, excited?? Angry? Anything?
Frenchy: /laughs
Andruw: What's so funny?
Frenchy: Huh? Oh, the rabbit on Foster's just fell down the stairs.
Frenchy: He's totally the best character.
Scooter: Whatever! The big purple guy is way funnier!
Andruw: Uh. Alright, then. Just wanted to make sure you guys knew . . .
Heap: Well, thanks, Andruw. See you later.

Heap: Hey guys, do you think we should have some significant reaction to Bonds breaking the record? I mean it is a big deal.
Frenchy: I got mine right here.
Frenchy: /pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket
Frenchy: Wrote this sucker in June -- I've almost got it memorized.
Heap: So this is why you're so good with the press?? You write speeches and memorize them?
Frenchy: Duh, Heap. Doesn't everyone?
Heap: Scooter, what do you think?
Scooter: Hmm? Oh, I don't bother preparing quotes for the press. I never really . . . get interviewed all that often.
Heap: No, I mean about -- ugh, never mind.
Frenchy: Where are you going?
Heap: I'm just gonna make a call real quick . . .

A phone rings in a hotel room in Kansas City.

Good Davies: Hello?
Heap: Hey, Kyle. Did you hear about Bonds?
Good Davies: Yeah, I'm watching the game. Woo-hoo.
Heap: What's wrong, Kyle?
Good Davies: Nothing . . . I'm just having a hard time adjusting to life without my friends.
Heap: I know, but . . . haven't you gotten friendly with anyone in Kansas?
Good Davies: Yeah, they're nice, but . . . Heap . . . I gave up A-Rod's 500th homer.
Heap: Yeah, I read about that. That's actually why I'm calling . . .
Good Davies: It is?
Heap: Yeah, could you do me a favor? Every time you pitch to A-Rod . . . could you . . . throw him that same pitch?
Good Davies: What?! No! I'm not going to betray my new team!
Heap: /sigh
Heap: I thought you might say that. Well, it was worth a try. Look, I'll call you tomorrow, alright?

A cell phone rings in the midst of a Kansas City night club.

Evil Davies: What?
Heap: Hey, E.D., what's up?
Evil Davies: Who the hell is this? How did you get this number?
Heap: It's your old catcher, Brian McCann.
Evil Davies: Who McWhat? Look, I'm kind of busy--
Heap: I know, just listen for a sec. I have a semi-evil deed for you.
Evil Davies: Oh yeah?
Heap: Interested?
Evil Davies: Well . . . my evil-doing is kind of directionless now that I can no longer try to sabotage the NL East division race . . . what are you proposing?
Heap: You know how your brother gave up that homer to A-Rod recently?
Evil Davies: Oh, yes! I was vacationing in Barcelona at the time, but it gave me a chuckle when I returned to the states.
Heap: . . . Right, well, could you, like, um. Pitch for him every time the Royals play the Yankees? And give up as many homers as possible?
Evil Davies: With pleasure-- wait, this isn't some kind of underhandedly good deed is it?
Heap: What would make you think that? Anyway, it'll annoy your brother.
Evil Davies: Which is my default reason for living. Alright. I'll consider it. But if I find out this is somehow serving the greater good, you'll be sorry.
Heap: Okay, but . . . do you support Bonds holding the home run record for a long time?
Evil Davies: Oh God no! What do you take me for? I'm not THAT evil.
Heap: Then we shouldn't have a problem.

~~

This little tidbit from the AJC's article about Bonds hitting 756 cracked me up:

A woman who answered the phone at Aaron's home in Georgia shortly after Bonds' homer said that Aaron was asleep.

Video message or not, there's your statement right there.

I don't really know how to feel, but I'm leaning toward happy, because I like this Tex fella we've accumulated, and now Salty won't be wasted at first base; I really think he missed catching. Still, he was ouuurrrrrs. Oh, well.

How sad did he look on Sunday afternoon when we were giving the Diamondbacks a 14-0 pounding and he was unable to participate? I think even Bobby Dews hit a slam off of Livan Hernandez at one point. I was waiting for someone to somberly shout "TRADED MAN WALKING!" when Salty got up for water.

They had yesterday off, but I'm SURE they all got together to give him a proper send off.

~~

Last night, at Frenchy's house, amidst balloons and streamers, and beneath a giant "BON VOYAGE, S'LAMACCHIA!" banner, many of the Braves are gathered, drinking from plastic party cups and waiting for the guest of honor to arrive . . .

Heap: So this is your new house, eh?
Frenchy: Yeah, what do you think?
Heap: Total downgrade.
Frenchy: HEY
Heap: Just kidding -- uh, is that a painting of your Sports Illustrated cover over the fireplace there?
Frenchy: Yeah! I was gonna have a print blown up to wall size, but I thought this would be classier.

Salty walks in looking dejected, and everyone turns to greet him.

Frenchy: Hey, there you are! Are you excited about going to Texas?
Salty: /glares at him
Salty: Um. NO.
Frenchy: Why not?! You'll be a starting catcher there! You're gonna be a big star!
Salty: But . . . but . . .
Salty: /lip quivers
Salty: Don't the Rangers, like . . .
Salty: SUCK?
Salty: /bursts into tears

Scooter: Well, this year they do, but with you on board, hey! You can turn the whole franchise around!
Salty: /sniffles
Salty: I guess.
Scooter: I was born in Texas, and it's a great place to live. Don't be sad! We'll miss you--
Heap: /stifles laughter
Scooter: /hits him
Scooter: But you'll make new friends!
Salty: /wipes tears
Salty: Yeah, like who? I forgot the Rangers even existed until this trade talk started. They got anybody good?

Heap: Um, they've got Kevin Millwood. He played for the Braves when I was in middle school.
Salty: So he's OLD?
Heap: No, he's not old! Not that old, anyway. They've also got Jamey Wright. He used to be good . . . I think?
Scooter: No, you're thinking of someone else.
Salty: OH MY GOD. They all suck, don't they?
Frenchy: No! They've got C.J. Wilson and Eric Gagne! They're great!
Salty: Yeah . . . well . . . whose job am I gonna be stealing?
Heap: The catchers on their roster right now are Laird and Melhuse.
Salty: Who and what? I thought I was replacing Pudge?
Heap: No, Salty. He hasn't played for the Rangers since 2002.
Frenchy: But don't worry about the other two, they're hitting about .052 combined.
Scooter: Yeah, so people are gonna love you!
Salty: Well, DUH, Kelly. That's not the issue here.

Suddenly, Good Davies bursts through the door, out of breath.

Good Davies: Have you heard anything new??
Good Davies: /panting
Good Davies: It's not really . . . the Royals . . . is it?!

Awkward silence ensues.

Frenchy: See, Salty, it could be worse!
Good Daves: /weeps
Evil Davies: Oh, give it a rest, you weakling.
Good Davies: What are YOU doing here?!
Evil Davies: Like I was going to waste my time sabotaging AAA games.
Evil Davies: I've actually been spending quite a bit of time with your fiancee while you've been in Virginia. We've kind of hit it off, really.
Good Davies: I'LL KILL YOU
Evil Davies: /hisses
Good Davies: Frenchy, how could you invite him?! Did you think he was me?
Frenchy: Um, no. He's actually kind of cool. Did you know he dated Alyssa Milano?
Good Davies: Ugh, who HASN'T?! And anyway, look, he's totally drawing a mustache on your painting of that Sports Illustrated cover!
Frenchy: /whirls around
Frenchy: GET DOWN FROM THERE YOU BASTARD!!!!
Evil Davies: /laughs
Evil Davies: /flees into the night

As the party winds down, Salty sits out on the front porch to mope and say goodbye to his former teammates as they head home. Heap is the last to leave.

Salty: Hey, old timer, come over here for a second.
Heap: Wha--oh. I didn't realize you were still here. Um, I guess this is goodbye.
Salty: Listen, man. I want you to know you've taught me a lot.
Heap: I have? Every time I tried to give you tips about the pitchers you talked over me with your own "tips" about how to "keep them in line."
Salty: Oh, I don't mean about catching. Ha! As if I could learn anything about that from you-- No, I'm talking about life lessons.
Heap: You've got like five seconds before I punch you in the face and walk away.
Salty: Like that time you told me, "THAT'S NOT CANDY!" when I tried to eat that blue stuff in Frenchy's locker, or when you told me I should probably quit double-parking my truck across Smoltz and Andruw's spaces, and how you said my wife would probably not see the humor in pinching Our Katy Temple's butt on the pre-game show --
Heap: Right, I get it. Look, I gotta go. Good luck in--
Salty: WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY, HEAP, IS--
Salty: /hugs him
Salty: You've been like a grandfather to me.

~~

Go kick some American League ass, Saltalamacch. But not too much ass, cause that would make us look stupid.

Yesterday Rain Delay suggested that I write something about Heap and Frenchy's high school days. Of course those two had actual high school days together (sort of -- they didn't go to the same school, but apparently they were buddies then, too), but what fun would that be unless I pretended that the others went to school with them? I'd already written this sort of unfunny thing about where the Braves would sit at lunch if they went to high school together -- you know, the cool seniors table (Chipper, Rent, Smoltz, Andruw, Huddy), then the semi-cool but mostly dorky juniors table (Frenchy, Heap, Scooter, formerly Davies, Thor, Chuckie), the bullpen (Wicky, etc.: lots of eating contests), the freshmen (Yuney, Salty, now Jo-Jo) and of course the dorks (Diaz, Woodward, and the king of the dorks, Orr, running his elaborte Connect Four tournaments from the Dork Table).

So that was kind of lame and I just put it aside, but now, thanks to RD's suggestion and some inspiration from last night's game, I have come up with the perfect high school metaphor, and yeah, it's kind of weird, but at least not as dark as the Huddy-beats-the-ever-loving-crap-out-of-Wicky idea I had earlier.

~~

It's after five o'clock at Random Suburban High School, and a group of students has stayed late to work on their science project . . .

Heap: Man, Huddy, I'm so glad we have you to help us with this.
Frenchy: Yeah, you're like. Awesome at science.
Huddy: Thanks fellas, and may I say that I am feeling particularly awesome at science tonight?
Heap: Yeah, I could tell! So what's the plan?
Huddy: A working volcano, of course!
Scooter: Brilliant!
Heap: I'll help you draw up the plans.
Frenchy: I'll go buy the supplies.
Scooter: And I'll paint it when you're done!

Huddy: Cool, sounds good. But aren't there two more people in our group?
Chipper: /shows up at the classroom door
Chipper: /smacking gum arrogantly
Heap: /whispers to Frenchy
Heap: Oh my God it's Chipper Jones!!
Frenchy: Shut up, shut up! Act cool.
Heap: /nods enthusiastically
Chipper: Hey.
Huddy: Hey, man. You gonna help us?
Chipper: I sure am.
Chipper: /dumps an armload of materials on Huddy's desk
Chipper: There ya go.
Huddy: Wow, thanks! I'll be able to make an awesome volcano with this stuff.
Chipper: No problem. Later.
Frenchy: BYE CHIPPER!
Chipper: /saunters off

Frenchy organizes the supplies while Heap and Huddy make plans. When the volcano is constructed, Scooter puts on the finishing touches.

Heap: Wow, that was easier than I thought it would be! Great job, Huddy!
Huddy: Thanks, kid. Just have to test it to make sure it works--
Huddy: /pours chemicals in

Volcano: /does nothing
Huddy: Oh, dammit! Why isn't this thing working!
Frenchy: Man, we were almost done, too!
Huddy: Hmm, what did I do wrong . . .?

Barry Bonds: /walks through the hall, clutching his own science project
Barry Bonds: /peeks into the classroom where our heroes are puzzling over theirs
Barry Bonds: Hey guys.
Huddy: Huh? Oh hi, Barry.
Barry Bonds: Check this out.
Barry Bonds: /holds up a professional-looking volcano that is spewing lava successfully
Huddy: Hey, what the hell! How'd you finish yours so fast, and where's the rest of your group?
Barry Bonds: Those clowns? Who cares, this project is all about me and my genius.
Huddy: So how'd you do it?
Barry Bonds: Uh, you know. Science.
Huddy: Well, yeah, but what chemicals did you use?
Barry Bonds: Um.
Barry Bonds: Sodium?
Huddy: Sodium! You don't even know -- you paid someone to make that for you, didn't you!
Barry Bonds: You can't prove that!!
Huddy: Whatever, get out of here!
Huddy: /slams the door in his face

Huddy: Ugh, I need to get some fresh air and think. You guys hold down the fort while I take a walk, okay?
Heap: Sure, Hud.
Huddy: /walks off

Frenchy: Mannnn, this is taking longer than I thought it would. I'm hungry!
Heap: Well get over it, we have to finish this or we'll fail!
Scooter: I'm hungry, too. Maybe we should run down to the vending machines?
Frenchy: Yeah!!
Heap: Alright, fine. I guess I could use a snack.

A few minutes later, they return to the classroom with food from the vending machines . . .

Wicky: /standing in the doorway
Wicky: Uh, hey guys. Sorry I'm late.
Heap: Oh, that's okay, we're practically done anywa-- OH MY GOD
Volcano: /almost completely gone, only a few shreds of papier mache clinging to a plywood board
Frenchy: WHOA
Scooter: What the hell happened??!
Wicky: /sad face
Wicky: I . . . sat on it.
Heap: WHAT?!
Wicky: Okay, I ate it!!

Huddy: /appears in the doorway
Huddy: WICKY ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME
Wicky: Sorry, I'm really sorry! I only wanted to help!!
Heap: And eating our science project helps how?!
Wicky: It seemed like a good idea at the time!
Huddy: All my hard work!
Scooter: We're gonna fail!

Rent: /appears in the hallway
Rent: Hey guys, what's wrong?
Huddy: EVERYTHING
Rent: Oh gosh, I'm sorry to hear that. I just wanted to let you guys know that I went ahead and finished our science project and turned it in this afternoon.
Huddy: Buh--wha--I didn't even know you were in our group!
Heap: Yeah, we would have helped you!
Rent: Oh, that's okay, I don't mind! Anyway, see you later!

Huddy: /stunned silence
Wicky: /glances at Frenchy
Wicky: Um
Wicky: You gonna finish those Funions?

~~

Later . . .

Frenchy: Oh my God, look at him over there.
Heap: So?
Frenchy: C'monnnn, it's too sad to watch him eating lunch alone! Let's invite him to sit with us.
Heap: Um, do you realize who you're talking about?
Frenchy: So he's a little weird, so what? Everyone deserves friends!

Frenchy: Hey, Salty, come sit with us!
Salty: /head jerks up
Salty: /runs over, grinning
Salty: Hey guys!
Frenchy: Hey! How are you?
Salty: Me? Oh I'm awesome of course, couldn't be better. What's that you're eating? String cheese? Did you know my great uncle invented string cheese? Yeah we're pretty much millionaires because of it, well, more like billionaires, possibly trillionaires, only, you know, we don't believe in like, showing off, so we donate most of it to charity.
Frenchy: That's--
Salty: Yeah the S'lamacchia family has built like, probably 900 homeless shelters. We're just giving like that. I had a Porshce once, but I gave it to a homeless guy. He cried.
Heap: /glares at Frenchy
Salty: Anyway, you should probably give me half of that string cheese. I mean you kinda owe me, since my family invented it and all.
Frenchy: Um, sure--
Salty: /sings "You're Simply The Best"
Salty: /with a mouthful of string cheese
Heap: /leaves the table

~~

What do you want to bet ESPN somehow picks up ALL of our games in this series? FUN. Especially since I Tivo the late ones and therefore do not have the option of listening along with the radio instead . . . just kick their asses, boys.

~~

Last night, on the midnight flight to San Francisco . . .

Andruw: What a crappy series.
Willie: It wasn't all bad.
Chipper: Yeah, we did split it with them. And you homered in the opener.
Andruw: But Tony LaRussa yelled at me!!
Chipper: Well, Terry told him off for you, didn't he?
Andruw: Yeah, but then they hit Heap in retalliation! Out of all us they picked Heap, Chipper? The Cardinals are mean.
Chipper: Well, whatever. At least the Giants suck. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day. Or today, I should say, ugh.

Heap: /asleep
Frenchy: /pokes his arm
Frenchy: Hey, wake up, we're here! Gaw, Heap, you're always sleeping!
Heap: /rubs eyes, puts on his glasses
Heap: Frenchy, I just took a six hour midnight flight, what the hell do you expect? Look around, everyone else is tired, too.
Frenchy: /glances around at players who are yawning and complaining about ESPN
Heap: Man, I can't wait to get in bed! I hope the drive to the hotel won't be long.
Frenchy: You didn't even play tonight! Maybe Saltalamacch has a point, ya old codger.
Heap: /punches him
Frenchy: Hey, ow!

The players walk off the plane and through the airport. There is some sort of commotion at the exit, where the team bus is waiting . . .

Bobby: What the hell's all this?
Reporter: Oh my God, here they come!! It's the Braves!
Salty: /steps forward, grinning
Salty: Sorry, fellas, what can I say! I can't go anywhere without getting my picture taken, what a nuisance! Better give the people what they want, though--
Reporter: /runs to Smoltz
Reporter: What's it like to know that tomorrow you will be pitching to THE Barry Bonds!!
Smoltz: Well, I've pitched to him before--
Reporter: Yes but not when he was about to BREAK THE HOME RUN RECORD!!
Smoltz: Right, I understand that--
Reporter: As a Brave, do you feel TOTALLY BETRAYED that Atlanta's most revered sports record is about to be broken?!
Smoltz: Well -- uh -- maybe you should talk to Huddy. He's pitching Tuesday, much more likely to have the record breaker hit off of him--
Reporter: /runs over to Huddy
Huddy: /gives Smoltz a dirty look
Smoltz: /smirks and runs for the bus
Reporter: TIM HUDSON HOW DOES IT FEEL--
Huddy: /holds up a hand
Huddy: I have prepared a statement.
Huddy: /pulls a piece of paper from his pocket
Huddy: /clears throat
Huddy: "No."
Reporters: /stare

Reporter: That's your statement?
Huddy: /nods
Huddy: /runs for the bus

Heap: /yawning
Reporter: Brian McCann!! What does it feel like to be taking part in this historic event??
Heap: /blinks
Heap: What?
Reporter: The home run record! Breaking!! Very possibly against YOUR TEAM!! You were just on the All-Star team with Bonds, HOW DOES THAT COMPLICATE THINGS?!
Reporter: /shoves microphone in his face
Heap: /looks around
Heap: Um. Is that a television camera?
Reporter: Yes! You're live on TV!!
Heap: /face goes red
Heap: Um, well, er
Frenchy: What he means to say that is he's very excited, but we still want to win! We don't want Bonds hitting any homers against us, nope! But we can still appreciate the gravity of this moment in history.
Reporter: /wipes tear
Reporter: That was beautiful! Are you the PR rep for the Braves?
Frenchy: I'm the rightfielder. But, yes. Please direct all questions to me.
Salty: /pops up behind Heap's shoulder, waving his arms toward the camera
Salty: OH MY GOD AM I ON TV???
Reporter: Er--yes.
Salty: HA!! SERIOUSLY?? HI MOM!! HI ASHLEY! CHECK IT OUT YOU GUYS I'M TOTALLY IN SAN FRANCISCO!! WHAT TIME IS IT THERE?? OK I'LL CALL YOU BYE!!

Reporter: /awkward silence
Heap and Frenchy: /run for the bus
Reporter: /turns to camera
Reporter: Ha! Well, as you can see, even the bat boys are excited!

~~

I hate that Buddy will probably pitch the last game of this series. I like him, and I don't want him to remembered as the guy who gave up 756 or what have you.

Thanks to Leah for the picture of Heap wearing his glasses. I'll treasure it always.

Okay, forget everything that just happened. Help has arrived.

~~

Last night, after 15 gruelling innings, the Braves slump back to the clubhouse while dark storm clouds gather over the stadium . . .

Heap: /limping
Ambiguous Davies: /crying
Frenchy: Wait, what?
Frenchy: I'm still confused.
Frenchy: Didn't I like, win that game? In the 10th?
Frenchy: /blinks
Frenchy: I mean -- what?
Heap: FRENCHY. Wake up, okay? We told you eighty times, Phillips caught your line drive!
Frenchy: Yeah, but -- but --

Salty: /slaps Heap on the shoulder
Salty: Damn, old man, I can't believe you hung in there for fifteen! I thought I was gonna have to take over and let Huddy play first! I have a new respect for you, gramps.
Heap: /stares
Heap: Get. Away from me.
Ambiguous Davies: /sniffling
Ambiguous Davies: What is going on?? Did I just -- did I just cost us another win?
Heap: Kyle, no --
Ambiguous Davies: I can't do anything right! I don't even know which Davies I am! Why was I pinch hitting?? What's going on?!?!
Scooter: You! How about me? I totally cost us the game with that error. I'm so sorry, you guys.

Frenchy: /blinks
Frenchy: OH MY GOD WAIT
Frenchy: DID WE JUST GET SWEPT BY THE REDS?!?

Heap: /smacks forehead
Salty: What, are the Reds bad or something?
Heap: /stares at Salty
Heap: Somebody get him away from me.
Salty: Geez, you guys sure are dramatic! Like who is that over there sulking in a corner? Get over it man, it's only one series!

Everyone looks up to see a cloaked figure sitting in the corner of the clubhouse . . .

Heap: Who is THAT?
Cloaked Figure: /stands
Cloaked Figure: It seems that I have returned just in time.
Cloaked Figure: /drops cloak

Andruw: Julio!! What are you doing here?
Heap: You'll blow your cover!
Julio: There is no more need for secrecy. All has gone according to plan.
Chipper: You mean -- ?!?
Julio: Yes. My undercover work with the Mets is done. I am a Brave again. And I have returned bearing much information.
Chipper: Thanks, dude, but we've actually been kicking the Mets' asses pretty well this season as is.
Julio: Yes, but there is much more work to be done in this clubhouse.
Andruw: What do you suggest, oh wise one?
Julio: First of all --
Julio: /points to Ambiguous Davies
Julio: Get this man to the bullpen.
Ambiguous Davies: /runs in that direction

Julio: And Frenchy, we need to talk.
Frenchy: Aw, are you gonna lecture me about my diet again? I have to eat nachos before home games, it's good luck.
Julio: No, we actually need to talk about David Wright.
Frenchy: DW? What about him?
Julio: Well . . . you know he has your poster hanging in his locker at Shea.
Frenchy: Oh, yeah, I know. He's president of my fan club! In fact, he founded it. He's really nice!
Julio: Um --

Salty: Hey! New guy!
Julio: Me?
Salty: Yeah, you! Matty just told me you play first base.
Julio: Yes, that's right.
Salty: Uhh, WELL, I don't know if you've HEARD, but there's a new sheriff in town when it comes to first base.
Julio: . . . What?
Salty: Yeah I pretty much kicked Thor to the curb and the position is mine. So don't even front.
Julio: Well . . . when I spoke to the organization they said they may start me at first base occasionally, but --
Salty: WHO TOLD YOU THAT -- hey wait a minute you're kind of old.
Julio: I am the oldest position player in Major League Baseball history, yes.
Salty: /stares
Salty: /stares
Salty: So like how old are we talking about?
Julio: I'm 48 years old.
Salty: /stares
Salty: /stares
Salty: OH
Salty: I GET IT!!
Salty: Ha ha, this is a practical joke, right?!?
Salty: Like, my rookie hazing?? 'Oh, Salty, we're gonna maybe platoon you with somebody's great grandfather,' ha ha, cause I'm always giving Scrooge McCann over there a hard time for being old?? I get it!! Hilarious, guys!

Julio: /stares
Heap: Yeah, just ignore him.

Salty: Oh man, who put you up to this?? It was Thor, right? Or Matty?
Salty: Whew!
Salty: Good one, guys, really good.
Salty: I'll have to tell Our Katy Temple about that one in my pre-game press tomorrow.
Salty: She'll love it -- another great S'lamacchia anecdote!
Salty: Ha.
Salty: Hilarious.

Salty: Wait, why does he have a locker? Did -- did you guys print up all those Franco jerseys just to prank me? Ha, good job, that's . . . that's very thorough . . .
Salty: I --
Salty: Oh.
Salty: But --
Salty: . . .

Salty: BOBBY! BOBBY! WHERE'S BOBBY?!
Salty: /runs through the clubhouse frantically
Salty: HEY BOBBY DONCHA THINK I SHOULD START AT CATCHER TOMORROW ON ACCOUNT A THE OLD MAN CAUGHT FIFTEEN TODAY AND ALL!?!?

~~

I wonder if Heap will have the the day off today -- it would make sense, except that it is HEAP DAY at the ballpark, in that they're giving out little statues of Heap tonight. I will of course be there as soon as the gates open, even though they for some reason left the Heap statues unpainted, so it won't match my Frenchy statue from last year. C'mon, promotions department, you gotta think this stuff through.

Well, it's official. The actual Salty saw startsalty.com on Sunday. Worlds have collided.

~~

Saturday, before the game, reporters are clustered around Salty near home plate, as usual. Frenchy, Heap and Scooter are in the outfield.

Frenchy: /stares at reporters
Frenchy: /kicks at the grass
Frenchy: What do you think they're talking about?
Heap: Huh? Who?
Frenchy: You know, the press. And him.
Heap: Oh, I don't know. The deadline is coming up, they're probably asking him if he's afraid he'll be traded.
Frenchy: You would love that, right?!
Heap: Eh, I don't really mind if he stays.
Frenchy: But -- well -- Scoot, you probably wish they'd get rid of him, huh?
Scooter: No, why would I?
Frenchy: Cause, like, these rookies, man! With their big heads! Thinking they can steal all the attention -- I mean, our jobs! Such as yours at second!
Scooter: /glares
Scooter: Yeah, well. Nobody's stealing YOUR job. So what do you care?
Frenchy: I don't! Totally don't! I just feel bad for you guys!
Frenchy: So. Uh. I'm gonna go -- get some water.

Frenchy: /jogs over toward the gathered press

Salty: /pulls back sleeve for reporters
Salty: Ya'll seen my tattoo yet?
Cameras: /flash wildly
Salty: /grins
Salty: It says, "Salty."
Cameras: /still flashing

Frenchy: /stands on tiptoes
Frenchy: I almost got a tattoo once!!
Frenchy: Yeah, it was crazy! It was my twenty-first birthday, and we'd been, you know, celebrating, and I was gonna get a big tattoo of Scooby Doo on my back to commemorate the occasion! But Heap said I was in no state to make that kind of decision, and I would regret it! For a long time I thought he was right, but--

Reporters: /ignore Frenchy
Katy Temple: So, Salty, how comfortable do you feel at first base?
Salty: First base! Pssh!
Salty: /flicks hand dismissively
Salty: On a scale of one to ten?
Salty: I am a thousand percent comfortable.
Reporters: /write furiously on notepads

Frenchy: I am totally comfortable in right, by the way, Katy!
Frenchy: Just in case you were wondering!

Katy Temple: /ignores Frenchy
Katy Temple: Salty, do you realize you're on pace to contend for Rookie of the Year?
Salty: Oh I thought I already won that.

~~

Later, during the rain delay:

Frenchy: /sits in the dugout, moping.
Heap: Hey, what are you doing out here? The game won't restart for awhile -- don't you want to come play Connect Four with everyone?
Frenchy: Not even Connect Four could cheer me up right now.
Heap: What the hell's wrong?
Frenchy: You wouldn't understand.
Heap: Wha -- hey, look.
Heap: /points to giant TV screen
Heap: They're showing that TV show they made about you. The one where you didn't even mention me once.
Frenchy: /looks up, grinning
Frenchy: Those were the good old days, Heap. Reporters at my house, following me around everywhere. I couldn't even go to the grocery store without getting my picture taken! God, I didn't know how good I had it! I --
Frenchy: /turns around
Frenchy: Heap?

Heap: /returns from the clubhouse, with half the team following
Heap: Check it out, guys.
Heap: /points up to the screen
Heap: He talks about crying like, five times.
Huddy: /sits down to watch
Frenchy: Hey, um, c'mon guys, this is kind of -- between me and my fans.
Huddy: /stares
Huddy: Tell one of the rookies to make us some popcorn.

~~

After Frenchy is humiliated thoroughly, the game resumes . . .

Frenchy: /walk-off hit in the bottom of the ninth
Heap: YAYYYY
Heap: /punches the crap out of him, fun-lovingly

Katy Temple: Oh my God, how are you so awesome?!
Frenchy: I don't know, I just am!!
Cameras: /flash wildly

~~

The next morning, the players arrive for the Sunday afternoon game . . .

Reporters: Frenchy! Frenchy!
Frenchy: /big grin
Frenchy: Yes?
Reporters: Have you heard?? The big news??
Frenchy: Big news! No, I just rolled out of bed five minutes ago. Did -- someone get traded??
Frenchy: /looks around for Salty
Mark Bradley: /produces laptop
Mark Bradley: No, nobody got traded. But check this out.
Laptop: /startsalty.com

Mark Bradley: I mean that's pretty awesome right.
Frenchy: Ughhhhhh, yeah.
Frenchy: I've actually seen that before.
Mark Bradley: People sure love Salty.
Frenchy: . . . Yeah.

Salty: /walks in
Salty: Hey! Where's the lineup?
Salty: /reads
Salty: CATCHER! YESSS!!!!
Salty: /runs over to Heap
Salty: Did you hear I'm starting at catcher!!!?!?
Heap: /stares
Heap: Yes.
Salty: My, how the tables have turned!!!
Heap: It's just one start. Hey, they're talking about your website over there.
Salty: Psssh, when aren't people talking about my website?

Bobby: /walks over to reporters
Bobby: What's all this commotion?
Mark Bradley: I was just showing the guys this great fan-created website.
Mark Bradley: Check out this hilarious satirical picture of you and Scott Thorman!
Mark Bradley: It's obviously a joke about the fate of the Titanic!

Bobby: /stares
Bobby: /stares
Bobby: /stares
Bobby: SALTY

Salty: Yo, boss, how's it hanging?
Bobby: What the hell is this?
Bobby: /points to laptop
Salty: What -- OH SH--

Salty: I mean, um.
Salty: I have no idea!
Salty: Don't look at me!
Salty: I don't even know how to turn a computer on!
Salty: Ha, I mean who does, am I right?!
Salty: Nerds, maybe!
Salty: And I am obviously not one of those!

Bobby: /stares
Bobby: /shrugs
Bobby: /walks off

Salty: . . .
Salty: I'm still starting, though, right?

~~

What I wouldn't give to have been in the dugout while they were all watching The Frenchy Show on the jumbotron. Also, there had better be a Heap Show forthcoming, and for that matter, a Salty Show.