Sitting in the sun to get tan never made any sense to me; maybe the most boring thing known to humankind. But I once fell asleep in the sun. I got burned real bad.
Mom put aloe gels all over my shoulder and back and promised the skin would soon peel and everything would feel better. That only made it worse. I refused to take a bath for an entire week because I knew my skin would slip off my bones and race down the bathtub drain. I knew without a doubt that I would disappear.
I had faith; a messed up faith, a faith guided by fear, but it was a faith. I was also afraid of sea weed or algae or whatever lurks under the surface of lake water and suddenly comes in contact with our legs after we brave the cold water and dive in. They forced me at summer camp to get in the water, but if they wouldn’t have, I would have never gone in.
The fear was real and legends about lake monsters were way more than legends. They were real possibilities. I was also afraid of the Russian Olive Tree outside my bedroom window. During mild wind spikes, its branches whipped against the window and I swear that tree stump moaned, groaned, and whistled. I had nightmares and woke up in the middle of the night screaming,
I had my reasons for all my fears and there was nothing anyone could say or do to convince me otherwise; not even my mom and her unforgettable devotion to make pain disappear. And yet somehow, those fears mellowed out a bit or disappeared completely, but it only seems that way thanks or no thanks to logic hijacking the front of my mind.
The tree was eventually cut down, but not completely amputated; not in my mind anyway. I still don’t sit in the sun and I always cake my flesh with sun screen. I still think about lake monsters before diving in, but all the fears seem quieter and the imagination a little duller. And we call that maturity and growing up; age of enlightenment, science, reason, progress……? Hogwash!
I love it when a pitcher has no right to dominate a league, a team, or a batter; no scientific right at all. All the stat sheets and sabermetric wisdom and even the instincts of baseball;s greatest minds say “highly improbable” and then Tyson Ross has more quality starts-21 than Clayton Kershaw-19.
But no one cares. No one is afraid of the Padres; not on the Brewers and not anyone anywhere in baseball; but Tyson Ross is 6’5″ and 225 pounds, attended Berkeley in California, drafted by Oakland, traded by Oakland.
He’s only allowed 147 hits in 181 innings this year. struck out 176, opponents batting average is .224 a 1.17 WHIP and so on and so forth; 12 wins and 12 losses. That’s the gold right there…24 decisions. I toss the other numbers out the window and roll around with 12 and 12 and dream of what he’s maybe done.
Or maybe it’s a 7 and 7 I’m longing for, maybe, but the 12 and 12 does the trick. Ross has probably made every one of his starts. One thing’s for sure. He’s tied for the league lead with 28 games started; third most wins, second most losses and most decisions with 24.
He won’t catch the all time record of 34 decisions set by Lamar Hoyt in 1982 as a White Sox, but the the list is impressive. The 33 club includes Tom Seaver, Luis Tiant, Bob Welch and 32 club has Fernando on it.
San Diego is hitting .226 as a team this year; by far the worst in all of baseball; also the lowest on base percentage and fewest runs scored. And the Padres were 7 for 32 last night; good for a .218 average or bad but they still scored 4 runs Tuesday night-Wednesday morning; San Diego, east coast. I was asleep.
I woke up at 2:30 AM for no known reason; turned on the TV and read the baseball scores stock market scroll at the bottom of the page; Padres up 4 dow jones; brewers crashing at 1. That was followed by the pitching line; Ross pitched 6.1 innings; his record of 12-12 in parentheses, someone named Almonte hit a home run and then the game all rolled away replaced by NBA trades. I went back to bed.
The Brewers are 73-59.