Home Run Derby...

So, I went riding again tonight. I was able to do almost fourteen miles. Was very stiff when I started. After a couple of minutes I loosened up a little, but never got terribly comfortable. My legs were so dead when I finished that I had a hard time getting off the bike. Also, the new saddle isn't quite broken in yet, so my butt hurts. Que sera. Still glad I forced myself to do it, because I do need to get back into a regular routine. Tomorrow is supposed to be thunderstormy, so I can recuperate for Wednesday.

Now I'm having a beer, mocking the Home Run Derby over at the Griddle, and otherwise communing with my inner turnip, serene in the knowledge that at least they don't determine the winner of the World Series with one of these things.

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Bill Mazeroski threw out the first pitch of the HRD, and still looks good. His home run to win the '60 Series is my earliest memory of baseball. I still wonder sometimes how I wound up a fan of the Dodgers and not the Pirates.

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David Wright has a potty mouth. He also made a brilliant choice in having Paul Lo Duca (a catcher) pitch to him. Paulie lobbed in pitches like he was throwing it underhanded, and Wright just crushed 'em.

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All you need to know about international soccer is that the best player in the world managed to get himself ejected from the World Cup championship game for head butting an opponent. His team went on to lose, in part because he wasn't there to take a penalty shot (what a stupid way to run a railroad). Afterwards, he was voted MVP. Imbécile.