oh, no! it's P-BAU

Okay, I hate The Yankees.  I feel like they represent a good portion of what’s unhealthy about professional sports.  However, I am oddly and quietly rooting for them.

Well, not them.  Only one of their players.

Mariano Rivera was injured chasing a ball during batting practice.  He was going for a ball for no real reason that I can think of except he was having fun.

Like I said, I hate The Yankees.  Watching them lose is a source of pleasure for me.  Rivera, though, is like the Priest Vallon to my Bill the Butcher.  An enemy to be respected and beat on the field of play.

I mean, it’s sports.  None of it really matters.  The guy’s rich and is already a first ballot hall of famer.  I find it odd that I’d feel bad for anyone with that much money.

Money can’t buy happiness though, can it?  Aside from the fame, the accolades, and the rings, playing professional baseball has got to be pretty happy making.  To have it pulled out from under you when you least expect it must hurt.  Well, my empathy and I are feeling it.

The man was an absolute nightmare on the mound.  A terrifying vision of resolve and skill.  He looked like an other-worldly demigod sent here to punish the fevered egos and juiced bats. It’s not until you see him after the game that you can tell that he’s human.

He is human.  He’s also so awesome that even I hope that he heals up quickly and fully.  I hope he comes back next year and saves every game he’s put into.  Sorry.  I just do.

My first picks for my future children’s names.

Girl: Beatrix

Boy: Bort (Possibly Bortrick)

Sorry.

There’s a young man named Jack Jablonsky who was paralyzed playing hockey here in the Twin Cities. It’s heartbreaking but this guy is a mega stud.  Everything I hear speaks well of his attitude in dealing with the situation. So, we held a fundraiser for him and his family, last night. (Not that we wouldn’t have if he were a dick or something. It’s just fun to mention that he’s not.)

I hosted the event because people at the club in New Hope are, apparently, addicted to my emcee skillz.  I don’t think I’m that amazing of an emcee, especially in New Hope!  It’s the suburbs!

When you go up first at New Hope, everyone is still eating food and they tend to be remarkably unfocused.  Sometimes it’s better, sometimes, it’s worse.

I’ve headlined the club as well.  (It’s twenty minutes away, I founded the room, and turned it over to my dad’s cute little comedy group to book it. so, yeah, I’m in.) When I did headline, I got complaints from dumb people who didn’t understand the words coming out of my mouth.

Hey, I’ll take complaints.  Just yesterday, a buddy had to explain why my sets at a special event last year was unfuckingacceptable.  I heeded his words and started prepping myself to do a better job at the event this year.  People in new Hope just tend to be uptight and a little stupid, at times.

Anyway, after the fundraiser, insane amounts of people took time to tell me how funny they thought I was.  This floored me because, as an emcee, your job isn’t necessarily to be all that funny.  Your job is to get the crowd to stop yakking and pay attention.

What was the difference?  Why did this crowd of people watch the likes of Jeff Cesario, Dave Mordal, and even my old man, then come out of it thinking I’m funny?  These guys are insanely good.  They’ve been doing it forever and have experienced successes that I’ve only dreamed of.

I think I figured it out.  The people at this show went out of their way to go out on a Sunday night, pay more than twice the regular ticket price, and even donate more cash to a worthy cause.  They were good people.

I’d love to think that high quality people would tend to enjoy my comedy more than your average suburban scumbag.  I’m going to tell myself that’s what went down because I could really use the ego boost.

That’s all.  I’ll bet you thought this was going to be funny and well written.  Joke’s on you, sucker!