The Orioles used to have a slugging first baseman, name of Lee May, a good guy to have on the field and in the clubhouse, by all accounts. He had a way of keeping things on an even keel, so when ace pitcher Jim Palmer started bellyaching about his contract one day, according to legend, Lee said, "Did they ever catch that guy?"
Palmer walked right into it by saying, "What guy?"
"The guy who held the gun to your head and forced you to sign the contract!"
I was thinking of that byplay today while attempting to wedge a one-gallon bottle of orange juice out of a spot large enough for a pint in the dairy cooler at the Giant across from work. The guy who worked there said,"You must be a Yankee fan!" as he slid the bottle sideways and then tilted it back like a Russian gymnast, eventually freeing it with the use of a jackhammer and some other handy equipment. They just have to keep those shelves jammed up!
No, I am not a Yankee fan, been an Orioles fan all my days and this current suck-season doesn't bother me a-tall, because I just imagine life in a town without baseball, and it feels so much better to have a team, even if they aren't exactly great.
But. I'm about 1/5 of the way into reading Pat Benatar's autobiography "Between a Heart and a Rock Place" (I cannot take her to task for the pun-nish title, can I now?) and already she's carping about this and that. She dressed up pretty for herself, you see, not to please her audience or to sell more records and concert tickets. It was just for herself and then the nasty record company, in between cutting her checks for untold sums of money, told her to keep dressing up pretty! Can you imagine?
People go into show business because they like to entertain people and look good while doing it, and then they find themselves being forced to entertain people while looking good doing it and being paid beaucoup bucks!
And then those monsters at the record company were always after her to write more songs and make more records so that they could pay her more money! Oh the ineffable horror! Those bastards want to make me a millionaire!
I was talking to a good friend at work the other day, a lady whose husband is a steel worker "down the Point," which is how we say that someone is employed at the old Bethlehem Steel factory in Sparrows Point. She told me that the other day at work he had to climb on top of a boiler and weld something back together, and right above him was some sort of heat exhaust vent that kept him right toasty, one may be sure. That's a tough job in this type of weather. It's a tough job in any type of weather. But there is one tougher: rock star.
So I'mma keep reading this book to find out if they caught the guy who forced Pat Benatar to become a rock and roll legend and very wealthy in the process. If she names his name, I want him arrested and brought before Judge Judy at once.