16 October 2007

KingCast applauds theSpirit of Louis Sockalexis as the Tribe goes up 3-1 on Red Sox..

At 3 games to 1, my team from Cleveland with the racist mascot -- that in no way resembles the original professed homage to our first pitcher -- is puttin' down some serious palm prints, eh? Extinction looms large for the Bosox and I love it. I know Cousin Mike has no love lost for Boston either but I did root them on Big Time in NYC when they came back to whup the Yankees! Anybody but the Yankees I say, even though Joe McCarthy's offspring and some friends of mine used to rip them dirt bikes around and wreak major havoc in Shaker Heights but that's a whole 'nother story :)

OldschoolYamahamotorsports will take you there, waaa, waaa, waaaah....[shit eatin' grins and lots of dirt!]

I didn't quite grasp who the heck I was hanging out with at the time as my parents were spending every last cent they had to put me in prep school whereas it was No Big Deal to some of them, but it sure is a trip to figure that out as time moves on because I was always raised to believe I could achieve great things, just like the rich boys and girls.

Isn't that what America is all about?

Anyway, as a little league pitcher and 1/16 Cherokee sorta fella' way back when Dennis Eckersley was on the mound Louis was my idol; I knew the story that the "Indians" don't give a damn about anymore; they won't even license the old logos for hats that some of us would wear proudly.

This commentary is about what it means to support the troops but not the war or the President, in a sports kinda' way.

Relevant Background



John Ettorre said...

Glad to learn you haven't succumbed to becoming a Red Sox fan, despite living in the middle of Red Sox Nation. One more and we're on to the Rockies.

Christopher King said...

Great to hear from you brother.

Watching Game 5 tomorrow in CT with Mom, Sis and the nieces :)

Will holler at Dad too on telly.

Don't know when I'll make it back to the land of Cleves, but when I do you and me gotta go have a beer at the Erie Street Cemetery.

For those who don't know John, here's a bit.

KingCast blawg

John Ettore blog.

John if I don't holler as much as I would like, obviously you see I'm just flat out.

Namaste to you, Roldo and Bill.

Anonymous said...

For Liko.

Who Will Cry for the Little Boy?

Who will cry for the little boy?
Lost and all alone.
Who will cry for the little boy?
Abandoned without his own?

Who will cry for the little boy?
He cried himself to sleep.
Who will cry for the little boy?
He never had for keeps.

Who will cry for the little boy?
He walked the burning sand.
Who will cry for the little boy?
The boy inside the man.

Who will cry for the little boy?
Who knows well hurt and pain.
Who will cry for the little boy?
He died again and again.

Who will cry for the little boy?
A good boy he tried to be.
Who will cry for the little boy?
Who cries inside of me?

author: Antoine Fisher

Christopher King said...

Ahhh, Antoine/Antwone Fisher, from Cleveland, Ohio actually.

I would love to meet him.

The night I saw that movie with Martha (scroll to bottom) (oh my gosh what, 5 years ago) her van got boosted. We couldn't believe someone would steal a Dodge Caravan (the old school style no less) but indeed they did.

When she got it back there were some personal effects in it and the rear view mirror had been busted off and appeared dusty so she threw it in the trash and waited for the repair shop to fix the car.

Later that day.....

One of her dogs Maya got ahold of an oppossum (I can never spell that right) and she thought it was dead so threw it in the trash as well.

Next day she opens up the trash can and gets the shock of her life as the little nasty critter hops up at her.

Come to find out the "dirt" on the rear view mirror was cocaine residue and the possum must have got ahold of it because you could see lick marks on it from a tiny tongue.

So I guess coke adds life, or at least helps you play oppossum.

A true story.

Who could make that up, anyway :)