Having lost my bile depository over the weekend*, I thought that I could enter this week well disposed to everyone. But I guess the lack-of-goodwill kind of bile is metaphorical, because I seem to have plenty.
I had originally written a longish thing about Marcell Ozuna, but I’m shelving it. Instead, I want to take on an evergreen topic: Chip Caray. And I’m not going to focus on all the things I’ve talked about before, like (a) his inability to use his voice to tell people not at the game how well a ball is hit; (b) his frankly idiotic views on pitch selection; (c) his self-deprecation as a defense mechanism; (d) his total focus as the fifth inning ends on the pitcher win; (e) his ownership of baseball (“our game”); (f) his maniacal anticipation of every potential double play and home run opportunity, all prefaced with the verbal tic that drives me and no one else up the wall – “Let’s see if…”; (g) his disdain for “three true outcome baseball” combined with a celebration of every Braves homer and walk at the plate and pitcher’s strikeout; (h) his latest decision that pitchers aren’t throwing enough fastballs without a scintilla of interesting data to back that up; (i) the hackneyed pseudo-catchphrases (“Right man at the right time” “thank you very much”, etc, etc.