Living Retired — ‘Spitting, Scratching, & Slopping’

Living Retired — ‘Spitting, Scratching, & Slopping’

By Gary Chalk.

“There, he did again Gary! The batter is standing at home plate in a baseball stadium packed with 40,000 spectators. Millions more are watching on national television. And what does he do? He spits!”

“Jan, it’s baseball. It’s part of Americana.”

The Blue Jays are playing the New York Yankees. Jan and I are part of the millions watching on television. It’s good that our beer doesn’t cost $20. On the other hand, we see close-ups of the players spitting.

As Aaron Judge comes up, the television camera catches the catcher lifting his mask to spit.

“Gary, that is so gross. I wonder what his wife makes of it?”

“I don’t think she cares, Jan. He gets paid lots of money to do it.”

“What, he gets paid to spit?”

Jan suggested, “Well Gary, if that’s the case, the pitcher should throw him a spitball.”

“Jan, you aren’t allowed to throw a spitball. You can spit. You just can’t throw a spitball.”

Judge smacked a long fly ball that is caught in the outfield. The next batter up steps to the plate.

“Gary, now did you see that? Look where he is scratching himself! Now the catcher is scratching himself too! They are grown men! What’s with that?”

“Next Gary, you’re going to tell me they get paid lots of money to scratch themselves. That’s nuts!”

Before the next pitch, the batter repeats his routine: he tightens the Velcro on his batters’ gloves, adjusts his batting helmet, takes a few practice swings, and then he reaches down and scratches himself again.

“Gary, if the batter is allowed to scratch himself, the pitcher should throw him a scratch ball.”

“Jan, there is no such thing as a scratch ball. Scratch balls is what batters get to do.”

This time, the batter hit a single to left field and is standing at first base.

“Gary, why is the Blue Jays first baseman Vladimir Guerrero smiling and talking to the runner? He is on the opposing team. What sport allows its players to fraternize with each other?”

“And Gary, don’t tell me it is because baseball is a part of Americana! They don’t talk nice to each other in the United States Congress. Maybe if they carried baseball bats, spit, and scratched themselves President Biden would finally get to first base and get something done.”

I know Jan likes the tight pants baseball player’s wear. But a television closeup showed the runner at first base with a small circle in his pants back pocket. “What’s that?”

“Jan, that is a tin of tobacco. They chew it, then spit it out.”

“Gary, that is sooo gross. If they didn’t chew tobacco they wouldn’t have to spit. And their wife would allow them to kiss them.”

The game we are watching is Loonie Hot Dog Night at the Rogers Centre. The fans are taking advantage and buying hot dogs for a buck! Even Buck Martinez the colour analyst on the broadcast is into the act posing before the television cameras with a hot dog loaded with mustard.

“Gary, why is it that Buck can eat a hotdog without slopping mustard all over his shirtsleeves? When you come home from the ballpark you have bight yellow mustard dribbling all down your pants!”

“Jan, the mustard comes in little itty-bitty packages that you have to rip open with your teeth while you hold your plastic cup of beer between your knees. The mustard squirts down your shirt. It’s baseball. It’s part of Americana.”

Jan groaned, “Gary, you need to mustard the art of eating hot dogs.”

I groaned.

 

Living Retired is written by humour columnist Gary Chalk.

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