Random Sunday Story

Good Evening all! I apologize for the late blog post and I also apologize for it being a solo post this evening. However there is an excellent reason to why Lisa is writing by herself tonight.  Our little Serena that we all know and love is graduating tonight from YTT (Yoga teacher training). It has been three long months for her but tonight all her hard work and sleepless nights have paid off and she will be a certified yoga instructor. Can I get a HOORAH a HIP HIP HOORAY! I know she will be an awesome Jedi yoga instructor because she got me to into Crow pose and that my friend is not an easy task. Google it and you will see for yourself what it looks like. Congratulations to Serena and her fellow YTT colleagues.

Now onto somewhat baseball related stuff and I use stuff vaguely. I am going to use this  post to tell you a funny story about Papa L and his trip to Macy’s during the holiday season. I swear this story has a baseball theme to it so just be patient with it. My poor father got dragged to Macy’s on Saturday during the best time of the year and I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible. He is stuck waiting for my mother who is shopping and trying on clothes at a glacier rate. While he is waiting he strikes up a conversation with another lucky man who is waiting for his wife. Papa L tells the man how much he hates shopping with his wife and that this should be a form of torture that they use to get spies to talk. If anyone knows my father he will talk to a Johnny pump if it would listen. My father then sighs and proceeds to start a rant to a complete stranger “I hate the winter. I can’t wait for baseball to start. I’m a Met fan. They make horrible business moves. What’s with this pitcher they signed? He is SO old AND overweight. For god sake I should just try out.” I truly feel for this man that is listening to my father and I give this man a shit tone of credit for not getting up and walking away. I mean I have no choice but to listen to him he’s my father but you sir could of just smiled and walked away. Kudos to you.  That was your good deed for the year put it in the karma books. Back to this baseball related story. The man turns to my father and tells him “My son is in the Mets farm system he is a catcher.” Probably one of the worst things this man could have said because I am sure my father went on and on and on. Needless to say when it was time for the two of them to part ways the wife of the man pulled out a Topps baseball card wrapped in plastic of their son and gave it to my dad. Papa L could not wait to tell me his story that I share with you and the entire world. Let it be known if Mr. Camden Maron becomes a Mets sensation or a golden boy for another team in the MLB you heard it first on this blog that Papa L met this boy’s parents at Macy’s. Furthermore if Camden happens to come across this blog post I encourage him to send tickets my way. I mean after all our father’s are now besties. Only Papa L this would happen too. Now only if he had bumped into TWOSNBN parents. *Sigh*

Hope you enjoyed the little tale I tell. Don’t forget to check back next week when we do our annual rendition of a holiday song. Maybe if you guys are good we will sing it in our Celine Dion like voices and post a video of it. I can’t make promises so don’t hold me to it. 

-Lisa 

Serena's Random Musings

I spent the entire weekend in yoga teacher training, as I have done every other weekend since September 15th. The experience has been fulfilling, but exhausting. For someone who doesn't sleep well to begin with (I get about 2-4 hours each night), it's tough to physically and mentally dedicate time to blogging with Lisa during the YTT weekends. As you may have noticed, this has resulted in either Lisa taking the reins or us simply skipping the blog altogether during these particular weekends. I offered to take responsibility for this week's post to ease the load from Lisa's plate, but having only gotten roughly 6 total hours of sleep since Friday, the prospect of crafting a well-thought out blog after coming home from the yoga studio tonight was rather unappealing. Lisa assured me that I didn't have to do it. We could just skip a blog post this week and pick things back up again next weekend. Initially, I was okay with that decision. However, after showering, I did feel a little guilty about posting a "I'm sorry that I'm so tired, maybe next week" Facebook post.

Now here we are.

I am not going to promise an in-depth look at this week in baseball or even an in-depth look at a particular topic that strikes my fancy. I am not going to even promise you a sexy blog post filled with flowery prose and fancy "SAT" words that may or may not require you to Google their meanings. I am too tired and spent for any of that and truth be told, in 45 minutes, I plan on ending my night decompressing while rubbing Arnica gel on my knee and watching the newest episode of The Walking Dead. I am simply going to give you my thoughts on what interested me this week. Basic. To the best of my ability. You'll have to forgive me if this post does not live up to your expectations, however by this point in our blog-reader relationship, you really should only have limited expectations in regards to what we produce here.

Here we go:
1. Ken Griffey Jr.'s Instagram account. If you have Instagram, I recommend you follow him @therealkengriffeyjr. Aside from the fact that you'll be following one of baseball's greatest gifts, his posts are pure gold. He doesn't post often, but there's nothing fake about any of them and his "Throw Back Thursday" pictures alone are worth the follow. Hair and sweaters, people. Hair and sweaters. That's all I have to say.
2. Miguel Cabrera & the AL MVP Award. I suppose that his season's numbers dictate that he deserved to win the award, but having owned Cabrera this year in one of my fantasy leagues, I can attest to the fact that he spent an awful lot of time not playing due to injury. I'm not implying that these injuries weren't legitimate. I'm simply saying that since Mike Trout was physically capable of contributing more time and effort to his team, that he a) increased his likelihood in "failing" due to more opportunity (which would then lead to lower overall numbers) and b) was a more reliable asset to his team. I think reliability is more important that overall numbers. I do not think that numbers always tell the full story. Sure, perhaps if Cabrera is healthy all season, he still blows Trout out of the water, but also maybe if Cabrera is healthy, the Tigers don't lose to the Red Sox in the postseason. Maybe the Tigers go to the World Series. Maybe they don't. We'll never know. I just think that his inconsistent availability should have been taken into consideration when selecting the MVP.
3. The Rookie of the Year Award. I think that winning this award can be misleading. Some players are like shooting stars. They are bright, beautiful, breathtaking, but also impermanent, fleeting. They start with a loud, brilliant bang like a firework, but then fail to repeat that success ever again. They become a disappointment to their local fan base and to fantasy owners, whereas elsewhere, the country shifts its attention to a new rising star. The former is forgotten. Granted, this doesn't happen to every Rookie of the Year, but it happens enough that I feel like this award doesn't hold weight. Or at least shouldn't hold the weight that it currently does. Why did this player have such a successful season? Is it that he's the real deal or because he's new and opposing teams haven't quite figured him out yet? Is it a combination of both of these factors? The fact is that we won't know the answer to these questions until their sophomore or even their junior effort. I think instead of a Rookie of the Year, the MLB should institute a Sophomore of the Year. That opens so many more avenues. Think of how some players mature in their second, third year (or on the flip side, think of how some players' development stall). The maturation process is where the magic happens. Think of how an erratic Randy Johnson became...well, Randy Johnson.
4. Brian Wilson's beard. Enough is enough. Shave the f*cking thing. Trim it back. Wax. Do something. To walk away from a job opportunity like pitching for the Yankees (or any team, to be quite frank) because of some creepy emotional attachment to the bush growing on your face is a sign of some kind of deep seeded issue. Or perhaps an obsession with 1970's porn. I don't know. I do know that if I lived with Brian Wilson, I'd shave half of it while he slept so that he'd have no choice but to deal with it. Though even that might not provoke action because based on the beard's current condition, it's obvious that he doesn't care about looking like a total a-hole.

That is all for this evening. Next week you'll have us together again for a joint blog post.

-Serena