Sorry for the lack of posting the past two days, but work duties forced me to miss Saturday and Sunday's games. Last night seemed like yet another run of the mill night for Keith, except for his claim that people strain their oblique muscles because they do sit-ups ("I never did a sit-up in my life"). Gary -- like many times over the past two months -- tried egging him on to even more absurd heights to no avail. And the opening where Keith just made it to the booth because he had to change a flat tire was pretty fantastic. Alas, I left my Keith notebook at home so I don't have the complete transcription.
I also wanted to say that this would be my last post for a week--I'm off for vacation in the land of breakfast tacos, tremendous BBQ and great tunes (even though today's White Stripes cancellation is a bummer, there's still a lot to see). I hope by the time I return to the Zisk blog, the magic number will be down to 8.
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Last night, Keith made like a Roman emperor in the late innings, tossing Tootsie-Pops into the crowd. Keith seems to have this kind of two-way Pavlovian deal going with the fans (the five or six intellectuals left in the bottom of the 8th of the blowout)-- they yell at him, he throws the pops. They yell more, rinse, repeat.
I don't know, Keith. You know what happens with those bears in Yellowstone. Before you know it, they're swmming in your pool. Gary once said it about the pitchers in the Phillies bullpen: Don't feed the animals. :P
Before that, Keith confided that someone down below the booth was "borracho (drunk)." The guys' Spanish continue to impress, with Ronnie observing someone getting hit in the culo on Monday night. Those classes with Professor Reyes are really playing off.
Guys, tough loss to Philly last night, but I thought you'd still want to know some highlights from Keith Hernandez Mustache Night.
It was a glorious occasion, just as you'd think. People of all races, colors, creeds, ages and genders-- and well, species, too (remember it was also Dog Night) paying tribute to the Stache! It was inspiring.
Prominently flaunting the Stache was Kevin Burkhardt's tiny blond infant son, Logan. ;)
The best moment was a shot of the booth, when Gary pumped Ron for a fine analytical point, which Ron provided with his usual earnestness-- both were wearing a Stache and flawless deadpan, while the man of the hour was dissolving in giggles.
Ron threw it back: "What do you think, Keith?"
Keith: "I didn't hear a word you said."
Gary: "You know, I've often wondered how it feels."
The survey of the dogs in the bleachers was fun, too-- they ranged from Chihuahuas to Great Danes, lots in Mets gear. As on the last dog day, our hosts marveled at the well-behaved pups, and reflected why they wouldn't bring their own dogs.
"I wanted to bring Dunkie," Keith said, "but he's such a big dog, and he'd get overstimulated. A hundred pound dog, getting overstimulated, and Kai having to deal with him."
Erm, no comment.
The camera went around the stands and picked out 'stache wearers througout the evening. Of one, Keith offered, "His girlfriend looks happy!"
Ron, in the tone of someone who has heard something before: "Oh, don't even go there!"
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