We hesitate to link to this because it only emphasizes our own inadequacies as “writers”, but that would be an injustice to you.
Slate’s Robert Weintraub, like many of us, loves the old purple prose of early 1900s sportswriting, the Grantland Rices, the men who painted epic tales of warriors, grizzled combatants and lardywarks too manly to wear gloves. In an occasional series, Weintraub writes about the week’s best baseball game in the style of the vaunted sportswriters of yesteryear. This week: The Rays’ win last night over the A’s.
The entire piece can be found HERE, but here is an excerpt. We also highly recommend reading the original piece out loud as if you were perched on a chair and several children sit on the floor in front of you.
After a duo of spine-snapping heartbreakers to Middle America’s Team while the nation took a break from toil, the tweeners from Tampa celebrated being on the side that didn’t surrender its colors after an epic struggle. It is a leap of Knievalesque proportions to proffer that these base balling elasmobranches are a threat for Octoberfest, much less make it to the Last Banquet of Fall. Given their persistent ineptitude since inception, however, it is gladdening to witness a potent heartbeat from the downtrodden Sunshine Boys. The Renaissance comes after shedding any Beelzebub overtones from the franchise. Coincidence? More like an exorcism. Getting first choice from the larder has stocked the spread with an epicurean’s delight of prime beef talents—and even more, like David “The Vandy Vapor Trail” Price, await promotion to the First Battalion from the reserve corps on the farm. Optimism Unbound in Tampa—if this keeps up, one will have to acknowledge the presence of another Crack Committee of Base Ball People in the region, one that has no Steinbrennerian affiliation.
If you read nothing else today, please read this. You will be smarter for it and an eloquently written piece on a Rays Win may help us through the doldrums of having to wait almost 50 hours until the next Rays’ contest with the taint of yesterday’s game still very fresh in our minds.
Latina Mary Pickford, First Lady Of The Cagers [Deadspin]