Adam faces another unfamiliar face, Perez, but Adam is feeling friendly. Instead of hitting 5 ding-a-longs at once, Adam settles for a walk.
Hello world! says the man-child's beaming face.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
9th Plate Appearance
Adam has eaten his favorite cookie - a Chewy Charlie - and is feeling much better. His step to the batter's box has the undeniable bounce of a boy's. What is this mind of man!
8th Plate Appearance
The residents of Cleavy-land have fled the stands. Nobody gives a shit.
Ozymandias has consoled the troubled Achilles. "Jus' heet dee ball, man." Says he, in a charming Spaniolo trill. Adam nods, steps into the batter's box, and lays Thunderhammerbat against his shoulder.
A slider. A changeup. A ball crushed to right field and caught by ... Choo? Choo? Choo? Where am I? WHERE AM I GODDAMMIT! Adam calls to heaven. He weeps.
7th Plate Appearance
existential crisis
"So", says big-butted Adam. "I have received a ball. Now I have received a strike." Does this mean? Does it change my life or others, or is it but a pebble in a flowing river of events?
While Adam contemplates, home plate umpire Fatty says "ball four" and our pained centerpiece shuffles to first.
6th Plate Appearance
Adam digs in for a long at bat. Yoiks! Not so!
He grounds out, but sends a black pixie to the plate - a Ribbie Dibbie. The Sox of Chicagoland congratulate our hero. Just smile and nod, Adam. Smile and fucking nod.
5th Plate Appearance
The sound and the fury, signifying nothing, has ebbed. Adam slept the night in a new home, in a new bed, with a new sexual liason. His mind is clear, his body primed. THUNDERHAMMERBAT is warm to this man-god's familiar touch.
A small man - Stumpy? - is at first. Adam dozes for a few pitches, then knocks a single to right.
The blood of the Norse surges through Adam's veins. BETTER TO HAVE DIED IN BATTLE, says he.
Friday, April 1, 2011
4th Plate Appearance
In Doctor Fausto's absence, Justin Germano climbs the honorable mound. Yea, he steps with honor to the cloud-darkened rubber, where once--
whoops! Adam swung at the first pitch and lobbed it to center field. The Indians defense barely makes the catch.
Ozymandias tells Adam he's through for the day. Some bozo will pinch-designated-hit the rest of this game.
Well, now, what could a blonde beast do with an empty dugout and no more at-bats?
FIE!
whoops! Adam swung at the first pitch and lobbed it to center field. The Indians defense barely makes the catch.
Ozymandias tells Adam he's through for the day. Some bozo will pinch-designated-hit the rest of this game.
Well, now, what could a blonde beast do with an empty dugout and no more at-bats?
FIE!
3rd Plate Appearance
A cloud is descending over Cleveland. Their hometown heroes are getting whip-wiped all over the place. Is this already another lost year? Are we to expect a cruel summer-winter of crystal-shattered hopes?
Adam looks on this and laughs his tushie off. What fools there be in Cleveland!
Look, o Adam, the Fates must deem this perdition just for the Clevelanders; heavy must be the debt they owe the gods; for lo! herenow the bases are JUICED.
Beckham, Pierre, and Mushroom Morel stand at the bases, pointed toward Adam as at an idol. Doctor Fausto, beset on all sides, groans under the weight of the cloud.
Whip-whap goes Adam's bat, and he knocks a double off the right field wall.
Begone, Doctor Fausto! Peradventure in the locker room you will rue whatever blight-besotted bargain you struck to curse your city so.
Adam looks on this and laughs his tushie off. What fools there be in Cleveland!
Look, o Adam, the Fates must deem this perdition just for the Clevelanders; heavy must be the debt they owe the gods; for lo! herenow the bases are JUICED.
Beckham, Pierre, and Mushroom Morel stand at the bases, pointed toward Adam as at an idol. Doctor Fausto, beset on all sides, groans under the weight of the cloud.
Whip-whap goes Adam's bat, and he knocks a double off the right field wall.
Begone, Doctor Fausto! Peradventure in the locker room you will rue whatever blight-besotted bargain you struck to curse your city so.
2nd Plate Appearance
The dugout is like a cage to Adam. It itches at him; he feels it closing against his shoulders. He tries to watch the game, but can't keep from twitching any time a grounder goes toward first.
Ozymandias regards him with a pepper eye. "What, you got to pee or something?"
Adam shakes his head. He picks up his big-ass bat and strikes a pensive pose.
Soon it is time to warm up in the on-deck circle. Thick little Beckham dinks a single, and Thunderhammerbat crackles in Adam's hands. RBI HUNGER.
At first pitch from Doctor Fausto, Adam gives a big, deep, nasty whiff. "Like this!" he says to THB.
Fausto's scared. He dicks around the zone for a few. And then he floats a wussy little changeup down the middle. Are you kidding...
GOTTERDAMMERUNG!! Adam puts that ball in the trashcan beyond the right field fence. You want that souvenir you got to go GARBAGE DIGGING.
Handshakes all around in the dugout. Adam sits on the bench and the bleakness of idleness bums him out.
Ozymandias regards him with a pepper eye. "What, you got to pee or something?"
Adam shakes his head. He picks up his big-ass bat and strikes a pensive pose.
Soon it is time to warm up in the on-deck circle. Thick little Beckham dinks a single, and Thunderhammerbat crackles in Adam's hands. RBI HUNGER.
At first pitch from Doctor Fausto, Adam gives a big, deep, nasty whiff. "Like this!" he says to THB.
Fausto's scared. He dicks around the zone for a few. And then he floats a wussy little changeup down the middle. Are you kidding...
GOTTERDAMMERUNG!! Adam puts that ball in the trashcan beyond the right field fence. You want that souvenir you got to go GARBAGE DIGGING.
Handshakes all around in the dugout. Adam sits on the bench and the bleakness of idleness bums him out.
1st Plate Appearance
HPU Mike Winters beckons Adam to the batters box. Reeling, Adam obliges, and faces the mysterious Doctor Fausto.
The thick-elf Beckham has poked himself a double; sage Juan Pierre hovers at third. THE STAGE IS SET.
Adam Dunn squints at the weak Cleveland sun. He is still groggy from his transformation; a strike sneaks past him. So too do three balls, and a second strike. Is Adam asleep out there?
Adam! Awaken ye to baseball!
Too late! He swung at a little stinker outside. Opening K!
The thick-elf Beckham has poked himself a double; sage Juan Pierre hovers at third. THE STAGE IS SET.
Adam Dunn squints at the weak Cleveland sun. He is still groggy from his transformation; a strike sneaks past him. So too do three balls, and a second strike. Is Adam asleep out there?
Adam! Awaken ye to baseball!
Too late! He swung at a little stinker outside. Opening K!
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!
Adam wakes as if from a dream. He is in some strange locker room, lit by strange light, smelling of strange odors. Something scuttles in the corner. Adam grabs Thunderhammerbat to strike it--it is a man. Or, some weasel-like simulacrum of a man. A HOMUNCULUS, it seems. Adam withholds Thunderhammerbat, and watches with wonder as the HOMUNCULUS straps on the catcher's gear.
So, there is baseball in this place?
Adam dutifully dresses in his new uniform, wary for ambush. He follows the men through the clubhouse. Little Zimmy is nowhere to be seen.
Avast! Some man claims Adam's station at first base! Adam will not play defense? What, is he to sit idly between innings, juggling Thunderhammerbat like a toy? Is he to play only half a game of baseball?
Ozymandias crouches in the corner. A towel is draped over his shoulders. He laughs and chews gum at the same time.
What is this wicked, bewildering world?
So, there is baseball in this place?
Adam dutifully dresses in his new uniform, wary for ambush. He follows the men through the clubhouse. Little Zimmy is nowhere to be seen.
Avast! Some man claims Adam's station at first base! Adam will not play defense? What, is he to sit idly between innings, juggling Thunderhammerbat like a toy? Is he to play only half a game of baseball?
Ozymandias crouches in the corner. A towel is draped over his shoulders. He laughs and chews gum at the same time.
What is this wicked, bewildering world?
Thursday, April 22, 2010
66th Plate Appearance
Ubaldo has departed Nationals Park, clutching a bushel of goose eggs to his chest. Franklin Morales shakes off a sense of deja vu as he comes to the field. Staked to a two-run lead, he'll face Adam first.
Adam charges up his left-hand batting glove with a few spits. The second pitch from Morales jams him. A jammed Adam Dunn can still lift the ball to the warning track. But a jam is a jam, and the snap of Carlos Gonzalez's glove confirms that this center-field shot closes the book on another 0-for-4 Dunnstravaganza.
Six miles away, past the nation's capitol, past the national mall, past the Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center, Little Zimmy lies in bed in a quiet room in Georgetown University Hospital. He watches Pudge ground out, Justin Maxwell push a pinch-hit single to the outfield, and Ian Desmond strike out to finish the day. He turns off the TV set and rolls over on his side to stare at the wall.
"Why is he so upset?" says one nurse to the other. "Surely he knows his hamstring will have healed by tomorrow."
The other nurse, as buxom as the first, shakes her head. "You'll never understand, will you?"
Adam charges up his left-hand batting glove with a few spits. The second pitch from Morales jams him. A jammed Adam Dunn can still lift the ball to the warning track. But a jam is a jam, and the snap of Carlos Gonzalez's glove confirms that this center-field shot closes the book on another 0-for-4 Dunnstravaganza.
Six miles away, past the nation's capitol, past the national mall, past the Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center, Little Zimmy lies in bed in a quiet room in Georgetown University Hospital. He watches Pudge ground out, Justin Maxwell push a pinch-hit single to the outfield, and Ian Desmond strike out to finish the day. He turns off the TV set and rolls over on his side to stare at the wall.
"Why is he so upset?" says one nurse to the other. "Surely he knows his hamstring will have healed by tomorrow."
The other nurse, as buxom as the first, shakes her head. "You'll never understand, will you?"
65th Plate Appearance
Ubaldo's still in charge, and he has deemed that the Nationals will score no runs today. The man is not known for mercy.
His fellow Ionians, sensing the weakness of grief in Washington's hero, employ the shift.
After a stinky sinky breaking ball, Adam fouls off a fast one, high into the air, toward the third base line seats. Plummeting from a great height, the ball strikes a beautiful woman in the shoulder. She cries out in pain.
Once again, sentiment has been banished. Adam, ensconced in his box, takes no notice.
He fouls off two more, and then Ubaldo feeds some cheese to the inside corner. Adam is returned to the mundane world. He backs out of the box and his great heart breaks.
His fellow Ionians, sensing the weakness of grief in Washington's hero, employ the shift.
After a stinky sinky breaking ball, Adam fouls off a fast one, high into the air, toward the third base line seats. Plummeting from a great height, the ball strikes a beautiful woman in the shoulder. She cries out in pain.
Once again, sentiment has been banished. Adam, ensconced in his box, takes no notice.
He fouls off two more, and then Ubaldo feeds some cheese to the inside corner. Adam is returned to the mundane world. He backs out of the box and his great heart breaks.
64th Plate Appearance
Ubaldo and his high socks stand tall on the mound, awaiting Adam's return to the arena.
Adam takes a deep sigh. Sentiment is therewise banished from his rectangular domain. Adam is fully, actively, gum-smackingly in the moment.
Ubaldo's 97-mph pirahnas nibble the inside of the zone, inducing by a thousand bites a 2-2 count. As he sets his feet, Adam swings THB low at the knees. He's ready to cook some fish.
Ubaldo sends a slider down the stream. And yea, though Adam's momentous chop could cleave the waters, it cannot hack this slider.
Adam takes a deep sigh. Sentiment is therewise banished from his rectangular domain. Adam is fully, actively, gum-smackingly in the moment.
Ubaldo's 97-mph pirahnas nibble the inside of the zone, inducing by a thousand bites a 2-2 count. As he sets his feet, Adam swings THB low at the knees. He's ready to cook some fish.
Ubaldo sends a slider down the stream. And yea, though Adam's momentous chop could cleave the waters, it cannot hack this slider.
63rd Plate Appearance
The injury to Little Zimmy hangs heavy over the clubhouse. Manager Jim Riggleman has spent the intervening night crying and tearing at his hair. Adam came to the clubhouse at 6:30 this morning (his usual arrival time) to find Riggleman slumped in the locker-room corner, weakly gnashing his teeth and beating his breast.
Adam has lifted the man to his duty, but still the lineup card Riggleman has handed to HPU Paul Edmonds is a patchy and torn fig leaf for the utter nakedness that Zimmy's absence has caused. Alberto Gonzalez is at third; Ian Desmond is at short; and loyal Cris Cringle, Zimmy's best friend in the middle infield, has been sent away to right field.
Amongst this sorry scene, Adam comes to fight. It is the bottom of the first. On the mound is the freshest initiate to the no-hit-Immortals, Ubaldo Jimenez.
The first speedy stinky goes far outside. Adam read it and forgot about it as soon as it left Ubaldo's hand. That's how sharp his eye is today.
Some breaking balls come Adam's way, and then a pair of heaters--one that even the staid Nationals Park radar gun must admit cracked three digits--batter Thunderhammerbat into splinters.
The pain of this added loss clouds Adam's clear eyes. Another THB is forthcoming, but some things are irreplaceable. Before he can blink away the resurgent memory of Zimmy's stretched hamstring, he sees another heater coming. Sees it imperfectly. The swing, at least, is beautiful.
Adam has lifted the man to his duty, but still the lineup card Riggleman has handed to HPU Paul Edmonds is a patchy and torn fig leaf for the utter nakedness that Zimmy's absence has caused. Alberto Gonzalez is at third; Ian Desmond is at short; and loyal Cris Cringle, Zimmy's best friend in the middle infield, has been sent away to right field.
Amongst this sorry scene, Adam comes to fight. It is the bottom of the first. On the mound is the freshest initiate to the no-hit-Immortals, Ubaldo Jimenez.
The first speedy stinky goes far outside. Adam read it and forgot about it as soon as it left Ubaldo's hand. That's how sharp his eye is today.
Some breaking balls come Adam's way, and then a pair of heaters--one that even the staid Nationals Park radar gun must admit cracked three digits--batter Thunderhammerbat into splinters.
The pain of this added loss clouds Adam's clear eyes. Another THB is forthcoming, but some things are irreplaceable. Before he can blink away the resurgent memory of Zimmy's stretched hamstring, he sees another heater coming. Sees it imperfectly. The swing, at least, is beautiful.
62nd Plate Appearance - In Which Tragedy Befalls Our Merry Band
A pall has fallen across the beltway.
Mothers, clutching infants to their ample bosoms, weep into kerchiefs and pull their hair. Men stand, blank and speechless.
Lil Zimmy, born September 28 1984, has pulled his hamstring and left the game
It is with a heavy heart and a pinch runner on second that our hero enters the batter's box. "This one's for my son, Ryan Zimmerman" he incants. Baseballs fly past the plate - balls? strikes? Adam shakes off his grief. It's time to fuck some baseballs in their asses.
Adam lifts a towering fly ball to center; a home run if ever there was one. But alack! - the bitter gods usher a zephyr to Nationals Park, pushing the ball back to earth and the fielder's glove.
61st Plate Appearance
Adam leads off in the fifth. Game tied 4-4. Enter big donkey.
The Rockies, flush with hubris, shift seemingly their entire team into right field in an attempt to stop the unstoppable object. He spits, and takes a breaking ball right down the middle. The count evened by a ball down and away. Final leatherball struck high and deep, but caught.
60th Plate Appearance
Teammates Morgan and Zimmy, besting the fool Hammel, reside on 2nd and 1st bases respectively. Adam points his bat to the outfield - "Thattaway" says he.
First ball absurdly low. The giant smiles. Second ball whistles foul at 100 times 100 miles per hour. It rests in the seats until a passing Washingtonian happens upon it. Adam inspects Thunderhammerbat in admiration.
Next pitch pulled down the line, past the bumbling Giambi, to the outfield. Morgan is driven home easily while Lil Zimmy, wafted on the wind of fate, scurries home and avoids the tag.
A two-run double! The critics hide their faces, and scuttle back to their dark and dirty places.
59th Plate Appearance
The nation's capital is cold and wet tonight, and its residents have gathered at Nationals Park to bask in our protagonist's radiant heat. Pitcher Jason Hammel of the Rockies is charged the impossible task of keeping Adam off the basepaths.
Lil Zimmy - ignorant of fate - draws a walk in the bottom of the first. Adam approaches the plate with purpose, and carems the first pitch off first baseman Jason Giambi's glove. The ball dribbles away and the second baseman's throw cannot beat Speedy Dunnzales.
Lil Zimmy - ignorant of fate - draws a walk in the bottom of the first. Adam approaches the plate with purpose, and carems the first pitch off first baseman Jason Giambi's glove. The ball dribbles away and the second baseman's throw cannot beat Speedy Dunnzales.
A rare infield single - relished by all.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
58th Plate Appearance
Bottom of the ninth. Nats down by six runs. Adam Dunn at bat. Every last one of the Five Hundred Faithful has remained in Nationals Park to witness this moment.
Sensing the gravity of the situation, manager Jim Tracy sends out Rockies closer Franklin Morales to face Adam. Adam chops the first pitch foul, just to show Morales what might happen.
Morales is shaken. His next pitch goes in the dirt.
Pitch three is fouled off, and pitch four Adam threatens with a checked swing. Watch your tushes, baseballs.
Pingpang! Adam uppercuts a pitch into the skies. Ryan Spillborghs fields the fly. Adam trots back to the dugout, and an elderly man in the front row studiously avoids eye contact. Another Dunnstravaganza is entered in the books.
Sensing the gravity of the situation, manager Jim Tracy sends out Rockies closer Franklin Morales to face Adam. Adam chops the first pitch foul, just to show Morales what might happen.
Morales is shaken. His next pitch goes in the dirt.
Pitch three is fouled off, and pitch four Adam threatens with a checked swing. Watch your tushes, baseballs.
Pingpang! Adam uppercuts a pitch into the skies. Ryan Spillborghs fields the fly. Adam trots back to the dugout, and an elderly man in the front row studiously avoids eye contact. Another Dunnstravaganza is entered in the books.
57th Plate Appearance
Little Zimmy and Cris Cristofferson are on first and second, and Adam has a lot to think about as he watches the first pitch go by. He watches the second go by, too, both of them strikes. Who is this bozo on the mound?
Matt Belisle is his name, and next he sends a 95mphrpm BUZZSAW inside. Adam's bat is broken! He fouls the saw blade away, to land safely where it threatens no bystanders. Bat Boy Kevin brings another Thunderhammerbat.
Adam swings and misses with a fresh bat. Looks like tonight bozo is spelled with a K.
Matt Belisle is his name, and next he sends a 95mphrpm BUZZSAW inside. Adam's bat is broken! He fouls the saw blade away, to land safely where it threatens no bystanders. Bat Boy Kevin brings another Thunderhammerbat.
Adam swings and misses with a fresh bat. Looks like tonight bozo is spelled with a K.
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