The epic sixty's singing group has agreed to change the lyrics to one of their hits:
"West Coast boys are hip I really love those clothes they wear.
But the East coast boys with the way they hit, they knock me out when they’re out there."
Okay, a lyricist I’m not. And you know I'm kidding.
But my dad is visiting and I’m just so excited he saw the Phils sweep a three game series and win the first game of their west coast stint.
Then he asked me a question to make any mom proud.
"Who’s that centerfielder?"
Well, legally he’s called “Shane Victorino,” but we like to call him TOTALLY AWESOME! Now maybe it isn’t fair to exclaim his Shane-ness when he’s alternating outfield gigs with the Nationals, led by hustle extraordinaire, Adam Dunn–the antithesis of fielding. But honestly, I think he looks good no matter who we’re playing.
Let’s be authentic about it. And not in a roundabout way like, “Does too much of my butt show in this miniskirt?”
“Not if you’re going to be submerged.”
Let’s just say it like it is.
“I wish Shane Victorino played in a kilt.”
Wait, that’s not what I meant at all–I just got stuck watching his flyin’ Hawaiian bobblehead gyrate next to my keyboard.
What I meant was, just like a shrinking miniskirt, Shane has taken his game to a whole other level. Let’s not skirt the facts:
He leads the team in triples, and is second in total hits.
He hustles ‘round the bases stealing as good as anyone in his crib.
He’s third in runs he’s scored, and fourth in hitting doubles.
Frankly, to the opposing team, he’s nothing less than trouble.
Okay, a poet I’m not either. Where are those Phillies cheerleaders when I need them?
What this means to me is, he’s a guy who can really get around the bases. And that’s something baseball babes covet.
So when my dad asked who that was in centerfield, I had a simple answer. That’s “Shane.”
And I’ve coined my own term to explain what he does–“Shane It”.
So, he “Shaned it” last night against the Padres. And I’m sure with his undying Hawaiian smiling, he’ll keep it up tonight, even if my husband can’t.
Whoops, was I thinking out loud again?
Sorry about that. Maybe I should change the subject.
JC Romero returns tomorrow and I’m as giddy as a call girl… Whoops. I meant “school girl.” I really need to stop while I’m behind. Sorry, I just missed him so much.
And I miss the team. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could sop up the drool that slips from my lip around the fifth with my Jayson Werth blanket. But I won’t be able to pick that up until July 24th so I have plenty of time to whine about it.
Heaven forbid I miss an opportunity to complain.
Just ask my husband.