Since I quit taking Adderall, I haven’t been much good at sitting down to write a post. On the plus side, I’m a much nicer person in real life. So there’s that. This is a lame attempt to get back into it.
One of the best things about being a sports fan is the sheer delusion. As a (kind of crazy, I’ll admit it) sports fan, one of my favorite things to believe even though I know it isn’t true is that I can somehow affect the game. Don’t you do that? If you wear your “lucky” jersey that you haven’t washed even though some asshole spilled beer on it that one time at Blake Street, your team will win. If you mercilessly heckle Barry Bonds until you almost get thrown out of Coors Field, which happens to you more often than it happens to most people, your team will win. If you make sure your hands aren’t touching each other when the enemy team attempts a free throw, they will miss. If you make sure your hands are elaborately linked together when your team attempts a free throw, they will make it. (That’s weird, but I honestly believed it for a while.)
You don’t want to admit any of these things to anyone, because, yeah, it makes you look a little crazy. But I’m totally okay with that.
My latest “I can affect the game” project is Manny Corpas. Here’s what I know about Manny Corpas — he’s really young. I saw him pitch his first-ever game for the Rockies. This was back in the day, when Jose Mesa was still here, and from what I understand, Jose Mesa was instrumental in shaping these young guys in the bullpen. But Jose Mesa’s not here any more. I don’t even know where he is — probably at home with Mirla and the kids in the Dominican Republic, because he sure as hell isn’t playing for anyone in MLB and that, my friends, is a travesty. But Manny came on like gangbusters, eventually taking over the closer position from a wonky and “injured” emo kid, Brian Fuentes. (Have you listened to his intro. music? Eesh.)
But Manny has had his struggles. Last year, I figured that what Manny needs is confidence. Of course, that doesn’t prove that I’m some kind of psychological mastermind or anything. You have a young kid doing something awesome and kicking ass, and it’s a matter of logic that when something goes wrong, which it is prone to do, his confidence will suffer. So last year I decided that to help build Manny’s confidence, I’d hang around the bullpen and yell at him.
If you’ve been to Coors Field, you know that it’s not hard to wander over and get a good view of the bullpens. From the first level, it’s like you’re Juliet looking down from your balcony to a handful of surly Romeos, complete with sunflower seeds and mitts waiting to get into the action. Last year, I started going over there and yelling “Manny Corpas!” from time to time. When he heard me, he’d turn and kind of do this sort of half-wave thing, with his hand by his head, something between a wave and a salute. Totally charming. Manny is awesome. If you’ve ever watched him in the bullpen, you see how it works. For a while, he sits there and tries to look nonchalant. But eventually, you catch him looking up and scanning the crowd. I’m convinced that he does this because, like any young guy, he wants someone to notice him. So I decided that I would notice him like it was my job.
Manny has been struggling this year, so much so that it looks like the closer job is back in the grasp of southpaw Brian Fuentes. So when I was at the game this Wednesday, I realized that it was time for me to fix Manny Corpas. Because I can affect the game. And I know what Manny Corpas needs.
So I wandered over to the bullpen. Manny was sitting there, and it looked like he had sunflower seeds, an energy drink, and chewing tobacco. (I tried to deny that the tobacco was his, but it was right next to him on the bench and it probably was.) When he looked like he was listening, I yelled “Manny!!!” and waved. This time he waved back, like he wasn’t even trying to be subtle. That was cool. Ryan Speier was getting warmed up and I kind of like him and his quasi-sidearm style that looks like he’s pushing, rather than throwing, the ball, but I never yelled at Ryan Speier. That’s because I was there only for Manny Corpas.
I decided right then that he was my new all-time favorite relief pitcher. If you know anything about me, you know that I’m ridiculously, to the point of being dysfunctional, loyal to my all-time favorite relief pitchers. And the good thing about Manny Corpas is that he worked with Jose Mesa, if only briefly. So there’s that.
So at Coors Field, I’ll always go over to the bullpen, but I’ll only cheer for Manny Corpas. You can’t cheer for everyone in there, or else it isn’t special. I cheered for Manny on Wednesday, but after Speier pitched, they brought Brian Fuentes into the bullpen. As soon as he showed up, Manny threw his cup full of sunflower seeds on the ground and left. I think he was pissed. I wonder if those guys hate each other, or tolerate each other through a series of sideways glances and subtle clubhouse barbs.
Brian Fuentes almost gave me a heart attack that game, but he pulled it together and the Rockies won their first game in like 100 years. I made fun of his intro. music for a good 15 minutes. Cheer up, emo kid.
