On another night of Jeff Weaver playing the M's eight million dollar pitching machine, I watched the debacle (fiasco? tragedy? embarrassment?) with my folks, once again enjoying the musings of an astute observer of the game: my mom. During the nine inning shellacking, she...
- Referred to the catcher as "the shortstop."
- Confused the pitcher for Ichiro. Again.
- Theorized that Jeff Weaver was faring so poorly because his wife recently left him. (Weaver is single, and will be for a while if he doesn't get his head straight.)
- Warned, "You'd better not blog this."
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