If you don't think I'm going to point out every time that my August predictions were right, well, then you just haven't been reading RHM very long. And the Reds taking the two of the three-game series with the Brewers is no exception, though after they won the first two, I was kind of hoping they'd prove me wrong this afternoon.
Coming right up is the four-game series with San Francisco. I said the Reds would win three, but I'd like to point out that I'd be happy to be wrong if it meant a sweep.
Aside from a bullpen letdown the likes of which we've been spared lately, today's game was pretty lackluster. With so few highlights, I expect multiple “Sunglasses at Night” references in the game stories, what with rookie Corey Hart playing such a big role in the Brewers' win. So at least we have that to look forward to.
In completely unrelated news, I saw this article on Yahoo! Sports via a thread on RedsZone. The story talks about talking, the kind that goes on during a baseball game. This paragraph in particular caught my notice:
That doesn't even count the around-the-batting-cage banter between opposing teams, or the constant discourse that takes place in the bullpen and on the bench, which tends to be eclectic, raucous, obscene, politically incorrect, pithy and trivial - often all at once.
I have to wonder whether this sort of stuff is among the reasons that baseball seems so reticent to involve women in any meaningful role in the sport. Women have been traditionally pretty righteous about this sort of conversation, and I can see why guys would not want to open themselves up to castigation, or perhaps worse, smack down by a member of the gentler sex. But I can assure you that many women actually partake of plenty of this kind of badinage, though usually rather cattily about third parties, not about each other.
For example, Bellyscratcher and I will be participating in some mild smack talk over at her place as we discuss the finer points of the Cardinals v Cubs game this very evening. Stop on by if you'd like to take your turn at jabbing at the Cards or Cubs. Or at me. I won't cry. Much.