Dylan Cease is the first Blue Jays pitcher to start the ASG since Roy Halladay (2009). Cristopher Sánchez is the first Phillies pitcher to start the ASG since ... Roy Halladay (2011).
Legit, at 10:00 AM this morning, I was side by side with Shane Victorino raking fields in Nicetown, North Philadelphia. I was drenched in sweat. It was honest work.
Shane Victorino is the man. He’s down at the All Star Village now. The dude doesn’t stop.
As an ambassador for baseball and for Philadelphia, it doesn’t get much better than Shane Victorino.
I would be absolutely speechless if somebody in my group, or someone I have a match against, pulls out the $2,000 L.A.B. Golf VZN. 1i Uncrustables putter.
Honestly hilarious that it comes with a coupon for 15 Uncrustables though.
The best attitude towards AI is treating it like a dumbass to bounce ideas off, which nevertheless helps you think of the correct answer. Much like how House treats his team
Buddy told me last week that he cancelled his gym membership and instead he goes to the batting cages 3x a week and I can’t stop thinking about it #CBTM
one thing they don’t tell you in software engineer school is that you’re gonna fumble generational wealth like 10 times and you just gotta learn to thug it out
USA. A breakfast counter. The waitress recommended the biscuits and gravy, and when the plate arrived, I thought something had gone wrong in the kitchen.
I say this with shame. The dish looked like a construction site after rain. Pale mounds. Gray ladle-fall. Speckles I could not identify.
In my land, the eye eats first. A meal is arranged like a garden. This meal was arranged like weather.
"Is it… finished?" I asked, carefully.
"Honey, that's what it looks like."
The man beside me was already eating his. He did not look up. "Just try it."
I am a man who has charged hillsides at dawn. I raised the fork. I tried it.
I must now formally apologize to the biscuits, the gravy, the waitress, the kitchen, and the entire breakfast tradition of the American South.
It was magnificent. Warm. Peppered. The biscuit drank the gravy the way a field drinks rain — THAT is why it is shaped like that, you fool — and every mound I had insulted was a soft fold of comfort that my homeland, in eight hundred years, never once thought to invent.
"Well?" the waitress asked.
"I judged it," I confessed. "By its appearance. I am ashamed."
"Everybody does, hon."
Everybody does. A national dish that forgives you for doubting it. It expects the doubt. It waits for you on the other side of it.
Do not judge the gravy by its face. Judge yourself, for hesitating.
I order it every Saturday now. I no longer see the construction site. I see only the garden.
It was a garden the whole time. The eye must be trained.