Albert the Insect

I went to the game last night and wanted to post some photos, but the camera cord has somehow slithered away, probably to the place where all the lost socks go or something. Anyway, Homer did not look as bad as his line. I sat way up directly behind home plate – I think there were only four or five rows behind me. I wanted the cheap seats, but cheap for the night was $14. Quite honestly, I think the $7 bleacher seats are better - the players don’t look like ants. I’ve never sat directly behind home in GAB(p) and it was an interesting perspective. Homer really seemed to be popping them in there.

And then Albert happened. Oh Albert, how do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways. No, wait, I can’t count them. Their number is limitless.

A strange thing happened on the way down to the game. I was driving down I-75 when I hit stopped traffic. I had Tracy Bonehead and that other guy on the radio and WLW gives those traffic up dates every ten minutes, so I learned there was an accident right around Cin-Day Road exit. I was about two mile from there and didn’t feel like sitting on the highway, but fortunately there was an exit very near to where I was stopped. I have a great sense of direction – something I guess I got from my grandfather – so despite not really knowing the roads in this part of the world, I knew I could manage to get around the accident.

There I was, driving along a new road, window down, beautiful weather, when suddenly I hear this awful noise so loud it hurt my ears. I had had a dream the night before about my car breaking down, so I freak out and search for my AAA card, but it's not in the car. I keep going, the noise dies down, then I don’t hear it. Then I catch it again. Radio goes off, I’m leaning out the window at a stoplight to try to discern the source of the noise. Then I see it.

A squished cicada was on the road. I knew immediately the source of that horrible noise. I also knew to roll up the window. These are the strangest of creatures, making their presence known to us every seventeen years, and boy do they swarm. Next up was like a horror movie. The things were so thick it was as if the apocalypse were truly upon us. I had cicada guts on the windshield, cicada wings stuck in the wipers…oh, it was gross.

That was around West Chester. The noise and the infestation died out the closer I got to Cincy.

Anyway, I think Albert Pujols is like a cicada. A guy with his talent comes once in a generation, and he swarms around your team like a seal was broken in Heaven. He got us last night, got to Homer, and our boy Bailey wasn’t the same after that. And in front of 30,000+, which, for once, were wearing mostly Reds gear. I did want to snatch a few Nuxy statues away from some Pujols clad invaders and one guy with a Chub$ hat on.

Still, I never want to see a guy carried off the field like last night, voodoo jokes aside.

I’ll post photos once I find the camera cord.