This Message Brought To You By Cool And Refreshing Mountain Dew Baja Blast (Baseball Opening Day Is Finally Here)

Actual Baseball, not Spring Training or the Netflix Opening Night debacle, is back today. May the Sports Dads of the world unite in our shared insecurity. I for one will be celebrating the day by visiting the VA to complain about the osteoarthritis in both feet and ankles while also getting irritated at my cats, Bob and Kevin, for following me around the apartment while I sulk and wish the Royals Opener was today and not tomorrow.

Anyway, how ‘bout that Netflix game?

Too many announcers and journalists and podcast hosts are complaining about the usual things for me to waste too much time on said topics. But all three of you that clicked on this blog post are probably interested to read my thoughts for some reason. So, I’ll make this first part quick.

Yes, Netflix dropped the ball (har-har) and screwed up the pitcher-batter angle camera, leading to a blurry scene that looked more like a B-Movie greenscreen than a professional baseball broadcast. That was lame and I hated it.

Yes, being pelted with ads featuring upcoming Netflix shows wasn’t great. But I find it annoying when literally every other channels touts their own mediocre accomplishments and programming, so it’s hard to give Netflix too much grief there.

Yes, comedian Bert Krecinceucnencc, or however you spell it, was annoying and endearing in the way only he can be. I didn’t love it, but plenty of alcoholics watch baseball, so I imagine they enjoyed seeing their idol getting (even more) air time.

Yes, the Barry Bonds story about Steinbrenner had me DYING. Too good.

Yes, Hunter Pence and Jameis Winston were great. Put them on air again.

There’s more over-discussed things to complain about, but I have a couple Dad Complaints I haven’t seen written or talked about anywhere else. And this is my blog with a dedicated fan (singular) base. As such, here you go.

Am I the only one who was losing my mind at the Mountain Dew Baja Blast ad unceremoniously-and-digitally stamped onto the pitcher’s mound? I have never sounded more like a Has-Been than when that ad caught my attention. “These corporations just WON’T BE STOPPED, what with their marketing and blah blah so on so forth.” I hated it.

On an unrelated note, I am officially joining the Anarchist Political Party. Or, if there isn’t one, consider it formed. Right now. (To all of you Humanities and Poli-Sci Majors, yes, I understand the irony of forming an Anarchist Party. Thank you for continuing to be an easy target for ridicule.) My decision to join/create said party has (almost) nothing to do with my politics and (almost) everything to do with my hatred of large entities I don’t like and have been trying desperately to escape by researching survival skills and deleting social media.

Anyway.

Why aren’t more people talking about the on-field interview with Jazz Chisholm Jr.? At first, and even still a little now, I was appalled. After all, the guy’s talking to announcers while he’s on the freaking field and, you know, playing baseball. But as the interview went on, I have to say, I was intrigued. Eventually I was almost entirely on-board. It was super cool hearing the man talk to the announcers while making millions of dollars and shuffling back-and-forth like he was doing the Electric Slide. That’s the kind of color commentary I want to hear at home while nursing a sore back and shouting pitching advice to athletes half my age and worth more than 100,000x my lifetime income.

Anyway.

Good to be back and writing this blog. I took a month-or-so long break—mainly because I’m a ball of anxiety constantly worrying that any chance I might have at a Big Five book deal in the future will be harmed by some stupid shit I say on here. Maybe that will be the case. In that instance, I’ll just start an OnlyFans channel where I offer uninformed opinions about baseball while sharing feet pics to my fan.

That’s all for now. I’ll share more when I have more to complain about. Take care.