Saturday, November 27, 2010

Hey Diddle, the Cat and the Fiddle, This Time I Think We Go Up-a Da Middle


The Siren does not dig team sports, as a rule, although at various points in her dissipated past she has faked an interest in them for unsavory motives of her own (impressing boys, basically). There is one team, and one team only, about which she does care, for the sake of her late lamented father.

Many years ago that team, the Alabama Crimson Tide, lost a football game to Auburn University by one point. Her father watched the blue-and-orange end-zone celebration for about 30 seconds, switched off the TV, walked into the garage, grabbed a pair of hedge clippers and went out to trim the bushes. Under ordinary circumstances, this was about as likely a scenario as seeing Leslie Howard attempt a field goal. My mother followed and watched him for a minute, and when she started to fear that our hedge would soon resemble a petunia patch she ventured, “Gary. It’s only a game.” He grunted, stopped, then turned to her and said, “No, it isn’t. It’s the end of the whole goddamn world.”

Today’s project chez Siren: Find some goddamn hedge clippers.

Note: The Siren welcomes anyone patient enough to read her maunderings, without regard to differences of background or opinion. Republican or Democrat, East or West Coast, George Sanders fan or George Sanders skeptic, she loves you all. However, today she gives fair warning that until further notice, Auburn fans caught gloating in her comments section will be deleted without mercy.

13 comments:

Lady Wesley said...

I had no idea that you bled Crimson. My condolences (although it was a great game for nonpartisans). My team is the Texas Longhorns. If I pulled out the clippers every time they lost this year, my hedges would be gone altogether.

Flickhead said...

My one attachment to sports was the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, but only under Tom Landry. After he left, everything went to shit.

Karen said...

I've never been a football fan of any kind, myself, but I certainly understand about paternal passions passing to daughters. So I feel for you, Siren. I feel for you. And for all the hedges in Prospect Park.

DavidEhrenstein said...

Siren you've got to get those football signals from Professor Wagstaff.

Vanwall said...

They're also weepin' in Boise, I unnerstan' - but as a long-time Red Sox fan, I know the dog has his day, too. I do know die-harders, tho, that can let it subsume all. Not many headlines like "Harvard Beats Yale 29-29" anymore, and it's a charming documentary now, as well - winning is how you see things.

Buttermilk Sky said...

I feel your pain, because sports genes are passed from fathers to daughters. My father was a Baltimore Orioles fan. You can imagine what the last 27 years have been like for me, Cal Ripken notwithstanding.

Kent Jones said...

To quote Steely Dan:

They call Alabama the Crimson Tide / Call me Deacon Blues

DavidEhrenstein said...

Ricky Don't Lose That Number.

X. Trapnel said...

"I kinda like Baltimore."

"Baltimore!!??"--12 Angry Men

I inherited the Yankees from my mother.

Yojimboen said...

To the foreigner – well, to this one at least – baseball is American zen, and the Bombers are, and ever will be, the Zen Masters.

X. Trapnel said...

My Zen master was Roy White

Vanwall said...

There are many zen masters of the diamond, and pitch; the cult of each is individual in the extreme, even when shared with like-minded acolytes. Best worshipped in one's youth, before the innocence is worn off the idols. My say-it-ain't-so-Joe moment was minor - in league, moment, and mebbe meaning - but none the less, the abyss looked back into my wide, brown eyes as I listened from the outfield fence in the old Scottsdale ballpark during spring training. It was only reinforced by hanging around the Pink Pony, and seeing the Annies wafting about, and no longer wondering why. Perhaps it would've been better not to cut class and sneak down to the empty seats right down at the fence; I traded grade school for the school of hard knocks that day - ballplayers are really only ballplayers.

The Derelict said...

I am feeling your pain, Siren. My Michigan Wolverines were pretty much embarrassed on Saturday afternoon by our arch rivals down south (yes, Columbus is "down south" if you're in Ann Arbor). Bo Schembechler wept.

I'm not sure which is worse. Losing a heartbreaker like Bama or getting crushed to dust by your enemies like Michigan. I think the main thing is: Losing blows.