Friday's the big day. The Baseball Prospectus Pizza Feed. If you're not familiar with Baseball Prospectus, it's a group of writers devoted to uncovering the truths in the great game of baseball not only through statistics, but in well written essays that make some of this seemingly foreign material more accessible. They use language to perfectly describe what we as fans have a vague notion of. Which of these players really is better? Which statistics truly do describe a player's abilities? All of this is carefully theorized upon and explained. Not just numbers, but words are their friends and medium.
Which is why I find it ironic that there won't be any pizza at the Baseball Prospectus Pizza Feed.
Finding out the news wasn't easy. I was livid at first. I called Jon.
"They lied," I said to Jon in a matter of fact, yet seriously annoyed sort of way.
"What?" Jon asked, confused.
"They lied to us," I confirmed. "You want to go to an event that lies to us?"
"What do you mean?"
Exasperated, I finally spelled it out for Jon, "He can't see. He's blind in one eye."
Of course, eventually, Jon calmed me down and then later went on to tell everybody that Red would still be our jockey... Wait a second...
Ah hell. That was from Seabiscuit, wasn't it.
Anyways. Forget all that. I lost my train of thought. Bottom line. There isn't any pizza at the gloriously mistitled Pizza Feed.
So, that being said, over at Ducksnorts they're trying to figure out a place to meet before the game for some foodstuffs. I'm perfectly happy trying to talk my way into the Toyota Terrace for some of that grub, but I've failed every single time before, and I'm not sure that anything has changed. What's everybody else doing? Richard B Wade can't go to bars. Is there a Pad Squadder out there who can sneak us some grub? I mean, seriously, there's Oggi's right there.
Any regular readers going to this thing? I know David (and his merry crew) and Richard are going. Anybody else? Jon and I need to figure out our plans.
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