The origin of the “Holy War”

In looking back at 2006, this afternoon’s post will look back the whole rivalry between the Memphis Church and Da Crew, number 67 on the year-end countdown.

I had began attending church out in Cordova at the beginning part of the year, this coming after leaving a church but not attending services the year before.

Little did I know that the group of people that I associated with at the church would turn into a holy-roller version of Da Crew.

To some in Da Crew, they view the Bible Thumpers (that was the nickname that we gave to them) as emigrated snobs who would only last a hot second in South Memphis.

And the Bible Thumpers viewed us as a bunch of cocky and arrogant people who couldn’t keep their mouths closed.

Which was usually reserved for me, because I went into their church and dissed everyone from the janitor who cleans up to the church leader when I first got there.

When we tried to play them in basketball, I figured that there was going to be some excuse that they would chicken out if we moved forward with the game that we brokered with them.

So to solve that, I ended up writing up a contract in order to guarantee the game and making sure that all parties would understand the legal implications of the game.

Which was done at a press conference that was caught on tape with the help of my video camera in the campus cafeteria.

The contract for the most part was signed by both myself and Dr. Chris on January 24th, the same day that we were supposed to have a Bible study out in Hickory Hill.

Later that day, one of the people that we were going to face in the “Holy War” saw the contract that was done earlier in the day and signed by both myself and Dr. Chris at school.

Much to the chagrin of the people at the church, they saw this contract and started the seeds of the rivalry that started between Da Crew and the Bible Thumpers.

On Feb. 10th, the “Holy War” got intense when one of them decided to use my phone as a way to diss everyone and everything in Da Crew, this during one of the worst snowstorms in the history of the city.

Five days later, on Feb. 15th, there was going to be a Meeting of the Minds (read:the introduction of the two factions on campus).

That’s when one of them decided to hide in the Office Depot parking lot, which angered the members of Da Crew.

Especially when one of them said that they didn’t have time to play with little children, which was heard by some in Da Crew.

Well, who’s the little one now?

The dawn of the age of Aquarius at Autozone Park

This post is in a series of flashbacks of the year that it was in 2006. The posts will run until Dec. 28th in this blog.

During the first day of the Kids’ Camp at Autozone Park, I was eating lunch with Steve the Fantasy Baseball Guru, Kelly, Michelle (not the one I went to school with), the “legendary prankster” Brian Esposito, and “Principal Tankersly” when the conversation turned into a discussion on Zodiac signs.

Given the fact that sometime during the broadcasts that I did on Fan Radio, I always managed to bring up the Zodiac signs of certain players because on the rosters that they give us in the broadcast booth, they have the players’ birthdays.

So knowing people’s Zodiac signs was just something that was ingrained in me from the time when my mother explained to me Zodiac signs when I was in sixth grade.

Back to the story, Dennis Tankersly said to us that he was a Pisces, which happens to be the same Zodiac sign of John Nelson and the legendary prankster Brian Esposito, who actually shared a birthday with him.

When it was my turn to share my Zodiac sign, I said that I was a Scorpio and shared m birthday with Pedro Martinez and the guy who hit that home run in 1951, Bobby Thomson.

It was also the same Zodiac sign of Kelly, whose birthday was a week after mine.

By the time it was Michelle’s turn, it was two Scorpians and two Pisceseans (not sure if I spelled that right or now) sitting at the table.

“I’m a Libra,” she said as we all chewed on our respective hamburgers.

The last person to share their Zodiac sign was the wise Fantasy Baseball Guru himself.

Now remember, this was a guy that would always say he was just smart whenever one of us would ask him a question on certain things.

This time, his response to the Zodiac conversation shook the world.

“I don’t even know my Zodiac sign,” he said.

After savoring the last few bites of my cheeseburger, I asked him his birthday.

“Feb. 16th,” he said.

“You’re an Aquarius,” I said to him, “You’re three days shy of being a Pisces, which begins on Feb. 19th.”

A month later, I asked the chocolate cutie what was her Zodiac sign, which was something that was egged on by my big sister.

From my own actions around her, it seemed to me that she shared the same Zodiac sign as the city’s fine version of Marcie, who was a Pisces.

My theory was that many Pisces girls that I talk to, I end up losing lots and lots of concentration.

When I guessed her Zodiac sign during one of the first conversation that I had with my big sister, she had this to say to me.

“LeToya Luckett is a Pisces.”

So is Will Clark and Harry Caray.

Not to mention Juan Encarncion and former Detroit Tigers outfielder Skeeter Barnes.

When I brought up the Zodiac thing to her after we got in a picture together, I asked her what was her Zodiac sign.

“Aquarius,” she replied, “My birthday’s Feb. 9th.”

When I found out, I had to think about my ex, who was also an Aquarius and I couldn’t see eye to eye with.

Mainly because she rushed into what she thought was going to be a long-standing relationship.

Without getting to know me.

I went into the store and told the wise Fantasy Baseball Guru about what had happened when I asked the chocolate cutie about the Zodiac sign.

“She’s an Aquarius,” I told him, “Just like you.”

And probably for the first time in the history of mankind, the wise Fantasy Baseball Guru actually admitted to not being smart about Zodiac signs.

In a circular way.

Hey, there’s condoms in the bathroom!!!

In looking back at 2006, this afternoon’s flashback will look back at number 73 on the countdown of the top 100 things, events, and people that made 2006 the year that it was.

A few weeks ago, I went on a trip with my church to Nashville for a conference with other churches from across the region, which I wrote about in my post on Halloween, because I had no Internet access for the three days that I was there in Nashville.

Given the fact that I have gone on many church trips in the past with my grandmother, you would think the trip to Nashville would be for the most part, free of anything that would be immoral.

Or better yet, immoral things that you have to make observations of for a blog entry.

Which is exactly what happened when some church members and I made a pit stop on the outskirts of Nashville.

There was this quaint service station that was on the west side of Nashville off Interstate 40 and given the fact that we were almost in Williamson County and running low on gas, we decided to fuel up for the road with snacks and gas by stopping there.

And given the fact that I drank like that “Home Alone” character (except the bed-wetting part), I found the pit stop the perfect opportunity to answer the call of nature.

I went into the bathroom and did what I had to do (can’t believe I’m writing about a bathroom) when I raised my head up after flushing the toilet.

In front of me was a condom-vending machine, that had all the great condom brands (Trojan, Magnum, Durex) waiting to be bought by some unsuspecting person in the men’s bathroom.

Beliving that the condom-vending machine wasn’t working, I twisted the knob to see if the condom machine was working properly.

To my surprise, it was.

After I washed my hands, I went out to grab a tall Coke for the road (regret that decision now) and told one of my church members what I just saw in the bathroom.

“There’s a condom vending machine in the bathroom,” I said, “And it actually works.”

My fellow church member looked at me as I let out a big sigh of disbelief, based on my knowledge of knowing that condoms in service stations are normally located behind the cashiers, not in a bathroom.

“Well, that’s the way of the world we live in,” he said to me as we went to the counter.

So true.

The Myspace domino effect

In looking back at 2006, this morning’s post will look back at number 79 on the countdown of the 100 things, people, places, and events that made 2006 a year to remember for me.

When I was growing up, I remembered there was this game called Dominio Rally that I would play when I would spend time at my cousin’s house.

I don’t remember the objective of the game because it has been thirteen years since I played it, but the way that the number of friends that I have on Myspace, the domino effect of adding friends became the main reason why as of this writing, I’m closing in on 500 friends.

And pretty much everyone on my friends list is connected to each other as if it was a social domino effect in the city of Memphis.

For example, I added Robert (sax-playing sidekick from my Whitehaven days), who added Dr. Joye (had a theory of sprungess), who in turn added Darius (the third Musketeer), who in turn added his sister (who confuses me with my cousin whenever I talk to her), which would be the friend tree of Dr. Robert Phillips.

Notice the picture, folks?

I added Dr. Jason Smith, who in turn added Dr. Jeff Smith, who in turn added Rev. Rainey, who added Dr. Adam Hite, who in turn added Nathalie, who in turn added Annie, who would add Lydia, who then later added Elizabeth, who then added Meredith, who added Kelsey, who in turn added the new member of the Galloway Gang, Christy to her friend list.

The friend tree of Dr. Jason Smith.

I added Michelle to my friend list, who in turn added Sharika (the witness to Memphis professional baseball history), who added Jamiliah to her friends list, who added her cousin (who keeps calling me ‘Pumpkin’), who added Adrice (who worked at the community center up north).

Which would be considered the friend tree of Michelle.

The same thing could be said when I added Tammy to my friend list, who added Kim (won’t go into detail) who in turned added people out of the friend trees of both Robert and Michelle to form one large Myspace domino effect in Whitehaven.

You’d think the domino effect wouldn’t reach the corner of South Third and Union, but that’s where you’re wrong.

I added Lauretta, who in turn added Singing Phillip, who in turn added Abbey (my other “big sis”), who in turn added Michelle, who added Kelly, who then added me,who then added Sabrina, who added Katie, who added Chris Naverson.

And created yet another domino effect on Myspace from the corner of South Third and Union and interlock with the dominoes that are falling into place thanks in part to the connections made through the three friend trees I mentioned before.

The thing is, what other person will be part of that ever-so increasing domino that we call Myspace?

Could be you, the reader.

Put your stunna glasses on and melt away

This afternoon’s post will look back at number 80 on the countdown of the 100 events, people, and things that made 2006 a year to remember.

One of the biggest songs of the year was the anthem to the “stunna frames” by rapper Nakia Shine, a proud native of Frayser, who had everyone wearing stunna frames around the city.

Even babies and elderly people were wearing the shades.

Of course, I don’t think a song about wearing eyeglasses in order to correct squinting in my right eye would cause a blip on the national rap radar.

I had figured that I needed glasses to correct the squinting that I had in my right eye that bugged me for about a week or so in the middle of June, when the Redbirds were in the middle of the longest homestand of the year.

So on a warm Friday afternoon, I went down to Fisher Optical in the Medical Center to buy some glasses to correct the squinting and made a mental note to wear the glasses when I did the broadcast on Father’s Day so I could be able to read the out-of-town scores.

And try to avoid being seen by the chocolate cutie, whom four days prior to that, I admitted my feelings to when I did the game between Oklahoma and the Redbirds and used the home run call for the first time

I was called to do the game on Father’s Day when the Redbirds faced the Omaha Royals, which would be the first game that I did since I admitted to the chocolate cutie that I liked her four days earlier.

And used that quasi-famous home run call for the first time.

When I entered the ballpark among thousands of people that were there to enjoy the day with their families, I figured that there’s no way that somebody is going to spot you out of 10,000 or so people in a ballpark.

I had turned the other way towards the Entry Plaza and tried to focus on getting prepared for the game and meeting up with Abbey to see what innings would I do that day.

And knowing how a couple of days earlier, my big sister mentioned to me that I was going to melt if I saw the chocolate cutie again, mainly because well, my big sister is normally right on these type of things.

So once I got near the middle of the Entry Plaza, to my right I heard a voice near the main entrance.

“Hey, honey,” I heard. It was the chocolate cutie.

Logic told me that no one spots you out of 10,000 people just out of the blue, especially a girl.

And definitely not a girl that you see every once in a while when you do the Fan Radio broadcasts.

When the chocolate cutie said that, I paid no attention to it, figuring it was because she was just trying to be nice and stuff.

Four days earlier, I was standing in the concourse area and was listening to Michael Jackson’s “Butterflies” play over the loudspeakers prior to me admitting to the chocolate cutie that I liked her.

Replacing Michael on the loudspeakers was his brother Jermaine’s song, “Do What You Do” as I went to get the scorecards and write the lineup.

As I was doing that, I figured that I should go back over to where the chocolate cutie was and say hi.

And make some little talk and be on my way.

I went back over to the Entry Plaza and said hi to the chocolate cutie, who by my surprise was wanting to know where I was for the last four days.

“Well, I work as a consuelor for parents at Porter-Leath,” I answered, “I missed you too.”

I brought up the home run call that I did when Mike Rose hit the homer in the bottom of the ninth inning of the game that I did between Oklahoma and the Redbirds four days earlier.

“Well, I wish I could have heard it,” she said.

And much like what happened on June 4th, the two of us looked into each other eyes for maybe 20 or so seconds as gray clouds formed over the ballpark.

I attempted though, to get to know her, but apparently not thinking, I figured it was the wrong time to do it as people kept pouring into the gates.

I talked to my big sister about what happened at the corner of South Third and Union Avenue later on that day and asked her why would the chocolate cutie be so concerned about where I had been for the last four days.

My sister’s response?

“Bro, she sounds like she’s interested in you the same way that you’re interested in her. Her questioning of your whereabouts is a sign that she’s into you.”

Enough said then.

A yummy wrinkle in time

In looking back at 2006, today’s post will look back at number 82, about my favorite place to eat during lunch.

Remember those small-town cafes had friendly waitresses who remembered what you would always order, burgers that left you full until dinner, and you could buy candy and cigars whenever you finished your meal?

That’s what the Bon-Ton Cafe on Monroe and South Second, a block west of Autozone Park is.

A slice of 1950’s America stuck in the super-techno world of 2006.

I had discovered the Bon-Ton Cafe, which is in the shadow of Autozone Park, when I was in the area near Autozone Park during the summer of 2005, when I was wrapping up my first season with Fan Radio down at the ballpark.

Back then, my thinking was that I was just going to eat a cheeseburger and some fries and try a different restuarant.

And the other reason was that the cheeseburger and fries only costed me $6, which was pretty great for a guy who only had $10 dollars on him that day.

Fast-forward to this summer, when the area bounded by Autozone Park and South Third on the east, Union Avenue to the south, South Second to the west, and Madison Avenue to the north became my own little Mayberry where I could eat lunch and go down to the Backstop Emporium to talk to Amber and Steve the Fantasy Baseball Guru for a minute before heading back to my job.

I began to regularly eat at the Bon-Ton during the first part of May, ordering the usual special that was always posted on the sidewalk in front of the Bon-Ton in big white letters screaming with all power about the $6 cheeseburger special with the fiery of a country preacher in rural Mississippi.

I would always go in the Bon-Ton and sit on the red swivel stools that looked as though they were ripped from the 1950’s (basically, the entire resturant was taken from the 1950’s) and transported into the 21st century.

My favorite waiter, Miss Mary, would always greet me with the same phrase whenever I came into the Bon-Ton.

“Open-faced cheeseburger with a glass of sweet tea?”

“Yes ma’am,” I would reply as I scrounged through the newspapers that were scattered all over a non-working jukebox with classic rock hits like “Baby Hold On To Me” by Eddie Money and others.

Of course, whenever I didn’t see Miss Mary when I first walked into the Bon-Ton, I would see my second favorite waitress, Amber (not the one from the Backstop Emporium) who also remembered my usual meal.

One of my trips to the Bon-Ton resulted in something that made me a mini-legend.

I had a dental appointment during the first part of August to fill in a cavity at my dentist’s office (see my column on November 9th) and got ten shots of Novacain to numb my mouth, so to avoid embarassment, I took the entire day off from my job and went Downtown to try to eat lunch.

Conventional wisdom would tell you that 45 minutes after getting some dental work done, the idea of going to a diner to eat two cheeseburgers would not be an idea approved the American Dental Association with a still-sore mouth.

Well, that is what happened when I went down to the Bon-Ton after leaving my dentist in East Memphis.

Amber came to the stand where I normally sit and asked me what did I want, which was difficult to say because the left side of my mouth was still sore from the trip to the dentist.

“I’d like two cheeseburgers and a double order of fries,” I said with a muffled voice, “and a glass of sweet tea.”

“What wrong with your mouth?” she asked.

I pointed to the still-sore left jaw and said with a muffled voice, “I just came from the dentist and my left jaw is filled with ten shots of Novacain.”

“And you’re going to eat two cheeseburgers?”

“Of course,” I replied, “I’m going to eat them because I’ve done it before.”

When I got the two cheeseburgers, I took a sip from my sweet tea and then began to eat the first burger, only chewing the cheeseburger on the right side of my mouth to avoid adding pain to the left jaw, which was still puffy when I began to eat.

Amber came by again and refilled my cup with more tea as I began to eat the second one, this time defying all odds and forgetting the pain that was in my mouth.

As I finished eating the second cheeseburger, both Amber and Miss Mary were in complete shock that a guy who was 45 minutes removed from the dentist’s chair would eat two cheeseburgers with a very sore mouth.

Last month, when I was down at the Bon-Ton, I brought up that story to Miss Mary when I came in for lunch and mentioned to her the story and said that probably no one in the history of the Bon-Ton had ever done what I did on August 2nd and more than likely, no one would ever try to do that again.

At the beginning of the month, I made a phone call down to the Bon-Ton and asked Amber did they deliver to the corner of North Manassas and Chelsea, because I was trying to get the hell out of the office for lunch without any problems.

“We only deliver within walking distance,” she said to me on the phone, unknown to the fact who was on the other end of the phone.

“Wait a minute,” she said, “is this the guy that always comes in and orders two cheeseburgers?”

“Yes,” I replied in a deep voice.

Of course, that is another story.

“The Homer”

In continuing with the countdown of the 100 greatest events of 2006, this evening’s post will look back at number 84, when a scene that was appeared to be taken from “The Natural” made its way to the corner of Union and South Third.

As ironic as it sounds, I was born the year that the Robert Redford movie, The Natural, came out.

And if you’ve seen the movie like I have, you already know the story of Roy Hobbs, a washed-up ballplayer who helps a downtrodden team by hitting mammoth homers and leading the fictious New York Knights into contention.

You also know that Hobbs’ childhood sweetheart ends up returning to his life and suddenly rekindles the prowess that he had during his younger days.

Fast forward twenty-two years later when an aspiring sportswriter and broadcaster and a very chocolate and cute girl ends up sharing a summer full of memories, which is arguably one of the cutest stories in the history of Memphis professional baseball.

One of them which ended up being the backpage to a warm and muggy Wednesday afternoon at the corner of South Third and Union Avenue.

I was called in to do the game between the Oklahoma Redhawks and the Redbirds, the last Wednesday afternoon game of the season on June 14th.

Little did I know that on the same day, the now quasi-famous home run call would be used for the first time.

I had invited a guy who was from a sister church in Cleveland as my guest, who was celebrating his birthday that week, and I made sure that he was introduced to everybody in the Ballpark Gang before the game started.

When I got to the Entry Plaza, I noticed the chocolate cutie at the main gate and tried to avoid her because I knew she was busy.

At the same time, Michael Jackson’s “Butterflies” comes on over the speakers in the concourse as I looked out at the crowd of people in the Plaza.

I took my guest over to the main entrance and lo and behold, the chocolate cutie gives me a hug and we exchanged greetings.

I motioned my guest to come over to where I was standing with the chocolate cutie and introduced him to her.

After that was done, I kept trying to think of something to say this time around, instead of another autograph, which was my icebreaker from June 4th when I did the game between the Redbirds and New Orleans.

Finally, after a long pause, I decided to open up about my feelings, which I felt uncomfortable about because there’s absolutely no way she’s going to think a guy that she sees every once in a while is that head over heels for her.

“Who am I kidding?” I said to her as I looked at her, “I have a crush on you. I think you’re very cute.”

Another long pause.

Expecting what I always expected from these types of things when it comes to girls, I was trying to think of something to say when she started to smile at me.

“Well, I think you’re sweet,” she said to me as I kept trying to think of something to say in the sweltering Memphis summer.

Realizing that I wanted to get the story of how I ended up getting the teams on the air confused last summer when I met her for the first time off my chest, I took a deep breath and plunged forward with the detail of what happened when I went to the broadcast booth for the first time in 2005.

Which is when she started to smile and do this little nudge on my shoulder and smile again, which of course didn’t mean anything to me.

She’s just being nice.

After I finished saying what I had to say and going about my way, I went into the Ballpark Emporium and got a hold of Amber and told her what happened with me and the chocolate cutie.

“I did it,” I said to Amber, “I told her I liked her.”

“What did she say?” she asked me.

“Well, she thinks that I’m sweet,” replying in the monotone voice that I had always used when I knew something was going to go wrong.

Of course, I was not even thinking about using the home run call during the game, which was another loss for the Redbirds and even worse a shutout as the game progressed into the bottom of the ninth inning.

My other “big sis” Abbey was sitting up in the engineer’s chair when Mike Rose came up to the plate with the score being 5-0 in favor of the Redhawks.

As both my guest and I said during the game about the Redbirds working the count, Rose is working the count the way the Redbirds to that point in the season, wasn’t doing.

Rose fouls the 3-2 pitch into the first row of seats down the third base side, which is caught by a little kid.

Then it happened.

On the same day that I admitted my feelings for the chocolate cutie, the baseball gods and probably the course of my journalism career changed.

“3-2 to Rose…………Swing and a pop fly, back and you can goodnight, Miss Candy, it’s a homer!!!!!!!”

After that was said, my guest said in a gravel voice, “And the Redbirds are on the board!!!”

Realizing what had just happened, I said again, “Goodnight, Miss Candy, it’s………a……..Goner!!!”

And began to cackle and give high-fives to my guest and Abbey.

Of course, the bad thing about it was that they didn’t win the game.

But the home run laid the groundwork for some magic around the corner.

And she was compatiable

In continuing with the countdown of top 100 events of 2006, today’s post will look back at my failed attempt of pursing the city’s fine version of Marcie, number 85 on the countdown.

A year ago, I noted that 2005 was known in my opinion as the Year of the Cutie Pie, because I tried to pursue every damn girl under the sun and ultimately fail at it.

But during the late winter and early spring of this year, I attempted to flirt with one of my co-workers, the city’s fine version of Marcie.

Of course, my then-boss tried to convince me that my over-the-top personality was going to scare her off, which it did and I should forget about.

And true to my nature, I ignored his advice and tried to flirt anyway, which was pretty unprofessional of me to do because we both worked in the same department (can’t believe I’m saying this).

We did however, make some small talk and through some of that, I found out that she was a Pisces (good thing) and she causally followed basketball, which is a good thing as well.

When I told her that I liked her, we were out at the Memphis Zoo and much like it has happened on various occasions with girls that I think I might something good going with, she shoots me down.

Of course, the idea of it was pretty much a Catch-22, because as I said earlier, we both worked in the same department and it would not present a good look at all, which was what happened in my first year at the corner of North Manassas and Chelsea, when one of my friends’ girlfriend quit in the middle of May because of the complications that they had from working in the same place.

Which I understand now.

But back then, it was a different story.

“The Icebreaker”

In continuing with the top 100 events of 2006, this afternoon’s post will look back at number 86, when a Cardinals hat became an icebreaker.

For a guy that is normally shy around girls that he likes, the idea of trying to talk to a girl down at the corner of South Third and Union that I would see every once in a while was pretty much as laughable as George Bush and Kanye West collaborating on a track.

I had bought a Cardinals hat about a week before I did my next broadcast for Fan Radio, which was going to be during the second series with the Zephrys at the beginning of June.

As I did with a hat back in May, I figured that I would get the hat signed, this time for myself because the one I got signed in May was for my then-boss, who would be the guest in the booth on June 4th, when I did the game between the Zephrys and Redbirds.

Before the game, I went up to Kevin Estrada, Shaun Boyd, and Brian Esposito (the “legendary prankster”) and got them to sign my hat as well as a few of the Redhots prior to the game, which would make for a nice group of signature to wear on my head.

As I walked around looking for my then-boss, who caught up with me as I walked on the Boardwalk along the third-base side of the ballpark, I tried to see who was the girl out in the Entry Plaza.

Figuring that it might be the chocolate cutie and fearing that she might know about the secret admirer note that I wrote in a car two weeks before, I walked over to the other girl who was standing at the gate and asked if she would sign my hat, which she obliged.

After she signed the hat, I could feel my heart racing as I looked at the chocolate cutie and given the fact that I have an uneasy time talking to girls that I like, I figured the only thing I could say at the time was could I have her autograph.

When that happened, she knew about another hat that I got signed, which I explained to her, was a hat for my then-boss at my job that I got signed when the Redbirds faced the Zephrys on May 3rd.

And thinking that she didn’t know who I was, I said to her, “I’m Michelle and Sharika’s friend, Ryne.”

To my surprise, she remembered who I was and told me, “They said that you went to school with them.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I did.”

I don’t remember much of what was said afterwards by me, but I started to think of something to say, maybe some things about her, but for a minute I stood there and said nothing but look at her face.

When I finally thought of something to say after about 15 seconds, I said to her, “Well I do Fan Radio and I was wondering if I could use your name in my home run call, because I think you’re very cute.”

And then she was like, “What’s my name?”

If it was a Hilderbeast-looking girl, I probably would have forgotten.

But a girl as cute as that, not in a million years.

Barrel of laughs in the dentist’s chair

Continuing with the countdown, this morning’s post will look back at number 87, when a wave of laughs hit the dentist chair of Dr. Timothy Kutas.

For a long time, I always thought there was such thing as laughing gas when you went to the dentist. like the scenes that I’ve seen on television and in the movies.

Not because of some girl or anything that doesn’t even pertain to my visit to the dentist.

The week before, one of the fillings in my mouth came out (due in part to my overconsumption of chocolate) during the homestand the Redbirds had towards the end of the month.

Which led me to call Dr. Kutas from my office and explain to him that one of my filling came out the week before and I needed to come in and get it filled.

The day after the Redbirds went out of town to California, I went to Dr. Kutas’ office on North Highland Street to get the hole in my tooth fixed.

While Dr. Kutas and his assistant was preparing my mouth, all of a sudden I began to laugh ferociously in the dentist’s chair while Dr. Kutas was numbing the left side of my mouth.

“What’s so funny?” Dr. Kutas asked me as I continued to laugh off and on in the chair.

Remembering a scene from The Simpsons, when Lisa and Bart sang Christmas carols door to door while Homer went in from the back to steal Christmas presents as a way to give the family something for Christmas, I told him about the scene in that episode as I tried to contain my laughter in the chair.

Actually, it was a way to hide the stuff about bringing the chocolate cutie in the broadcast booth four weeks prior to my visit to the dentist.

“Sounds like someone’s in love,” he said to me as he got the fluids that was in my mouth from the numbing of the left side of my mouth.

Which is when I began to do more laughing in the chair, because personally, I knew for a fact that I did not fall in love with a girl that easily.

But as they worked on my mouth, I began to tell him the story of what happened on the Fourth.

“Well, I hope to see her whenever I’m down at the ballpark,” he said as he finished up filling the hole in my tooth.

“She’s very cute,” I said, “Very cute.”

As I got up from the chair and went into the bathroom to rinse my mouth, I found myself laughing still for no reason.

And letting out a big sigh and I left the office and headed north on Highland towards Summer and Highland to the Walgreens to buy some chocolates and roasted peanuts.

As well as laughing in the aisle where they had all the chocolate candy and peanuts.

When I went to the ballpark to see Amber and Steve the Fantasy Baseball Guru, they were asking me why I was laughing so much.

My response?

“I have no idea.”