I did a pod about re AROD, offering my hot takes on the retirement decision/Sunday's press conference, which was really just another weird moment in a career full of weird moments. But I don't think I adequately portrayed my appreciation for this weirdness. In so many ways, he was the anti-Jeter: a player who was not hyper-savvy when it came to handling the media and PR, and was in fact so woefully bad at those things that they overshadowed the fact that he was one of the best ten humans to play a game 10,000s of humans have been playing professionally for over 150 years. AROD was a WEIRDO. He kissed himself in the mirror. Centaur painting above the bed. Jeter sleepovers (which, btw, WEIRD JETER). His thing for female bodybuilders. Cousin Yuri. Peeing on Cousin Yuri's floor. The Boston slap play. It goes on and on. Feel free to google any of that stuff. The point is that AROD was my favorite baseball player and I'm a little bit sad right now. Hopefully Friday night against the Rays––which is a weird way to end things––will be, well, one last flurry of weirdness. And four homers to get to 700.
Monday, August 8, 2016
I did a pod about re AROD, offering my hot takes on the retirement decision/Sunday's press conference, which was really just another weird moment in a career full of weird moments. But I don't think I adequately portrayed my appreciation for this weirdness. In so many ways, he was the anti-Jeter: a player who was not hyper-savvy when it came to handling the media and PR, and was in fact so woefully bad at those things that they overshadowed the fact that he was one of the best ten humans to play a game 10,000s of humans have been playing professionally for over 150 years. AROD was a WEIRDO. He kissed himself in the mirror. Centaur painting above the bed. Jeter sleepovers (which, btw, WEIRD JETER). His thing for female bodybuilders. Cousin Yuri. Peeing on Cousin Yuri's floor. The Boston slap play. It goes on and on. Feel free to google any of that stuff. The point is that AROD was my favorite baseball player and I'm a little bit sad right now. Hopefully Friday night against the Rays––which is a weird way to end things––will be, well, one last flurry of weirdness. And four homers to get to 700.
