The Trumpire Strikes Out

Last night, the Yankees, leading the Texas Rangers into the damp night 9th inning with one out, had a three-hour-plus rain delay and suffered an inexplicable loss that included three batters getting plunked like ducks in a shooting gallery.

The game itself was perilous because of the weather conditions which saw players playing not so much baseball but a mean game of slip and slide.

And what am I left thinking about this morning?

Orange Julius Caesar Trump and his Game of Throne (which until now has no doubt been a gold and ruby encrusted toilet).

That game and the Trump campaign to me are identical in virtually every single, double and triple way.

One was about rain, the other about a reign.

For sport, let’s keep the comparisons flowing.

Both have insane, over-the-top fans. Both love their big diamonds. Both feature men who wear baseball hats during their campaigns. Both have seats reserved for the privileged few. Both charge way too much for everything that they brand that have been no doubt outsourced. Both have older players who aren’t what they used to be. Both are franchises that prefer to be thought of as winners: the best and the greatest. Both have families whose heir apparent are the presumed kings and queens of the empire. Both built houses with their names EMBLAZONED on them as if, in the event they forget their address, they can easily spot their house from another state. Both replace players on demand. One has an umpire. The other has a Trumpire that does nothing but strike back. One lives for a big fall. The other, Trumpty Dumpty, is gonna have a big fall.

One features the boys of October. The other features the boy of No-vember.

And both have players who cheat and no doubt take performance enchanting drugs to get to the finish line.

And one can only hope that both were and are destined to lose. For the Yankees, there is always tomorrow, and one can only hope and pray that the reign of Orange Julius Caesar has an expiration date on it.

But what also struck me as I compared the two worlds can be summed up in one simple word: interminable.

I don’t know about you, but if I see one more wild-eyed, obviously lying, lunatic Trump spokeswoman open her yap one more time I am going to implode.

The most laughable one is the inexplicable Omarosa Nobody whose smug sense of self-importance is beyond comprehension.

And now to the point. Here’s the wind up… and the pitch:

I have had enough of the buffoonery, the illiterate responses, the lack of knowledge about ANYTHING when it comes to that political clown.

I am tired of the way that he is disgracing us. I am tired of the way that he has disgraced the office of the Presidency by assuming, like most children, that anyone can grow up to be President.

The problem is he will never, ever grow up. He is a twisted man-child who has lucked out simply because his tantrums match the tantrums of the huddled and bewildered masses.

The big difference between baseball and Trump ball is that in baseball sooner or later you to have to accept the fact that it is no longer appropriate for an older guy to run around dressed like a Little Leaguer. When the clock strikes the midnight hour of your career, you are expected to briefly wail like a four-year-old girl who can’t get a ticket to see Finding Dory and then embrace the mature future of your life.

For now, I am declaring the Trump season over. If Trump speaks, the TV goes off. If one of his idiot minions speak, the TV goes off. I would rather watch Korean soap operas then invest one more second of my valuable time on this confederacy of dunces and I urge you to join me.

Stop being his Super PAC. Stop extending the power of his brand by watching and listening and reacting. Let Elizabeth Warren take care of business.

Who you gonna call? Ballbusters!

It’s time for us to leave the boys of summer behind and hope that other ball game, the one that gets played on that Supreme Court, continues to do things like smack down that stupid attempt to ban abortions.

And let’s hope that other team, The Washington Senators of the GOP, are all sent back down to the minors where they belong.

It’s time for us to turn to the adults to show us how to play the game.

Play ball.

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