Reflecting On "The Start"

Not to be one of those "told ya' so" type of dudes, but...I told ya' so.

Joba's 2 1/3 inning "start" on Tuesday night was strange and sad on many levels. I have thought long and hard about how to address it; how to capture the essence of the evening, especially as Chamberlain labored through 37 1st inning pitches. What were the sights, sounds, tastes, and smells that defined the moment? This is what I've come up with:

Do you remember that old Saturday Night Live sketch in which Jason Priestley plays a figure skater who has worked all his life to make it to the Olympics and his moment has finally arrived? And he steps onto the ice, with his mother, who we are told drove him each early morning to the ice rink several hours from their home, watching nervously from the stands? And on the first leap of his program he falls on his face, illiciting a pained "Oh!" from the commentators (Phil Hartman and Dana Carvey) as they realize the dream is over for this young man? But he gets up, continues to skate, and proceeds to fall every 3-4 seconds until we finally see his lifeless, motionless body sliding across the ice as the announcers begin promoting the events we'll see later in the the night?

That's kind of what I was thinking about as I watched Joba pitch.
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