You are Forgiven, My Son

So yesterday, we head out to the Braves/Expos game at the Ted.

Note: The Bravos are doing pretty well this year - as usual - but most likely won't get past the playoffs - as usual. My money is on the fact that if the Bravos make it to the Big Seven, Bobby Cox will finally retire. Speaking of Bobby Cox, I heard him on a radio interview last week and he sounded like the sweetest old man in the world. For those who don't know the real Bobby, he has a potty-mouth worse than IbeJO and the MLB loves to fine him for some of his more colourful, choice phrases.

Anyway, as we were walking in, I asked Roomie if Rafael Furcal would be playing. If you didn't know, Raffie got his second DUI last week (with only a couple of weeks left from his first probation, too - OUCH!) I guess I just assumed he'd still be in the pokie on game day, but I forgot that he works for the Ted. So as Raffie goes up to bat, the crowd gives a light-hearted applause and I figure, hmmmmm, Atlanta is still pissed about him screwing around with another DUI, but then he hits the ball flat out of the park and the crowd goes wild. We forgive ya, Raffie.

But we do have very short memories in Atlanta, especially for our Bravos. A couple of years ago, Chipper Jones got busted when the media found out their darling, married, Bible-thumpin' Baby-Chipper was poking a Hooter's chick and had an illegitimate kid with her. Granted, Chipper took it in the shorts when his wife sued for divorce and I'm sure the Bravos fined the shit out of him, but ask anyone now how they feel about Chipper, and they'll say, "What Hooter's chick".

Regardless, it was a beautiful day and a great game. We (and a bunch of others) left in the bottom of the 7th thinking that the Bravos had the game in hand. By the time we got home (and we live 5 minutes from the Ted), Montreal jumped up and bit us in the butt. Bravos finally pulled it out in the 12th inning.