When Mighty Casey struck out, he may have disappointed the fans of Mudville, but he didn’t insult them. He didn’t brand them racists. Or at least Ernest Lawrence Thayer—the poet who immortalized Casey’s big whiff—didn’t mention any such calumnious castigations in his delightful ditty of the diamond.
But this isn’t 1888—the publication date of Casey at the Bat. No, it’s 2011—the much more modern and much less civilized era of loudmouthed serial interrupters like “Hardball’s” Chris Matthews, who makes rude conquerors like Alexander the Great look polite by comparison.
Used as I (and I suspect you) am to Matthews’ cheesecloth logic and scattershot, half-cocked accusations, I make it a point to miss “Hardball” as often as possible. When Fate is kind, on any given week I am able to miss all five episodes of The Interrupter’s Diatribe-Disguised-as-Dialogue program. Not catching Chris’ hour of senile logorrhea gives one a rare feeling of euphoria—akin to finding a free parking spot in downtown Chicago on a Saturday night, or—back in the days when apartment life compelled me to frequent laundromats—finding a vacant dryer with time still paid for on it. Missing ”Hardball” is just one of those simple pleasures in life that puts a little extra spring in your step and a smile on your face. I’m grateful to MSNBC for affording me this little weekly bit of heaven on earth—missing “Hardball”—especially now that I can no longer thrill to missing “Countdown with Keith Olbermann” five times a week.







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