Winter is upon us, baseball season is over, and despite my fervent following of the NFL in the past, I find that I just don’t have as much interest in the grid-iron anymore. But before I wax nostalgic about the change in seasons, I must admit living in Los Angeles doesn’t give you much opportunity to do so, and that is just as well as I don’t like snow, rain, or cold weather in general. I sadly (or joyously, depending on how you see it) sit around in my spare time, enjoying the small pleasures of existence, drinking beers and watching you tube videos of baseball games from the 60’s and 70’s. If I need a break from the constant blather of the television, I’ll turn the son of a bitch off and enjoy the silence while researching a few players from the past that may have had a unique, interesting or challenging life.
Bris Lord’s life wasn’t exactly unique or interesting. Mr. Lord’s nickname was “the human eyeball.” His middle name was Robot Ham. Ok, so it was Robotham, but bear with me here. Robot Ham was also involved in one of the most lop-sided trades in MLB history as he was acquired from the Cleveland Naps for “Shoeless” Joe Jackson. I suppose “Bris” is an interesting name, which means the Jewish right of circumcision performed on the male child on the 8th day of his life. But before you start contemplating how strange it is/was to be named after your schlong getting butchered, the man’s actual name was Bristol. Perhaps Sarah Palin named her daughter after him. (I would insert a Palin dick -joke here but that would just be too obvious and out-dated.) Now before anyone gets any bright ideas, I want the readers to know that I just happen to be circumcised. I heard that it’s “cleaner,” but I was also told that my sex life wont be as intense because of the sensitivity of the foreskin that I now lack… so it’s a double-edged sword. You can’t win.
“The Ham” wasn’t much of a player, as he only had a career .256 average. I found a newspaper from January 17th, 1912 that had a small article titled “Bris Lord is taught to bat by Connie.” I thought that was a bit laughable as Connie Mack retired with a career batting average of .242, 16 points behind Robot Ham’s career mark. I much prefer the “dog days” of the baseball season, because the dog days of winter have you writing articles like this. I think I’ll go read that Paul Auster novel that I’ve put off for awhile. I’ll stop by the store for more beer and chat with the Indian guy about how L.A. needs a football team and how fucked up young people are today. Dog days, indeed.