There’s no DMV today as I’m still reeling from seeing Miguel Batista take the hill. Imagine that …
You’re a Nats fan. No, you’re such a Nats superfan you actually blog about the team all the time and make Nats-themed t-shirts (see above) and so on. And you happen to live six hours from D.C. but are in town for this one Strasburg start and this one Strasburg start only.
You’ve gathered a couple of good friends for the occasion, and your dad is even able to make it out to the park. You arrive without tickets but snag standing-room-only passes just in time. The four of you make it up to Red Loft as Andray Blatche (“Bulletproof!”) throws out the first pitch, and you grab four cold, $8 beers. You lean in, on your toes to see over the folks on the rail.
Way down there, down in the twilight, the Nats emerge. You squint to see which one’s Strasburg, the one everyone in the packed house came to see. But what’s that? Who’s that on the mound, all the way down?
Miguel fucking Batista.
So, yeah. Batista did a fine job, and the Nats won. But we only saw the half of it before heading to Justin’s Cafe for a nightcap of microbrews and pizza. Justin’s is a good place. I recommend it.
But still. The DMV will return as scheduled tomorrow, and the next day.