Creeping Inexorably Toward A Worthwhile Sub-Heading.
Monday, February 23, 2004
Ten Fingers in Search of a Topic
I'm working on a series of longer pieces that I intend to post on consecutive days, and since my goal is to not have the massive gulfs between related posts that was the plague of the Assuming the Position series, I'm trying to complete most of the work before I start serving them up for general consumption.
As a result, I am bereft of baseball material, and the lack of news beyond what suspected slight is separating some surplus shortstops in Tampa (oh, for the adoration of alliteration, how I wish the Yankees sojourned in Sarasota!) leaves me with meager inspiration. I have no choice but to turn to the abstract and ask myself, if he were alive and blogging in my stead, what would Luigi Pirandello do?
Ten Fingers in Search of a Topic
Translated from the original Italian
Daytime. A desk and computer.
BLOGGER: It is Monday. The weekend is over, and it is time for me to post. But there is nothing to write about! Spring Training has begun and all the news is about "chemistry" and "new attitudes" and "fresh starts." I suppose I will have to find some strange and hilarious news items on Yahoo to wittily comment on.
WIFE: Sweetie?! There's a baseball player here to see you.
BLOGGER: A player? Here?!? But that's impossible! I am an informed outsider, I don't talk to players! Besides, I'm writing. You know perfectly well no one's allowed to come in while I'm writing.
WIFE: Don't be rude! He's standing right behind you.
A-ROD: Hello. I'm Alex Rodriguez, shortst...uh...third baseman for the New York Yankees.
A-ROD: I'm terribly sorry to bother you, sir, but I was looking for a new post on your blog.
BLOGGER: There is nothing to write about. There is no new post.
A-ROD: So much the better! I can be your new post!
BLOGGER: You?! But everyone's read all they can stand about you.
A-ROD: Yet, my story hasn't been fully told. All anyone talks about is how much I get paid, how I've ruined baseball, and how much Derek Jeter hates me. No one has written of my pain.
BLOGGER: And that is why you have come to me? To write of your pain?
A-ROD: Yes! It will be an exclusive. You can tell the whole world how I truly feel!
BLOGGER: But nobody cares. Look, I feel bad that no one in the media is willing to look past the money and praise your extraordinary talent, but my writing about your "true feelings" is going to read like a PR statement. Besides, I found this great story about exploding beer bottles in China. I know funny, and that's funny.
A-ROD: Is that what you want your blog to be? Mere mindless diversions for the e-masses? I'm offering you the opportunity of a lifetime! You can be the only one to unlock the depths of this superstar's soul.
BLOGGER: Sorry, I can't help you. There's an article about a coffee shop in Maine that's been licenced to use topless waitresses, and it says they decided to disrobe their servers because of "stiff competition." No way I can let that slide.
A-ROD: That's disgusting! Have you no shame?!
WIFE: No. No, he doesn't.
BLOGGER: Really, I don't.
A-ROD: Enough! If you would rather write of spontaneously detonating beverages and gratuitous breast exposure, then I'll have to find someone else to tell my story. Do you have Phil Rogers' number?
BLOGGER reaches for his Rolodex as the lights slowly fade and the