Yes, you’re right:
we’ve got to give the sartorial edge to the Cavemen. We have
never seen anybody play baseball naked before except in those creepy
dreams we keep having. Here, though, are the Cavemen, naked and filthy
and covered in hair, and something about the sight of their roster
waving their bats and pounding their fists into their mitts is wonderful
beyond belief. Be that as it may, though, we’d probably go ahead
and bet the farm on the Expos if we were the betting type, because
they know how to play baseball, and they’ve got a real solid
idea of how to use the equipment, and they’ve got a seasoned
coach giving decent advice at every turn, even if they don’t
have the support they deserve from a cynical baseball commissioner
who envisions some dark unimaginably greedy future in which hope-springs-eternal
teams like the Expos and Twins don’t even play any more, while
the teams that do play do so not for local baseball fans who’ve
come out to support the team but for bloated family outings, off-putting
church groups, the occasional photo-op seeking politician or actor,
and several skyboxes full of visiting businessmen, none of whom bring
passion for the game to the stadium but all of whom will happily pay
outrageous fees for a lousy hot dog and some truly shitty beer.
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