Last night, ESPN played one of their 30for30 documentaries and this one was called Catching Hell. It was about the infamous Steve Bartman and how he changed the course of history and the 2003 Cubs and how they choked away a chance to beat the Yankees in the World Series.
If you get a chance, I recommend watching one of it’s 8 million replays. It made for compelling television but like most documentaries these days, it failed to tell the whole truth—or, the truth was told from a certain point of view to hammer home an underlying point.
“You’ll find that a great many of the truths we cling to depend greatly upon our own point of view.” –Obi Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master
The point of this documentary was to show the classic theme, man’s inhumanity toward man. It opened with the hatred Bill Buckner experienced after missing a grounder between his legs in 1986 that cemented a World Series collapse and continued the Red Sox futility to win it all. It focused, however, on the incident in 2003, with the Cubs in Game 6 of the best-of-seven series with the Marlins. A Cubs win that day meant that the Cubs, after not having achieved the World Series since 1945, were going back to the World Series once again.
The Cubs were winning that game 3-0. We had our best pitcher on the mound and he was dealing and practically unhittable. Wrigley Field was JAM PACKED and Cubs fans who just wanted to be there filled the streets around the stadium so they could say that they were there and a part of the celebration. The city was abuzz—but that doesn’t do the state of the city accurately. Unless you live here, unless you’re a Cubs fan, unless you experienced it, you can’t possibly fathom what it felt like.
Just 5 outs away from a trip to the World Series, a foul ball was hit down the third base line. Moises Alou leaped to make a catch that replays show he almost certainly would have made. A fan named Steve Bartman (and many other fans in the area) reached out to catch the ball as a souvenir. Bartman’s hands were the ones that hit the ball though. He deflected it away from Alou and instead of having 2 outs in the inning the Marlins had new life.
Again, we get to one of those moments where, unless you were here, unless you were a Cubs fan, unless you truly understand what that entails you can’t possibly understand the aftermath of that fateful event. Cubs fans were waiting—just WAITING—for whatever was going to happen to pull the carpet out from under our dream. Cubs fans are Charlie Brown and Bartman was Lucy pulling the football away at the last second ensuring that once again, we wound up on our asses, covered in mud, laughed at, foolish and beaten.
The documentary showed the reaction of 40,000 people inside Wrigley and another 20,000 outside the walls—all of whom felt like they were on their asses, covered in mud, laughed at, foolish and beaten. They lashed out. Their target was this poor dork named Steve Bartman. He didn’t do anything that most other fans would have done in his situation. He didn’t do anything that other fans right next to him weren’t trying to do. His hands were the ones that hit the ball though. He was the one who changed the trajectory of the ball. And so, he became the symbol for changing the trajectory of our team.
Moises Alou threw a tantrum. Instead of handling it like a veteran player, he handled it like a toddler, told it’s time to go to bed. His antics exacerbated the situation. If he’d walked back to his position and played ball, none of this would matter. He didn’t. He acted like a child. The city deflated in that instant. We had a knowing feeling in the pit of our stomachs. We were Charlie Brown, in that final millisecond when his foot has started forward and it’s too late to stop and he recognizes that the ball is being pulled away.
We met the girl of our dreams and some dorky looking guy in a green turtleneck stole her away the day of our wedding. It was heartbreak.
Now, there were significant events that happened after that. There was still one out in the inning and the next play was an easy grounder to shortstop Alex Gonzalez that should have been a routine double play. He booted it. He kicked it. He flubbed it. If he’d made that play, like he’d made dozens of times that season the Cubs would still have made it to the World Series. That play, more than anything was the defining moment when it all went south.
Manager Dusty Baker sat on his ass and did nothing. He had a rattled team and he didn’t do anything to calm them down. A manager in baseball has so few things he needs to do but this was a moment when he truly could have felt the pulse of the situation, realized that everyone needed to take a deep breath and gone out to the mound to settle everyone down. He failed. The Marlins went on to score 9 runs.
It was over. The burden of not having won, the pressure of winning not only for that team, but all the teams and players and fans that came before them proved to be too much. The 7th game was lost as well. The Cubs, only 5 outs away from the Promised Land, had failed once again.
The documentary makes the Cubs fans look cruel and unfairly casts them in a poor light. Their immediate treatment of Bartman certainly warrants that and there was no excuse for the treatment he got from surrounding fans, but it’s greatest shortcoming as a documentary was the failure to place it all in the proper context.
It used the idea of the curse as context. It made the reaction of the fans out to be a reaction based on a curse. Make no mistake about it, Cubs fans feel snake-bitten, unlucky, unfortunate and like fate is against them, but the idea of the Curse of the Billy Goat is just kind of a fun, cute way to encapsulate that feeling. The curse is something that only a very small portion of Cubs fandom takes seriously. More than anything else, it’s part of a tradition. It’s something to talk about and joke about as a means of explaining the unexplainable. It’s hearing a bump in the night and telling your wife that it must be a ghost as a means of breaking the tension and the immediate feeling of fear that might accompany it before realizing it was just the dog.
It made it out to seem as if all Cubs fans placed blame on Bartman. That was never true. The fans were angry that night and looking to lash out and they did. There is no excuse for that. Ask ANY Cubs fan to this day where it all went wrong and just like with the curse, they’ll make the joke that it was Bartman because he is the symbol. But any real Cubs fan will go on to lay the true blame at the feet of one of three people: Moises Alou, Alex Gonzalez or Dusty Baker and most likely, all of them. Bartman was the symbol. Alou, Gonzalez and Baker were the ones who collectively failed. There’s no real debate about that here in Chicago. It’s the reason Baker gets booed every trip he makes back to Wrigley Field managing other teams. It’s the reason you don’t see Alou or Gonzalez making any appearances in a city that LOVES it’s former greats.
The documentary makes it seem like Cubs fans ignored the true culprits and focused all attention and energy and hatred on Steve Bartman. That is false. The media focused all the attention and energy and hatred on Steve Bartman. And as sure as extremist political opinions on “news” channels incite angry people to false and idiotic points of view, so did the way the media grabbed this story, held on to it and kept after it help to draw out the loud and unintelligent who always need someone to blame.
The Cubs choked, after it seemed that it was finally going to be the year. Steve Bartman was just the punchline to the joke. And even that was and continues to be unfair—no doubt about it, but I promise you that any Cubs fan, when asked about Bartman, will immediately talk about the groundball hit to Gonzalez. That’s a fact. It’s a fact that wasn’t pointed out in Catching Hell.
In fact, Catching Hell seemed to go out of its way to protect the media. Oh, it placed a piece of the pie at their feet but it was a small slice and the underlying tone was always that while it was unfortunate, they were just being responsible journalists and doing their jobs with as much integrity as they could. In fact, Steve Bartman was salt that the media got to use to throw into the gaping wound of a dispirited and disappointed city who had come to believe only to be let down once again.
Cubs fans don’t feel any animosity toward Steve Bartman today. He is and forever will be part of the lore and part of the punch line the same way the Billy Goat Curse is but the man lives and works in Chicago to this day. His reclusiveness and his exile are self-imposed. It’s perfectly understandable that he would choose to do so, he was treated HORRIBLY that night by the worst of the Cubs fans. But the people who threw beer at him weren’t the ones sitting next to him. They were the whack jobs who came from all over the park, drunk and stupid as fans often are at sporting events.
The newspapers, the local news shows, the national media all focused on Bartman. Alex Gonzalez’s error wasn’t the leading story anywhere. No one thought that it was a good idea to publish Gonzalez’s address in a newspaper. They had no such issues with releasing Steve Bartman’s address though. If the media had focused on the actual news, Bartman would be a footnote. There’s no romance, intrigue and excitement in that though. Players make errors every day. Managers fail to do their jobs and players throw tantrums all the time. That’s a one-day story. Bartman offered the media a chance to run with something for weeks. They took it. The play itself incited the idiots in the crowd. The media incited all the rest of the idiots in the third largest city in the U.S.
And they were convincing. They got a lot of us. They incited a lot of anger and it was easy to blame Steve Bartman, it was easy to make him the symbol of failure.
Catching Hell seemed to want to show the dark side of man. It wanted to show how cruel fans could be. It made the city of Chicago and it’s people out to be small and petty. It failed to make it’s audience understand what that trip to the World Series would have meant to us. It failed to give an accurate account of the silent majority. It further amplified the voice of a loud minority and it left the media virtually blameless and in many ways, even reluctant and noble.
That’s not what happened. That’s not how it went down. That’s what happens when a Boston Red Sox fan makes a documentary about the Chicago Cubs. Make no mistake, Steve Bartman is a tragic and unfortunate scapegoat. He has suffered pointlessly and cruelly. But if you think you got the whole story from watching Catching Hell, you’re wrong. You got a biased and uneducated version from someone who applied what he knew—the situation with Bill Buckner in Boston, to something he didn’t know—the situation with the 2003 Cubs and while there are similarities, it just wasn’t the same. The situations are not the same and they never were. The perspective of Catching Hell was clouded by a Red Sox fan’s perspective and point of view. And that is why it failed. It made for great television. It was very compelling. It just wasn’t very accurate and that’s sad because the real story is one worth telling.
Showing posts with label Chicago Cubs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chicago Cubs. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Too Much BS in TBS
I’m still reeling from the loss of my beloved Cubbies in game one in the best of 5 playoff series against the Los Angeles Dodgers and don’t really want to talk about the game itself yet right now, so I’ll speak of the game itself only in the periphery. I actually knew what I was going to write about today while the Cubs were still winning the game though, and that is the God-awful job TBS is doing covering the divisional series.
TBS, the Turner Broadcasting System, is the home to the Atlanta Braves telecasts during the season, but big Teddy Turner bought the rights to divisional playoff baseball and now we’re stuck with him until the contract runs out.
The problem with a station like TBS getting the games is that they don’t really have a stable of competent announcers to cover the games. Take decrepit, old Dick Stockton for instance, perhaps no one puts more BS in TBS than he does.
Simply put, there is no worse baseball play-by-play man in the entire world than Dick Stockton. He’d made more mistakes before the first pitch than most broadcasters make in an entire season. You’d think a professional PBP man could, at very least, remember that Lou Pinella manages the Cubs and Joe Torre the Dodgers. Or that Ryan Dempster’s first name is, in fact, Ryan and not Brian.
To say that Dick Stockton is a bad announcer is truly an understudy! Oops, I mean an understatement. Yeah. Old Dickie got that wrong too, saying that, “to say this is a big series would be an understudy.” An understudy? Really Dick?
The bigger tragedy is that because the play by play man is so weak, so are the color commentators who are left to blab without direction. It’s horrible. Tony Gwynn and Ron Darling, the color commentators, flounder like goldfish on carpet without a strong lead to use them effectively.
And if the game announcers are bad, the in-studio show is painful. Memo to Dennis Eckersley: The 70’s are over. Please unfeather your hair and step away from the microphone. Cal Ripken, you are baseball’s Iron Man so how is it that your commentary is so incredibly anemic? And the idea of having a current player, in this case Curtis Granderson as one of the commentators is just plain stupid. How can you expect a guy to give an honest opinion about pitchers he knows he’s going to have to look out at again next season? You can bet your ass he’s not going to knock some guy who can stick a 94 mph fastball in his ear hole next spring!
From top to bottom, the TBS team was bush league. They may get away with this sort of thing for the NBA playoffs, but that’s because they host regular season games, have an in-studio team that has worked the entire season and play-by-play and color analysts who are already on staff—and actually work their sport for the entire season, not just the playoffs.
Fox and ESPN both have the resources to broadcast these games properly, but obviously were outbid by Turner for the games. Major League Baseball sold out to the highest bidder instead of ensuring that the integrity of the games was assured. And so, for the divisional series, we’re left with a rag-tag group of past their prime and never weres to broadcast the games and it’s truly painful to endure.
TBS may have the money to buy the games, but they obviously don’t have the resources to broadcast them well. They are fiercely ill-equipped to do these games justice. Every August, the Little League World Series has more professional coverage than the MLB Divisional Series is getting from TBS, and that’s no understudy.
TBS, the Turner Broadcasting System, is the home to the Atlanta Braves telecasts during the season, but big Teddy Turner bought the rights to divisional playoff baseball and now we’re stuck with him until the contract runs out.
The problem with a station like TBS getting the games is that they don’t really have a stable of competent announcers to cover the games. Take decrepit, old Dick Stockton for instance, perhaps no one puts more BS in TBS than he does.
Simply put, there is no worse baseball play-by-play man in the entire world than Dick Stockton. He’d made more mistakes before the first pitch than most broadcasters make in an entire season. You’d think a professional PBP man could, at very least, remember that Lou Pinella manages the Cubs and Joe Torre the Dodgers. Or that Ryan Dempster’s first name is, in fact, Ryan and not Brian.
To say that Dick Stockton is a bad announcer is truly an understudy! Oops, I mean an understatement. Yeah. Old Dickie got that wrong too, saying that, “to say this is a big series would be an understudy.” An understudy? Really Dick?
The bigger tragedy is that because the play by play man is so weak, so are the color commentators who are left to blab without direction. It’s horrible. Tony Gwynn and Ron Darling, the color commentators, flounder like goldfish on carpet without a strong lead to use them effectively.
And if the game announcers are bad, the in-studio show is painful. Memo to Dennis Eckersley: The 70’s are over. Please unfeather your hair and step away from the microphone. Cal Ripken, you are baseball’s Iron Man so how is it that your commentary is so incredibly anemic? And the idea of having a current player, in this case Curtis Granderson as one of the commentators is just plain stupid. How can you expect a guy to give an honest opinion about pitchers he knows he’s going to have to look out at again next season? You can bet your ass he’s not going to knock some guy who can stick a 94 mph fastball in his ear hole next spring!
From top to bottom, the TBS team was bush league. They may get away with this sort of thing for the NBA playoffs, but that’s because they host regular season games, have an in-studio team that has worked the entire season and play-by-play and color analysts who are already on staff—and actually work their sport for the entire season, not just the playoffs.
Fox and ESPN both have the resources to broadcast these games properly, but obviously were outbid by Turner for the games. Major League Baseball sold out to the highest bidder instead of ensuring that the integrity of the games was assured. And so, for the divisional series, we’re left with a rag-tag group of past their prime and never weres to broadcast the games and it’s truly painful to endure.
TBS may have the money to buy the games, but they obviously don’t have the resources to broadcast them well. They are fiercely ill-equipped to do these games justice. Every August, the Little League World Series has more professional coverage than the MLB Divisional Series is getting from TBS, and that’s no understudy.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Waiting til...this year?
Cubs fans have learned to spend their lives waiting. Waiting for the other foot to drop, waiting for the championship that’s eluded us for the past century, waiting, is simply what we do.
Tom Petty once said that the, “waiting, is the hardest part.” I’d normally qualify that by mentioning that he was talking about love, not baseball, but the truth of the matter is that perhaps no love is so true as that between the Cubs and their fans.
The Chicago Cubs have, for years, toiled in mediocrity and worse. Every so often, they tease us just enough to make us believe that this just might be the year, that this time, it may be real, that curses will be broken and droughts ended and every time, invariably, in the end, we’re left crushed and defeated.
So, days like this past Saturday are rare ones indeed. For one day, after one game, for a little while at least, we Cubs fans learned what it’s like to exhale. The Cubs clinched the divisional Championship and a spot in the playoffs. The sports world in general has been expecting this all year and so nationally, not much fuss was made. On the same day, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays clinched their first divisional title in their short franchise history and that news seemed to trump what was seen as the inevitability of the Cubs winning theirs this year.
Inevitable isn’t a word we Cubs fans can understand or appreciate though. Sure, we all believe somewhere deep down that a Cubs World Championship is inevitable—that it will happen at some point, that fate can only deny us for so long, but we also know better than to believe that it may actually happen in our lifetimes.
So, with this Saturday’s win, and the subsequent celebration we fans were afforded the rare opportunity of taking a couple of days off. We can learn the joys of breathing deeply and relaxing. We can watch a game and not live and die with every single pitch. We can actually lose games through the rest of the season without any anxiety.
Of course, this only lasts a week or so. Soon the playoffs begin and our throats will tighten, we’ll inhale and hold, our anxiousness will return—and all will be magnified. That’s the way the playoffs are for any fan of any team though. We Cubs fans simply practice it all year long.
Now it’s time to enjoy our week off though. There’s no need to wait for the other foot to drop because we’ve already assured ourselves a place in the big dance. And while we’re still waiting for our long sought World Series Championship, we can rest and relax content, knowing that we’ve earned a chance to compete for it again.
Normally, this kind of peace is reserved the offseason, for the winters when hope rebuilds inside of us and renews itself for another shot at another quest for that which eludes us. We’re not used to having this time to rebuild our hope as we rest up for the next phase of the journey. And so it is, with hope renewed, breath exhaled, anxiety temporarily relieved, we look to the future and dare to believe that this might really be the year.
Please God, let his be the year?
Tom Petty once said that the, “waiting, is the hardest part.” I’d normally qualify that by mentioning that he was talking about love, not baseball, but the truth of the matter is that perhaps no love is so true as that between the Cubs and their fans.
The Chicago Cubs have, for years, toiled in mediocrity and worse. Every so often, they tease us just enough to make us believe that this just might be the year, that this time, it may be real, that curses will be broken and droughts ended and every time, invariably, in the end, we’re left crushed and defeated.
So, days like this past Saturday are rare ones indeed. For one day, after one game, for a little while at least, we Cubs fans learned what it’s like to exhale. The Cubs clinched the divisional Championship and a spot in the playoffs. The sports world in general has been expecting this all year and so nationally, not much fuss was made. On the same day, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays clinched their first divisional title in their short franchise history and that news seemed to trump what was seen as the inevitability of the Cubs winning theirs this year.
Inevitable isn’t a word we Cubs fans can understand or appreciate though. Sure, we all believe somewhere deep down that a Cubs World Championship is inevitable—that it will happen at some point, that fate can only deny us for so long, but we also know better than to believe that it may actually happen in our lifetimes.
So, with this Saturday’s win, and the subsequent celebration we fans were afforded the rare opportunity of taking a couple of days off. We can learn the joys of breathing deeply and relaxing. We can watch a game and not live and die with every single pitch. We can actually lose games through the rest of the season without any anxiety.
Of course, this only lasts a week or so. Soon the playoffs begin and our throats will tighten, we’ll inhale and hold, our anxiousness will return—and all will be magnified. That’s the way the playoffs are for any fan of any team though. We Cubs fans simply practice it all year long.
Now it’s time to enjoy our week off though. There’s no need to wait for the other foot to drop because we’ve already assured ourselves a place in the big dance. And while we’re still waiting for our long sought World Series Championship, we can rest and relax content, knowing that we’ve earned a chance to compete for it again.
Normally, this kind of peace is reserved the offseason, for the winters when hope rebuilds inside of us and renews itself for another shot at another quest for that which eludes us. We’re not used to having this time to rebuild our hope as we rest up for the next phase of the journey. And so it is, with hope renewed, breath exhaled, anxiety temporarily relieved, we look to the future and dare to believe that this might really be the year.
Please God, let his be the year?
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Random Thoughts
Random thoughts:
Well, we’re still here, so I guess the Large Hadron Collider didn’t kill us all huh? Of course, it’ll be a few months before it’s up to full power, so don’t get too cozy or anything, okay? And if, by chance this one doesn’t kill us all, cheer up, they already have plans for a more powerful replacement!
That said, something good has already come from the experiment, Kim Jong Il, under the enormous stress and pressure of having to worry about someone other than him destroying the world went and had himself a stroke. Is it wrong to hear that a guy had a stroke and be happy about it? First Castro, now KJI, you’ve got to figure Bush is next in the whole, strokes for megalomaniacal leaders campaign right?
Speaking of President Bush having a stroke, what happens if the side of his mouth that he currently talks through is the one that shuts down?
I’ve officially reached the point in this election process where I’d prefer to have a pig and a pitbull, both wearing lipstick of course, than Obama, McCain, Biden or Palin as the leaders of my country.
Now that I think about it, Dick Cheney speaks out of one side of his mouth too. Note to self, watch the candidates speaking—don’t pay attention to the bullshit coming out of course—find out if they have the full usage of their mouths when speaking. Vote for the pair that seems to have the best oral control—coincidentally, the same way I choose my dates! Come on, it’s better than choosing based on the lies their all telling, isn’t it?
Read back a bit. I warned you all about Ike. That is all.
The one balled wonder, Lance Armstrong is coming out of retirement to ride in that little bike race they have in France every year. That’s nice. I hope the reporters finally ask him the questions that count this time though. I don’t care about his trysts with the Olsen twins, or about doping allegations, just once I want a reporter to ask him the only thing we all really want to know about him—which side of the seat does the remaining ball ride on Lance?
Hey Jerry Seinfeld, nice commercial about nothing! Who knew that Bill Gates jiggling his ass would be the highlight of a commercial with you in it huh? Is it just me or was there something slightly homoerotic about that commercial? Leather. Ass wiggling. One man—who isn’t a shoe salesman—helping another put his shoes on. I’m not saying…I’m just saying. You know, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Tom Brady is out for the year with a knee injury. That may suck if you’re a fan of the New England Patriots, but how cool is it if you’re Tom Brady huh? Not only do you not get the crap beat out of you for the next few months, but you get to have Gisele Bundchen as your personal nurse! THIS is the stuff fantasies are made of folks.
Finally, this losing streak by my beloved Chicago Cubs must be getting to me. This morning, I went through the drive thru at Dunkin Donuts for my usual summer fare consisting of a large Iced Coffee and an order of hash browns. When they brought the Iced Coffee to the window, it was a medium instead of a large. The window girl got very frustrated and I thought she was about to open a can of whoopass on her staff, but what she did instead literally left me speechless.
She walked down to where the Iced Coffee was, got out a large cup, put more ice in it, then poured the contents of the medium into the large glass with extra ice and brought it back to me with a smile on her face.
I literally stared at her with my mouth wide open for what seemed like 4 or 5 hours. I was too stunned to speak. Noticing that I was having a little trouble moving on, the girl smiled at me and said, “have a nice day!”
So, I left and tried to have a nice day with my medium coffee in a large coffee cup and I’ve got to tell you, when 1:30 pm came around that the LHC didn’t wipe out existence, I was actually a little disappointed.
You just can’t win. At least I can’t.
Well, we’re still here, so I guess the Large Hadron Collider didn’t kill us all huh? Of course, it’ll be a few months before it’s up to full power, so don’t get too cozy or anything, okay? And if, by chance this one doesn’t kill us all, cheer up, they already have plans for a more powerful replacement!
That said, something good has already come from the experiment, Kim Jong Il, under the enormous stress and pressure of having to worry about someone other than him destroying the world went and had himself a stroke. Is it wrong to hear that a guy had a stroke and be happy about it? First Castro, now KJI, you’ve got to figure Bush is next in the whole, strokes for megalomaniacal leaders campaign right?
Speaking of President Bush having a stroke, what happens if the side of his mouth that he currently talks through is the one that shuts down?
I’ve officially reached the point in this election process where I’d prefer to have a pig and a pitbull, both wearing lipstick of course, than Obama, McCain, Biden or Palin as the leaders of my country.
Now that I think about it, Dick Cheney speaks out of one side of his mouth too. Note to self, watch the candidates speaking—don’t pay attention to the bullshit coming out of course—find out if they have the full usage of their mouths when speaking. Vote for the pair that seems to have the best oral control—coincidentally, the same way I choose my dates! Come on, it’s better than choosing based on the lies their all telling, isn’t it?
Read back a bit. I warned you all about Ike. That is all.
The one balled wonder, Lance Armstrong is coming out of retirement to ride in that little bike race they have in France every year. That’s nice. I hope the reporters finally ask him the questions that count this time though. I don’t care about his trysts with the Olsen twins, or about doping allegations, just once I want a reporter to ask him the only thing we all really want to know about him—which side of the seat does the remaining ball ride on Lance?
Hey Jerry Seinfeld, nice commercial about nothing! Who knew that Bill Gates jiggling his ass would be the highlight of a commercial with you in it huh? Is it just me or was there something slightly homoerotic about that commercial? Leather. Ass wiggling. One man—who isn’t a shoe salesman—helping another put his shoes on. I’m not saying…I’m just saying. You know, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Tom Brady is out for the year with a knee injury. That may suck if you’re a fan of the New England Patriots, but how cool is it if you’re Tom Brady huh? Not only do you not get the crap beat out of you for the next few months, but you get to have Gisele Bundchen as your personal nurse! THIS is the stuff fantasies are made of folks.
Finally, this losing streak by my beloved Chicago Cubs must be getting to me. This morning, I went through the drive thru at Dunkin Donuts for my usual summer fare consisting of a large Iced Coffee and an order of hash browns. When they brought the Iced Coffee to the window, it was a medium instead of a large. The window girl got very frustrated and I thought she was about to open a can of whoopass on her staff, but what she did instead literally left me speechless.
She walked down to where the Iced Coffee was, got out a large cup, put more ice in it, then poured the contents of the medium into the large glass with extra ice and brought it back to me with a smile on her face.
I literally stared at her with my mouth wide open for what seemed like 4 or 5 hours. I was too stunned to speak. Noticing that I was having a little trouble moving on, the girl smiled at me and said, “have a nice day!”
So, I left and tried to have a nice day with my medium coffee in a large coffee cup and I’ve got to tell you, when 1:30 pm came around that the LHC didn’t wipe out existence, I was actually a little disappointed.
You just can’t win. At least I can’t.
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