The Kansas City Royals have collapsed like a paper tent in a rainstorm, but the swoon hasn’t dulled my enthusiasm for the boys in blue. LATE NOTE: Maybe George Brett’s appointment as hitting coach Thursday afternoon will make a difference — there’s always hope.
Sometimes, though, I have to steel myself. I try not to question Ned Yost’s wisdom as manager, although it’s difficult at times. Such as Wednesday night when Aaron Crow flew in from the bullpen and opened the flood gates for a Cardinal victory. I had labored, obviously delusional, under the impression the Royals were breaking out of their funk, and maybe that occurred Thursday night in their rain-soaked 4-2 victory.
It is a long season, I tell myself. More than 100 games remain and anything can happen, although that has been a recurring rationalization of mine for nearly 50 years.
I began following major league baseball when the Philadelphia A’s moved to Kansas City in 1955.
Those early days had a bit of a circus atmosphere. Many of the A’s players were cast-offs — usually from the Yankees — or young players who never lived up to expectations. Hank Bauer, a former Yankee star, played at old Municipal Stadium in the twilight of his career. Lou Klimchock was a whiz-bang minor league hitter, but never could solve major league pitching.
My interest bordered on obsession, to the point that several seasons I never missed a single game. I had a Hitachi transistor radio with an earphone that kept me in touch with the play-by-play.
I’ve seen my share of games in Kansas City, even watched Jim Colborn pitch a no-hitter against the Texas Rangers in 1977.
Nowadays, most of my viewing is from an easy chair, with a computer nearby so I can occupy myself with something else when futility on the TV screen exceeds my tolerance.
KC Royals testing this fan’s patience
