The Fault In Our Reds Stars

The following assemblage rendezvoused for the Monday June 9, 2014 7:10 pm showing of the summer blockbuster The Fault In Our Reds Stars:

From left to right;  Mr Heavy Artillery, Kuertz's better half The Lady Cassandra making her Heavy Artillery debut (congratulations, and welcome!), the aforementioned Kuertz, Boo, Ashley Ashleigh Ashlee we only just met and I don't yet know the correct spelling of her name but she's really wonderful Mizz Boo and The Incomparable Joe Wilhelm.

The Fault In Our Reds Stars SPOILER:  They don't hit with RISP.

Later in the evening we were graced by the presence of one of my sources from deep within the Reds organization, codenamed BOSS (unpictured).  Also unpictured is my other source deep within the Reds organization, codenamed CAMPBELL, whose duties prevented him from stopping by to chill for a few.  Well, one out of two ain't bad.  Unless it comes to Scoreboard Stumpers, in which case the mighty THS grads you see here.....

.....perform at a superlative 80% clip [Hey, Joe!  Look there at the far left.  Is that a Mila Kunis photo bomb?!]:

Since 1990, 5 Major League pitchers have had seasons in which they pitched at least 150 innings and had an ERA under 2.

Roger Clemens (1.93 in 1990 & 1.87 in 2005), Clayton Kershaw (1.83 in 2013), Greg Maddux (1.56 in 1994 & 1.63 in 1995), Pedro Martinez (1.90 in 1997 & 1.74 in 2000) were the four we nailed, rapid-fire.  Kevin Brown (1.89 in 1996) was the one we didn't get.  Upon having the correct answers revealed, I said to Boo, "Hey!  We batted .800!" to which Boo responded, "I'd take that any season."  

Quite [credit: Jonathan Quayle Higgins].

Unlike those halcyon days of 1980s yesteryear when we were regular denizens of the Top Six seats at old Riverfront Stadium ($3 a seat with a view of everything, including West Virginia), these days we infiltrate - with considerable assistance from covert operatives - the exclusive echelons of Cincinnati's elite patrons of Redleg baseball:

Here's the view from the Club (but not from our seats):

The Toddfather stands in the batters' box, above, that familiar knock-kneed stance shared by so many non-athletic Little Leaguers unmistakable.

The Reds batting was typically anemic (as I said via text the next night to western North Carolina's foremost expert in all things paleological; If the Reds hitters were fixing games ala the 1919 Black Sox... how could anybody tell?).  The hurling of Tony Cingrani was hurl-errific.  Resultingly, the Fox Sports Ohio Champions Club was approaching ghost town levels of population density by the 8th inning:

That evacuation left more frozen sweet treats for the faithful who remained until the bitter end:

The bitter end was made just that much less bitter thanks to the multiple ice cream bars I murdered.

Roll the credits!