The big baseball news here in the Northwest is the release of a player named Eric Byrnes from the Seattle Mariners. Because our masochism stops at cycling in Seattle’s freezing spring downpours, we do not attend Mariners games or even follow the woeful club’s cavalcade of 1-run losses (many of them walkoffs) throughout the season. But apparently Byrnes committed the cardinal sin of failing to make contact on a squeeze bunt play the other night. Ichiro almost stole home even so, but was tagged out. You see what we mean about masochism.
In any case, what caught our eye was the alleged coda to Byrnes’ misfortune:
But then Byrnes’ night got even more wacky. He bolted out the front door of the clubhouse riding his bicycle mere minutes after the game ended. He made a right turn down a tunnel and then made a 90-degree left turn around approaching Mariners general manager Jack Zduriencik before he could make eye contact.
Today’s news stories refer to this maneuver as Byrnes’ “bizarre exit on a bicycle.”
Wacky? Bizarre? Exactly how? On the rare occasion when I submit myself to the humiliation and despair of a Mariners game, I always ride my bike. You can park right outside the stadium and make your exit extremely quickly and efficiently, leaving behind the only wacky or bizarre aspect of the evening — the communal wallowing in their beer of the suffering minions shuffling disconsolately back to the silent coffin-like embrace of their plastic-and-steel vehicles.
Breezily escaping aboard your bike, you leave all your troubles at the exit gate. How quickly you are back to feeling good about the world, despite what you’ve had to endure the previous three hours!