Yes, long before Matt Kemp and Rihanna, there was Mike Marshall and Belinda Carlisle. From Lips Unsealed:
One night I received an unexpected call in my hotel room from a young man who said his name, Mike Marshall, and then paused in a way where I could tell he expected me to recognize who he was. I didn't.Oh, Jesus. This is going to end poorly.
"I play for the Los Angeles Dodgers," he said.
I still didn't recognize his name, but I knew the Dodgers. As a girl who was never able to get the football player in high school, I realized I had something even better on the line: a professional ballplayer. Not just any old ballplayer either. He was an L.A. Dodger.
I don't know if it was boredom or intrigue, or a combination of both, but I was interested. When I asked him to tell me about being a Dodger, he explained he was considered a good player, and that he'd actually won the minor league Triple Crown the year before and was now in the major leagues, which was pretty exciting.
"So are you good?" I asked teasingly.
"I hit a home run my first time up to bat at Dodger Stadium," he said.
"Yeah, but are you good?"
The first call turned into a nightly occurrence that I looked forward to. I liked the back-and-forth volley with this strange man. Without him knowing, I tooted up during the call and spewed what I described as my coke rap.No, see, Belinda. As any self-respecting Giants fan can tell you, that is exactly why you don't want to date him. And of course he was ugly. He was a Dodger. Come on. Dodgers players torture little girls, exploit third world labor, leave the toilet seat up, and basically do every horrible thing a human being can possibly do.
Our conversations quickly moved past playful flirtations and turned into more intimate explorations. It was like a game of Truth or Dare - a drug in and of itself.
I had no idea what Mike looked like or that his teammates had nicknamed him Moose for his thick, lumbering physique. He was a Dodger; that was intriguing enough ... We finally arranged to rendezvous before our show in Santa Cruz. When I saw him for the first time, I didn't think he was handsome or cute. I don't know what image I had in mind, but he reminded me of Lurch, the butler on the old TV series The Addams Family.
However, as I repeatedly told my friends later on, almost as if I needed to convince myself, he was a Dodger.
Still, I can't exactly picture Belinda dating Jack Clark. In other words, if you were determined to date an ugly baseball boyfriend, Belinda, I'm glad you chose a Dodger.
3 comments:
Mike Marshall has a special place in Dodger-scum-villainy:
http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1454&dat=19870423&id=GFFIAAAAIBAJ&sjid=-hMEAAAAIBAJ&pg=6850,2663567
O, how I hate him.
75 fans ejected? 20 cited for public drunkenness? Three policemen injured? Ah, the good old days at Candlestick.
"Fans behind the dugout got in their licks by dousing some Dodgers with beer and other things.
'It was disgusting the way those fans behaved,' Los Angeles manager Tom Lasorda said. 'They're a disgrace to the U.S.A. What gives them the right to throw things at ballplayers?'"
Oh gimme a break, Lasorda. You were just jealous they weren't pouring the beer directly into your big fat mouth.
In other news: it's nice to know I can read the entirety of the Wilmington Morning Star on the internet.
To me, your blog makes sense from the moment you got addicted to Belinda Carlisle. Is all I have to say about that. That and Thank you!
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