Comments on: A Bad Burlesque Show http://www.john-carlton.com/2005/06/02/a_bad_burlesque/ insight, tactics, advice and mutterings on copywriting, marketing and living life deep... from the most ripped-off world-class ad writer alive... Thu, 04 Dec 2008 04:14:41 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.2 By: Kevin http://www.john-carlton.com/2005/06/02/a_bad_burlesque/#comment-157 Kevin Wed, 06 Jul 2005 04:59:05 +0000 http://www.john-carlton.com/2005/06/02/a_bad_burlesque/#comment-157 Superstitions? Not many. But stepping over the foul lines on a baseball field was the one unwritten rule I never dared violate. Ever. Never even realized I was doing it until at age 51, I made my manager's trip to the mound to pull a struggling pitcher from my daughter's 6TH GRADE SOFTBALL TEAM. A sixth grade girl's softball team fer chrissakes. And the only reason I realized I did it was because my wife casually mentioned to a gal-pal in the stands something like, "Watch this. He'll walk over the foul line and never touch the chalk" Sure enough I came through, much to the amusement of the female contingent in the stands. On the contrary, the men in the bleachers were in almost universal agreement with my action, nodding and saying things like, "That's the way it is..." and,"You gotta have played the game to know why..." After I thought about it I realized that doing what I did brought back, if only for a brief, bittersweet moment, the joy of I received from playing baseball in my younger days. Little League, Babe Ruth, American Legion, High School. So, I'll continue do it. Cuz it makes me feel good. Oh yeah, I also cover my mouth with my hand while talking to a pitcher or batter. Never can be sure which one of the opposing coaches are lip readers, ya know. Superstitions?
Not many.
But stepping over the foul lines on a baseball field was the one unwritten rule I never dared violate. Ever.
Never even realized I was doing it until at age 51, I made my manager’s trip to the mound to pull a struggling pitcher from my daughter’s 6TH GRADE SOFTBALL TEAM.
A sixth grade girl’s softball team fer chrissakes.
And the only reason I realized I did it was because my wife casually mentioned to a gal-pal in the stands something like, “Watch this. He’ll walk over the foul line and never touch the chalk”
Sure enough I came through, much to the amusement of the female contingent in the stands.
On the contrary, the men in the bleachers were in almost universal agreement with my action, nodding and saying things like, “That’s the way it is…” and,”You gotta have played the game to know why…”
After I thought about it I realized that doing what I did brought back, if only for a brief, bittersweet moment, the joy of I received from playing baseball in my younger days. Little League, Babe Ruth, American Legion, High School.
So, I’ll continue do it. Cuz it makes me feel good.
Oh yeah, I also cover my mouth with my hand while talking to a pitcher or batter.
Never can be sure which one of the opposing coaches are lip readers, ya know.

]]> By: Michael http://www.john-carlton.com/2005/06/02/a_bad_burlesque/#comment-128 Michael Sat, 04 Jun 2005 06:20:25 +0000 http://www.john-carlton.com/2005/06/02/a_bad_burlesque/#comment-128 Superstitions? Oh yeah, by the truckload. Played pro ball in the Chicago Cubs organization. Only embarrased by the second half of that sentence, though. I was a closer. You know, the go to guy late in the game when the marbles were on the line. Loved it. But couldn't pitch if I didn't pull the pants on the same way when suiting up. Left first, then right. There, too, was the dump I always had to take during batting practice (probably just nerves) and the spikes... jet black. Nothing less. Funny thing was, all the guys had their superstitions. Didn't talk about it though -- that was a superstition! Superstitions? Oh yeah, by the truckload.

Played pro ball in the Chicago Cubs organization. Only embarrased by the second half of that sentence, though.

I was a closer. You know, the go to guy late in the game when the marbles were on the line. Loved it. But couldn’t pitch if I didn’t pull the pants on the same way when suiting up. Left first, then right.

There, too, was the dump I always had to take during batting practice (probably just nerves) and the spikes… jet black. Nothing less.

Funny thing was, all the guys had their superstitions. Didn’t talk about it though — that was a superstition!

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