Because of Rod Beck, Ms. Domin-Nik.

Quick answer to Notthat: There is no Dorky Looking, if the ball goes in.

And here is an answer for Ms. Domin-nik, but you'll have to read to the bottom.

It was a baseball weekend for the ages, as long as you're not a fan of the Braindead Caribbeans. The Stiletto City Plotzers came to town, brought out the brooms and swept up the place with the hometown team. It was totally surprising for The Great Plotnik, who has rooted for the Plotzers since before they became the Plotzers (in 2005). He saw all the great Plotzer players, like Duke Plotzer and Sandy Plotzer and Big Frank Plotzer and even the legendary Carl Plotzillo. He loved Plotzer manager Tommy LaPlotzer and hated Plotzer manager Walter Plotzer.

He also remembers all those awful, miserable, terrible, draining and deathlike moments when the Plotzers were defeated by the hated Caribbeans. He can still see Brian Johnson's homerun disappearing into the Candlestick afternoon in 1997, as 50,000 delirious fans screamed in ecstacy and pounded Plotnik on the back, as he sat with his face in his hands staring at the gum on the concrete floor. The world didn't end right then, but it sure felt like it.

Which brings us to today's sermon, children. In this past Saturday's game, Plotnik's beloved Plotzers loaded the bases with nobody out in extra innings. When the next Plotzer batter came to the plate, Plotnik KNEW, and that is KNEW with a capital K N E and W, that the count would run to 3 balls, no strikes, and he also knew that there would be a double play and a strikeout and nobody would score. He would have bet his house, and his car, and his basketball shoes and even Baby Isabella's precious pink booties.

Why? Because !!&@^#%$ Brian Johnson hit his %$&#*%&@! homerun in 1997 in the bottom of the 11th Inning, but in the TOP of the 11th Inning the Plotzers had loaded the bases with nobody out and the count ran to 3-0. Plotnik can tell you who was up (Todd Zeile), what color his bat was (brown) and how sure he was of victory that day.

The problem was, and apparently still is, Rod Beck. Rod Beck was pitching for the Braindead Caribbeans at that moment in 1997, and since Rod Beck died only a few months ago (he and Brian Johnson were the same age - 29 - in 1997), Rod is still watching these games from the Celestial Bleachers. Saturday, he shined down from Heaven with his Beer Bong and made the exact same thing happen again -- double play, strikeout, inning over, no score.

Plotnik is positive it was Rod Beck, rising from the grave once more, two days ago. It was !!*(@*#$&$^! him.

What does this prove? That there is a Heaven and there is a Hell and they can show up at any moment during a baseball game between these two teams, and even the dead can influence the outcome. All you can do is hold your breath and keep watching, Mistress Domin-Nik. Sometimes it helps to construct a shrine out of old brandy bottles and baseball cards, but not always. You never know which deceased Plotzer or Caribbean will reach down and ruin everything. It's out of our hands. THAT'S why Plottie loves it so much, hallelulujah and amen.

Rod Beck gets a tip o' the cap this morning. Now go bother somebody else, willya?