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Welcoming The Weekend With George Brett Losing His Mind

This is an all time moment from George Brett. A Hall of Fame tantrum. The anger Brett puts on display here is as real and primal as it gets.

George Brett Monument by Bryce Edwards is licensed under CC BY 2.0

Welcoming The Weekend With George Brett Losing His Mind


Estimated Reading Time: 2 Minutes

You made it! It’s finally the end of another work week. Sure, the weekend has lost a bit of its luster lately, but no work is still no work, even if it is just sitting at home doing nothing. I mean, unless you have kids or a family or responsibilities and if so, that’s a “you” problem.

This is an all-time moment from George Brett. A Hall of Fame tantrum. The anger Brett puts on display here is as real and primal as it gets. Most of the time we get a bit of performance art when a player gets upset over a call. Sure, they are mad but there are not violent intentions even when their teammates hold them back. It’s a lot of theater.

Not with George Brett.

I firmly believe if no one was there to hold him back George would have done a murder. That man was full of bad intentions. I also love the meeting of the minds around the bat. Examining that thing like some sort of wooden Zapruder film. Measuring it all out. Getting all scientific about it and taking just enough time to justify the inevitable out and reversal. They even rush the bat off the field to be ‘examined by the league office’ as if it is some sort of murder weapon they have to get to the crime lab before the DNA is contaminated. I’m surprised they didn’t slip it into a little evidence bag first. It’s all just so great.

Then there’s Billy Martin. What a snake. Waiting until Brett launches one into the bleachers before coming out and complaining about the pine tar. Such a little brother tattling move. An absolute rat. I’d expect nothing less from a Yankee.

One More Thing…

Since we are on the topic of George Brett, I’d be remiss if I didn’t also include that time he shit his pants. Happy Friday!

Josh grew up in the midwest and upon graduating from the University of Iowa he wanted to see the world. After 4 years in Jacksonville he decided he was cultured enough and moved on to Birmingham England (known to the locals as the Detroit of the UK) and then west to San Francisco before settling in NYC. He pays his bills working in finance making sure the 1% remains on top. When he is not selling his soul and unable to look himself in the mirror, he spends his time writing mean things about sports while his dog, Sweet Dee, silently judges from her spot on the couch. He is very biased and never wrong. He would also like to thank Rotowire for never changing their NBA League Pass and MLB.TV passwords from that year when he was an NBA Beat Writer for the Nuggets for some reason.

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