The Baseball-Cat Marriage is Ready; It’s Ready

This happens tomorrow.

You, you’re here with me, on the internet. So doubtless you’ve seen this:

Hero Cat

I know, right?

But you may not realize this brings about the final age of baseball. Writers know the best stories have inevitable endings — those stories that can end only one way — Juliet, Romeo, they must die — Yossarian must never leave the island but by desertion — and Finnegan’s Wake must, um, riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs… James Joyce is a helluva drug.

I diverged. This brings baseball to its final, most golden age. The Cat-Baseball Era.

We have seen them previously attempt donning baseball uniforms with, eh, let’s call it general success:

cat walk

They have DJ’d our games and plushed our hats:

We have theorized what this world would look like:

tumblr_lzdbwkhptp1rpaugbo1_500

And here:

tumblr_lzthmyl7Rv1rq75ono1_500

And our best-guessed alternatives to the Abner Doubleday myth have presupposed this relationship:

catcherevolution

And here:

katzball

And now Julio Franco, at age 55, is joining the Fort Worth Cats. Leave it to the wise veteran to get in on the ground floor of this thing — and I, for another, welcome our new cat overlords.

Hat tip: Thanks, mom.



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Bradley writes for FanGraphs and The Hardball Times. Follow him on Twitter @BradleyWoodrum.


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