I usually use these web pages to tear apart theories and half-cocked ideas that I have about baseball and other things, but not today. TODAY, is hopefully clinching day as the White Sox have a double dip in Cleveland, with the magic number being 2. Nope, today I have to tell you about something I have been holding onto for a LONG. DAMN. TIME. A dream……
It’s weird to even talk about dreams. The BeefLoaf doesn’t really recall many of his dreams. Maybe my brain realized at a young age when I was having terrifying dreams about WGN’s ads for the Exorcist as a kid (I still can’t really listen to Tubular Bells) that repressing most of what goes on when my eye lids are snapped shut is a good coping mechanism. Maybe it’s also just the fact that I never write down anything I dream, which is allegedly a good way to remember dreams. I’m good. I can leave that shit exactly where it is.
It’s also possible that some of the weird premonitions I have had in my past are part of it too. Back in ~1996, I kept having this series of dreams heading up into the Thanksgiving holiday where I could see people I knew all crowded around something, with lots of tears and sad faces. It was some public event, but I couldn’t place it in my normal life. Later that week a friend of mines father passed away in a very public place. I’ve been spooked ever since. I usually don’t tell that story, because most people either want to ask more about it, which I can’t explain. Or they think I’m a liar. Either way, it’s generally not worth bringing up, but for this I will.
Get On With the Dream Already Beef…..
This dream was about Yoan Moncada.
I know, most of yous reading this are going to say “Oh yea, I’ve had a dream or two about Yoan Moncada”. Nah, it wasn’t like that. This was the late winter of 2016, shortly after the trade that brought Moncada to the White Sox and sent Chris Sale to Boston.
I’ll recall what I can, but as I noted previously, dream recall of mine is sketchy at best.
It was a White Sox home game, it was cold. Like jackets and skull caps weather. I have pretty clear visions of MySoxSummer and Chorizy being near me in the stands as we are watching this game. I can’t remember the opponent, nor do I know what exactly the score was as my dream is foggy as hell. What I do remember is that it was a packed fucking house, which would lead me to believe this game was hella important. I also remember that Moncada was hitting left handed and smashed a home run, a walk-off home run into the left field bleachers. Yes, an OPPO-TACO. To end the game.
I can remember us celebrating in the stands and beer flying everywhere. This game was of some major importance and Yoan Moncada had just walked it off with an opposite field home run. Then I woke up in a sweat. Not from a flu or anything, this was more major adrenaline from what I had just dreamed. What I had just seen in my brain.
On the backdrop of Yoan Moncada having a fairly meek 2021 season in the power department, it would be kinda funny if this did come true in some way, shape or form. Normally I keep these things to myself, but I figured, just once, on clinching day, I’d share some of my own personal weirdness.