Bo Jackson, 1994 Topps
Ya’ know what I’m sick and tired of? Bees. You know who agrees with me? Bo freakin’ Jackson.
I honestly cannot recall a situation where a bee showed up and made things better. What’s their deal, anyway? The main reason I don’t like bees is because—and I don’t want to get too much into science here—they can sting you. And they will! For no reason. Sometimes I will discover a bee in my car and my natural instinct is to react as if I am on fire and my main priority becomes getting the bee out of the car rather than paying attention to what else is happening on the road. I am more fearful of getting pinched with a miniscule stinger than getting into a multi-car accident.
Is my reaction to bees embarrassing? No. Ya’ know why? Because Bo Jackson reacts the same way:
On 9-26-93,
Write that date down. It will be important should anyone ever ask if you remember the exact day that Bo Jackson got attacked by a bee.
Bo was chased from the batter’s box to the dugout by a bee.
Bo Jackson played 12 professional sports and could bench-press a tank while eating a sandwich made of glass. Yet even he was not immune to the clear and present danger of bees. I mean really, a grown man trying to do his job getting harassed by a stupid little bee … IS THERE NO END TO THEIR WRATH?! If only someone had the guts and wherewithal to show those bees—or at least a bee—that we’re not gonna stand for this abuse!
He stepped back in and stung a pitch for a home run.
Ha! Score one for the good guys (humans)! Nothing shuts a bee up quicker than a home run. That stupid bee thought he could distract Bo Jackson? Pfft. After getting chased back to the dugout like a ninny and not coming back until he was certain the bee was gone, Bo Jackson was like, “Alright, enough. Let’s play some baseball.” Also, not sure if you caught this, but he didn’t just hit the pitch—he stung it. See, Bo turned things around and did what the bee could have done to him to a baseball, in a figuratively descriptive sense, because you can’t really sting a ball with a wooden bat. But still!
It’s never been confirmed, but I like to believe that the pitcher that day, Kenny Rogers, set aside the politics of baseball for a moment, recognized the statement that needed to be made to bees all over the world, and just grooved one right in there. That, or he was just pitching like Kenny Rogers.
Also, needless to say, this assault on bees obviously excludes the loyal bumblebees who work in baseball. There are some good ones out there.
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