... a/k/a "Babci," which is Polish for grandmother, or "The Botch," as she is affectionately known in the small circle of family and friends.
The Botch is a family institution. The Botch is a huge Mets fan, and I mean HUGE with a capital HUGE. When I became a fan in about 1970 or so, I drew her into it, gradually, somewhat reluctantly, and then with great gusto and passion.... The Botch was one of the few of my pissant circle (and I say that with all due love and respect, those fuckers, lol) to actually watch the ball trickle through Billy Buckner's legs in Game Six, 1986. Everybody else but The Botch and I gave up on the Mets, and figured it was in the shitter, but oh, no, not The Botch. And thus, she and I were greatly rewarded, which renewed our faith in God, the Mets, and life in general *sigh.*
The Botch is a much beloved and legendary figure in the family, and is often given Mets gear of various types for birthdays, holidays, and just for, well, just for being The Botch. The Botch is the proud owner of many Mets shirts and caps, Mets shoelaces, a complete set of team cards for the 1986 Mets, a bunch of yearbooks, some pins, and some other cool stuff. Like a typical grandmother, she secretes these little treasures here and there, and one day I'm sure I'm going to find them all scattered in various drawers, jewelry boxes, closets, shitholes, and house hellholes, which we all have, right?
The Botch has no equals, and is the undisputed and unopposed head of the whack job nutsos that I call my circle of family and friends.
With all due love and respect, of course.
And last night, The Botch and I are watching the rebroadcast of yesterday's afternoon game against the Dodgers. She had been warned by yrs truly not to watch the original broadcast, nor to listen to the radio, nor to even approach any instrument of media which might reveal the final outcome to her. And when Deb talks, well... at least The Botch listens....if she feels like it. Oh, and thank God The Botch does not have the slightest idea how to operate a computer, or it would have been curses, Batman....
But anyway, so we're watching, and Shirley Beltran steps up to bat. And Gary Cohen talks about how he (Shirley) was out of the lineup the day before due to "flu-like symptoms."
So The Botch, in her very own indominable way, takes it in, and shouts in the general direction of the TV: "I hope he shit his pants!"
Then to me, of course, as I'm lmao, she says "For luck, of course, for luck!"
That's our Botch!
(Oh, and of course, this pic isn't really of The Botch, but, well, the general sentiment, and all, you know.... Rumor has it that she also was heard muttering shortly after the shit the pants remark something to the effect of "bunch of pussies...")