Thursday, December 25, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
The saintly one glowed, as he did in his pre-digital days. He described the fundamental elements of his platform, the first of which was employed effectively during the Mosaic administration, forgiveness of all debt! He read from the fifteenth chapter of Deuteronomy: "At the end of every seven years thou shalt make a release. And this is the manner of the release: Every creditor that lendeth ought unto his neighbour shall release it; he shall not exact it of his neighbour, or of his brother; because it is called the Lord's release." Saint Holiday promised that he would cancel all personal and institutional debt for every American during his first week in office, employing the divinely-inspired program defined in the Bible. "Every debt, whether in the character of a mortgage, promissory note, credit card debt or any other, shall be declared null and void. No one will owe anyone anything!"
Faster than three Mississippi's, the holy man presented the second plank of his platform: "A check in every pot!" He explained, "During the first 100 days of my presidency, I will direct the US Treasury to issue a check for one million dollars to every household in America earning less than $200,000.00 per year. This money will be backed by the value of all land owned by the federal government. There will be no poverty in this nation during my administration!"
It was impossible to control the enthusiasm of the crowd, gathered around the saintly candidate, after they heard him give his historic speech. Now that his supply of cerebral cells is down to manageable size, he appears more fit than ever to take the helm of this great nation. For a moment, Saint Holiday almost slipped and engaged in critical thought, but he caught himself in the knock of time and excused himself to return to the sanctuary of his Show Low residence to huddle with his political advisers. In a few weeks, he intends to begin his national campaign from the comfort of his personal blimp, hovering over crowds to deliver his exciting speeches and to fight against egregious collocations of vocables, wherever these are spewed.
In a related matter, Saint Holiday's spokesperson confirmed that the holy one did indeed have a mezuzah implanted in the forefront of his skull during his recent surgery. He would be pleased if his followers would kiss or touch him gently upon the forehead as opportunities for such sacred intimacy present themselves.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Happy Birthday, Abidoo! I'll love you forever.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
The patient was awake throughout the operation and was able to carry on a conversation of sorts with the circling surgeons, nurses, media reps and members of the Obama Transition team. "I feel rattled," he said. "Someone Kevork me; I hurt," he mumbled. When asked if he would like an analgesic for the pain, St. Holiday replied, "No, that part of me is fine. Do you have a headogesic?"
A sort of minor figure among Show Low's Holy Illuminati, St. Holiday, whose very voice in days long past could make a preacher cry, confess and check into rehab, had noticed a diminishment of all his geek signifiers ever since his days as a Cold War superspy (code name: Deep Thought) and his debut in the national tabloids. Many have mentioned that every time he speaks, something ordinary comes out of his mouth, something mundane and unremarkable.Upon seeing him for the first time, laid out on the operating table, a nurse said, "I can't believe how powerful he looks in person!" One of his surgeons replied, "Except for his body and soul, he is just like you and me." "Doesn't he look natural!" another said. "With his head shaved like that and his tongue hanging out, he kinda looks like a capital Q," added the saintly one's wife, who has a fondness for surgical procedures and insisted upon being in the operating room during the entire 16-hour operation. As a nurse shaved his head in preparation for the craniotomy, St. Holiday amused her and onlookers by singing a jingle from the '50's, made famous by Fearless Fosdick himself, "Wildroot Cream-Oil, Charlie!" This was followed by his stirring rendition of another old jingle, "Bryl-Cream, a little dab will do ya. She'll love to run her fingers through your hair."
Prior to the operation, St. Holiday put in brutal 8-hour shifts at his tee-shirt factory, The Bustin' T Party, and struggled to find energy for his quirky adaptation of the play "Death Takes a Holiday." When the Spirit moved him, he spent time playing rap records backwards, listening for cloaked messages from the angels. If the operation proves to be a success, we might hope that the holy man will recommence his retreat from private life and continue to make his small contribution to society by varnishing harsh truths for the sake of his posterity and his adoring disciples. It is also to be hoped that the surgery will influence his sins of humor.
St. Holiday's children tried to talk him out of the risky surgery, saying, "Dad, you're just doing this for your insanity defense. Besides, you haven't made your will yet or chosen your taxidermist." Despite his children's preference for cryogenic taxidermy, St. Holiday often speaks of his desired interment at Coopertown Burying Ground, where many of his ancestors are awaiting the morning of the First Resurrection. Now it appears that his burial will be accomplished on an installment plan, inasmuch as his excised dead brain cells and a canister of dead skin cells from a Kirby Vacuum Cleaner demonstration on his own bed were collected and mixed together for early burial at his Coopertown plot. A special graveside service is planned for the event, with Tina Turner singing, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot."
As a sidenote, St. Holiday has named his new dog, Bark Obama, in honor of the victor in the Nation's presidential campaign. There is hope that the pup icon will become the first dog on the moon, a true lunar rover.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
In a completely unrelated development, closely connected to the afore-mentioned proceedings, we have learned that attorneys for St. Holiday and his wife are finalizing an agreement of reconciliation. This week, the holy man's embarrassed wife fled to Albuquerque to avoid her commitment at the White Mountain Institute for the Clinically Addicted. The discovery of her chocolate addiction was widely reported last week through the organs of our national media. Informed sources are saying that agents for the two are applying last touches to an accord, which will permit each of them to consume liberal amounts of chocolate without criticism from the other. It is now expected that the Lovely One will join her husband tomorrow at the International Lego League Championship.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
This revelation of his wife's duplicity could not have come at a worse time. Paying the wages, principle, interest, tithing and taxes of old age, tectonic pressures of daily life have placed St. Holiday a mere heartbeat away from the low swing of the sweet chariot. In his mind, he has always been the shirtless, dirty coalman, shoveling coal endlessly into the locomotive's unsatiated steam furnace, vainly hoping for the station at the end of the eternal tracks. Recent events have thrust the holy man from the comforts of domesticity and from the maternal care he has always craved. He has worked at the limits of his strength, quelling national rebellions, and struggling against enormous odds to express his deep-seated opposition to resistance in all its contrary forms. However, he has learned through it all that patrician cheekbones can only get one so far. In his world of ruptures, the Lovely One always supplied the trusses. Nevertheless, it is expected that he will haul her hallelujah corpus down to the White Mountain Institute for the Clinically Addicted and enroll her in the same program that recently upholstered him for recovery.
Our sung hero is intensely public and notoriously reluctant to discuss his personal life anyplace but on television, radio, the internet, in all forms of print media, face to face or by telephone. However, in view of today's distressing revelation, he has decided to quit all public speaking in order to spend more time with his family. He will recommence communication tomorrow.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
There he was, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, singing, "Felines; nothing more than felines! trying to forget you, and these felines of love!" when the first call came. He listened as the Lovely One whimpered on the phone, allowing himself to be drawn from his great, overarching ideas into a few moments of pity for his anguished bride. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know I've hurt you deeply. You didn't deserve what I've done to you. I was carried away by infatuation. O, how can you ever forgive me? I was so wrong! Did you get your paycheck yet?"
"Come home," he replied. "Let's take it one stipulation at a time."
Since the collapse of the subprime market, Saint Holiday's struggle to find liquidity led him to the Ganges. There, among a poor and simple people, the holy man was inspired from on high. He now plans to establish the Equatorial Center for Middle Intermediacy, where he shall assume a state of equipoise in this unbalanced world, and where he shall offer courses for mental and emotional steadiness and physical equilibrium to the masses of staggering humanity. Voila le philosophe! Here is a man to be wrecked with. In the alternative, he has been training to become a hand model.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The Relief Society has changed. It used to give more relief. Back in the day, representatives of that once charitable organization would show up faster than Dominoes Pizza, whenever a cry went out for help managing the gross domestic product of his children. Jenna, Ethan, Josiah, Amanda, Micah, Hannah, Abigail, Noah and Jonah were all beneficiaries of the Relief Society's Sacred Diaper Changing Service, during those difficult times when their angel mother was hospitalized to deliver a baby or to be treated for some disease. After such a long and satisfying history, one could hardly blame St. Holiday for assuming that the Relief Society could be relied upon to save him in the hour of this latest category five emergency. It was not to be. The poor man was left to deal with the dire consequences of his wife's cruel departure alone. He may never forgive her.
A children's choir sang Panis Angelicus outside the saintly one's Show Low retreat, as he brought the heavy bag of used cat food to the trash. Then he headed for the airport to catch the first of several flights that would take him eventually to Global India, where he plans to bathe in the Ganges, soaking with the ashes of the dead, in an attempt to restore the pure patina of saintliness that, until today, was a grace to gaze upon. When asked who would tend to the cat box in his absence, St. Holiday said simply, "The Sisters of Mercy."
Monday, September 29, 2008
Our readers are aware of the mythic struggle St. Holiday has had with a chocolate addiction run amok, and it may be too early to tell whether his stay at the White Mountain Institute for the Clinically Addicted was effective or not. When asked whether he has thrown off the chains of chocolate addiction at last, he replied, "I'm just taking it one bite, um, I mean, one step at a time. I'm relying upon a higher power." This correspondent could not tell whether St. Holiday was referring to a Divine Power or to The Feed, from which he may soon receive a large bailout payment. Trouble has henned him long before the Great Westward Migration of his family, but many have viewed him as the author of his own problems. Weakly supervised for too long, St. Holiday has been failing and on the verge of collapse. It has become obvious to a few that the government had no alternative but to act.
Both presidential candidates offered unqualified support for the proposal, declaring their fondness for George & Georgie. In a joint statement, issued from the Capitol Rotunda, the contenders for our nation's highest office said, "The option of doing nothing, which would be our normal course of business, is simply not an option in the case of St. Holiday, whose contributions to our national identity, security and prosperity can not be understated. We will stand with him. We congratulate The Feed on its bold wisdom and decisive action to rescue the Escaped Crusader with a generous handout."
It is to be hoped that this bailout will provide a jump start for St. Holiday, who is still reeling from the loss of the Lovely One. This has been his worst crisis since his Great Depression. Rumors have been swirling in the media since she was photographed Sunday in the company of a young, good-looking male by the name of Asher Guillory. The couple made no attempt to hide their affection for each other.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
A senior judicial official, who spoke on condition of non-anonymity ("Hey, man, you have to promise to put my name in your blog before I'll tell you anything."), gave details of the scene inside the closed courtroom. For the record, the official's name is Albert Salazar. (O.K. Albert, are you satisfied?) Infidel! Anyway, during the proceedings, St. Holiday sang an old Glen Campbell song, something about being a lineman for the county, and repeated the phrase, "searching in the sun for another overload" in a stentorian voice, over and over, disregarding every warning from the judge. All the while, the holy man was occupied in a vain attempt to peel a little oval sticker off a plum. When St. Holiday began to yodel the word "overload," the judge ordered the bailiff to gag him. The picture emerging from these events is of a man riven by internal conflicts. May Allah save him!
The judge made it clear that his decision could be reversed if St. Holiday shows any signs of sanity in the future. Hearing this, a gentleman sitting next to the subject of the proceeding, later identified as John Orio, laughed out loud and said, "That will never happen!"
Saturday, September 6, 2008
A major news network reported on condition of anonymity today that it had succeeded in penetrating the heavy security of the White Mountain Institute for the Clinically Addicted (ICA) to secure an exclusive interview with the Inaction Hero, known in some circles as Super Van, strange visitor from the Planet Krapton. His recently-disclosed overuse of performance-enhancing chocolate has drawn the interest of federal investigators, and a grand jury has been convened in Phoenix. His story has completely stolen the media spotlight from the presidential campaign and the mess production of our Bottoms of State. To the surprise of many, St. Holiday has managed to win a marginal fan base, even among some of his own children, who view the national mockingstock as one who has always stood for reform, having tried to reform himself for the past 40 years. OK, maybe 4 years. 4 hours? Once under a media microscope, he is now under a media telescope, because "he is so far out there." One of his own daughters was overheard to say over the phone, "Dad, I have one word for you - get help!" Latest observations appear to back up earlier findings.
The clandestine reporter was able to interview St. Holiday only briefly, speaking with him through a screen in what appeared to be a confessional booth. There he sat, wedged into the strait and narrow on genuine Naugahyde, shut off from all avian interaction, accepting submission to mounting pressures, mumbling a sort of quasi-scripture, such as, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the bills, from whence cometh my stress." The intrepid reporter remarked that St. Holiday appeared "highly sedated and sedately high," though we are informed by other sources that his placebo has not yet begun to kick in, providing the 24-hour relief he needs. The one, who considers Rollos to be miracle pills, is struggling to stay sober and is off to a good stop, as usual, but at least his tantrums are now temperate. He is expected to begin daily rounds of electro-shock therapy on Sunday.
From what could be derived from the short interview, St. Holiday believes that he should be treated as an individual, as opposed to a group or something else in the plural. He said he is planning to retract certain statements he has made over the past 38 years, which may clear up everything. He begged the reporter to help him "return to the shire." There was a certain incoherency in his speech. Long known for his whining tradition, St. Holiday complained that he is a victim of racial profiling and of a hate crime. He said,"They revile against me and vilify me, simply because of the way I talk and act and write and sing." Moreover, he said, "They can't pin that bank heist on me. I'll get off. All they have is circumstantial evidence."
St. Holiday's long-suffering wife has vowed to stand by him, despite the humiliating revelations of his chocolate addiction. "He was swept away by a power that is greater than any of us," she said. "He looks so lost and overwhelmed. How could I leave him now? I'll wait a while longer." Many wonder whether St. Holiday will rally sufficiently to appear in this year's Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. He had previously announced his plans to dress as a root beer float.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
St. Holiday's mother, Gloria Van Sciver, was contacted at her South Jersey residence for a comment. She was busy with her sister, Margie, dipping the last few hundred pounds of chocolates for this season's customers, as she has done for many years. "I don't understand how this could have happened," she said. I warned him about those dark chocolates. If he'd stick with the milk chocolates, he'd be OK. I tell him, no more than a pound a day, like when he was young. He's tall; he can handle it. But will he listen to his mother? No! He never would, not that boy. He's got a mind of his own. Well, now he'll have to pay the price, speaking of which, he better not ask me to pay for his rehab. He got himself into this fix." As she spoke with our source, she began to put together a two-pound box of her mixed milk chocolates with nuts, saying, "I've got to find a way to get this into the rehab facility to him. It will help with the withdrawal."
St. Holiday's latest trouble suggests that he has demons at war with his angel-may-care affability. We can only look upon his willingness to obtain treatment for his chocolate addiction as a positive and courageous act, which will help him move on with his life at last. We will attempt to keep the public informed of his progress as new details are released by the family.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Recently, there has been mounting speculation over St. Holiday's health. It was revealed only a few days ago that he is losing his battle with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and that he had suffered a relapse into a weekend of shallow thought. The pre-Apocalyptic visionary and Pop of Kings has managed to elude commercial success with his recently-released, shocking expose of the widespread popular discontent with material insecurity, and it is thought that this new failure may have been the proverbial straw that led to present events. Or, he may just be hiding from his enraged wife, who is quite protective of her chocolates. Sweet talk, personal charm, clean jokes and reverent wit may only go so far with the Lovely One.
St. Holiday has never been known for merely flirting with disaster. No, he has a way of embracing it like a lover, kissing it full on the lips, taking it home and feeding it like a poor stray. He is the most self-unmade man to be found among anatomically-correct specimens of mankind. Over the past few months, his agent has been engaged in serious discussions with the Acquisitions Department of the Museum of Natural History concerning the eventual donation of St. Holiday's brain for scientific research and public display. Negotiations have reached an impasse over the color of the jar in which it is to be preserved. The donor has insisted upon a tinted jar, preferably in rose or chromium blue, to mask the depressing gray of his whorly organ. If St. Holiday has finally met his fate, as many hope and some few fear, this issue of tissue may be resolved rather soon.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
It probably has not helped his cause that he has long been under surveillance, wanted for questioning, and awaiting amnesty as the most notorious member of Show Low's fashionable underground. How he has eluded the justice system after so many years is a wonderment to all who hate him. Some might think of St. Holiday as just another shot at the buzzer that did not go in, but many recognize that at least the shot bounced around the rim a few times. However, what should we expect from one who grew up during the Great Depression, his own? The few who care for him applaud him as one who is occasionally capable of emotional depth and nuance, who keeps his phaser set on stun, his triglicerides at optimal levels, and his hands from clutching his own throat.
An anonymous source has informed this writer that St. Holiday intends to make a dramatic comeback through a computer-generated replica of himself in high resolution. This is news indeed, since he has never been known to have any resolution at all. We hear that St. Holiday has been working on this project for many years and that he has finally succeeded in constructing a completely-convincing digital doppelganger with realistic facial animation. This he intends to send to assume his new employment as Show Low's grantwriter/housing coordinator, having programmed it for high definition output. Having freed up his time, St. Holiday will download his aging corpus, made of the finest molecules known to man, onto his livingroom couch, where he will devote considerable time to the issue of how to complete the final two things he must accomplish before his own death. It is to be hoped that his digital clone will not fall into the wrong hands.
St. Holiday's name may not be widely known, but the letters of his name, every single one, are known wherever the English alphabet is acknowledged and employed. Therefore, it can be truly stated that much of the world is acquainted with him in a particular manner. Though disappointment and failure are his nightly lullaby, he has at least achieved this measure of global celebrity. One might hope that someday the world will put the pieces together and come to know the entire puzzle which is St. Holiday.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The fundamental principles of the Gospel are faith in Jesus Christ, repentance, baptism for the remission of sins and confirmation for the reception of the Holy Spirit by the laying on of hands. Jesus taught Nicodemus that "Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." (John 3:5). That teaching raises the question, what of that super-majority of the descendants of Adam and Eve who have passed through mortality without an opportunity to receive the ordinances of baptism and confirmation, which Christ taught are a necessary precondition to one being able to enter the kingdom of God? Most who have lived upon the earth have never been acquainted with the doctrines of Christ. How does that square with our notions of the justice of God?
The early Christians believed and taught that Jesus, between the time of His death and resurrection, entered the vast world of spirits and inaugurated a great work of redemption there, preaching the good news to our ancestors and opening the way for their salvation.
The Chief Apostle Peter referred to Christ's work among the dead:
For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit:
By which also he went and preached unto the spirits in prison;
Which sometime were disobedient, when once the longsuffering of God waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was a preparing, wherein few, that is, eight souls were saved by water. (1 Peter 3:18-20)
For for this cause was the gospel preached also to them that are dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit. (1 Peter 4:6)
To quote from the 42nd Ode, "And I made a congregation of living men amongst his dead men, and I spake with them by living lips, because my word shall not be void." What word of Christ would not be void? The promise contained in John 5:25 and elsewhere, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live." This is such an essential and hopeful teaching! Sadly, it has been forgotten or ignored through the ages, leading to many errors in doctrine. The Gospel of Jesus Christ reaches every generation and every nation, if not in mortality then in the realm of spirits. No one of Father's children is denied the blessings of Christ's redemption because of the time and place of their mortal lives. The Lord has and will save all who will adhere to His word, whether in this life or the next.
In a post to come, I will quote from other ancient writers on this important subject.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Tonight is a big night. I am performing another of my scientific experiments in the interest of expanding the knowledge of all mankind. I will be feeding baked beans to my skunks. Wish me luck.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Reached at his footquarters in the newly-renovated Off Center, the saintly one said, "Now, I recognize how wrung I've been." Pressed for further comment, he said, "What do you expect from someone tortured at Gitmo? I don't know nothing. I'm innocent." He declined to elaborate.
The Lovely One was heard to say, "Holiday, you need adult supervision," to which he responded, "You mean like Superman?"
Fans of the cyber-hunk might well wonder what is in store for him. According to his publicist, St. Holiday hopes to exploit the rich mineral deposits in his own backyard. Moreover, he is currently trying to obtain funding from his mortgage company and other creditors for his next mammoth project, the complete and utter construction of a colossal Statue of Slavery to be erected at the mouth of the Delaware River on the soil of the People's Republic of New Jersey. This he intends to donate to the American people in a gesture inspired by the French. What's more, our New Wage Guru (No Wage?) seems to be infected with a sort of joie de livre, as he pours himself into his latest literary venture, an expose to be entitled "Colonoscopy of the American Government, A Deeper Look at Our Political Polyps." His representative asserts that competition among prospective publishers is sure to be hot, and a seven-figure advance can be expected.
Contacted at her infamous retreat in the suburbs of New Jersey in the middle of her bridge match, Gloria Van Sciver, mother of our hero, said, "I'm glad he's finally using his talents in a productive way. I can't take credit for his success." Her last statement raised a general chorus of cackles among participants in the tournament and onlooking family members. One was heard to say, "That's because he hasn't had any success!"
To the blind, St. Holiday is still exhibiting remarkable immunity from the visible signs of aging. This he attributes to secrets he derived from his meticulous studies of Egyptian mummification techniques, in addition to regular topical applications of fruit preservatives in his nightly "jam sessions," as he calls them. Moreover, he is eating lots of fiber to add volume and vigor to his morning routine. While others all around are dying of meat, St. Holiday is beating the medical odds, still disease-free after nearly 3,000 weeks of mortality. His example and innovative spirit are certain to have a salutary effect upon... Well, that remains to be seen.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Rivera winds and pitches, strike one, fast ball, right down the center of the plate. He really challenged St. Holiday with that pitch. 0 and 1 on the batter. Holiday steps out of the box, adjusts his gloves, takes a practice swing, and steps back in, set for the next pitch.
Rivera gets the signal from Posada, nods, checks the runner at third, winds up and delivers .... Strike two! Oh that was a doozy! A slider that caught the outside corner of the plate. Impossible to hit. 0 and 2 on St. Holiday.
And now the Yankee fans are on their feet. Listen to the roar! Only one strike away from another World Series victory. I should have brought ear plugs. Rivera steps off the mound and motions to the crowd to settle down. The place is shaking from the noise. Everyone is standing and screaming. And, look at that! Holiday is laughing! He's laughing! That bespeaks confidence. How can he be laughing in a situation like this, two outs in the ninth, with his team losing 7 to 4, and with him in the hole 0 and 2. Amazing.
Mariano Rivera doesn't like it. He throws the rosin bag to the ground. He sets, takes the sign, shakes it off, takes another, shakes it off, takes a third, nods, goes into the stretch, looks at the runner on third and fires the pitch.
Oh! He brushed him back! Holiday dives to avoid the pitch. That pitch nearly hit him on the side of the head. He got out of the way just in time. Holiday gets up and brushes himself off. He's still smiling. The umpire is going out to the mound to admonish the pitcher before this turns ugly. The Phillies are yelling obscenities from the dugout. Holiday is signaling to them to calm down.
OK, here we go. Order has been restored. Everyone is still standing. There's chanting and cheering from fans of both teams. What a game! Holiday steps into the batter's box, taps the plate three times, and lifts his lumber. Rivera takes his sign from Posada, sets, begins his wind-up ...Wait! Holiday calls time and steps out of the box. What's he doing? He's pointing to center field! He's pointing to the upper deck in center field! O baby! That takes a lot of nerve. Listen to the boos from the Yankee fans. But the Phillie fans are drowning them out! Oh, Jove, help me! This is unbelievable!
Rivera is really upset now. I wouldn't be surprised to see another pitch high and inside after that display from St. Holiday. Here comes the Yankees pitching coach to the mound, no doubt to try to calm the seasoned closer. I can't tell what the coach is saying, but Rivera is nodding. He only needs one more strike. The coach is probably telling him to focus and not let Holiday's antics at the plate distract him from the business at hand.
Alright, Rivera is ready. Holiday is in the box, set for the pitch. Runners will be going. Rivera takes the sign, winds and throws ..
Holiday swings, and Oh, Brother! It's a long drive to deep left center! Look at that baby go, back, back, outa here, home run, grand slam! The Phillies win the Series! The Phillies win the Series! Oh, he smoked that pitch! What a mammoth drive, deep into the upper deck of left center field. Rivera threw a blazing fastball, and St. Holiday got all of it. What a shot! Holy macaroni! An upper decker; one for the books. There is pandemonium in the stands! 8 to 7, Phillies win the series. Un-believable!