Before the bathrobe, he wore PJ’s, before the bubble pipe he had the classic bubble ring toy, before the internet… he had to read newspapers:
Craig’s finger moved down the box scores on the paper until he found what he wanted. He sat up and immediately started pulling his hair! Another Loss! Six in a row! Twenty-Five and a half games back (not sure what that half meant), oh will he ever see the Braves stop sucking in his (admittedly short so far) lifetime? Craig adjusted his Batman PJs as he sat crossed legged to ponder this problem. As he usually did he took out his bubble bottle, pulling the plastic ring and absentmindedly blowing a few. Maybe Phil Niekro can pitch all the rest of the Braves’s games? But they still have hitting problems… and fielding problems…and-
“CRAIG! Are you dressed yet! We’re late for your soccer practice!” a voice boomed from afar.
Craig pouted. “But MOOOOOOOM!”
“Don’t ‘but Mom’ me, get out of that basement and get dressed this instance!”
Craig turned to his homegrown paper-mache bobblehead of Hank Aaron. “Hank we need your help. Come back to the team!” he implored.