Since March, I've been following a goofy little blog — sorry, "bolg" — called "Zoo With Roy," one of the most refreshingly absurd things the internet has spit out in quite some time. Last night was special for him, obviously.
So I asked the mastermind, whose sole purpose this season and in life is to "go to the zoo with Roy Halladay," to sum up his feelings about Roy's big night. Just because. So please humor us.
Earlier this month I referenced À l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleurs in a written piece comparing Philadelphia Phillies players to Muppet Babies, all for a bolg the concept of which revolves around my desire to go to the zoo with Roy Halladay. And while we pause for a beat as the Deadspin donkey patrol Googles Proust, I'd like to acknowledge the sublime absurdity of the concept I just laid forth. I'm a grown, fairly educated man with a family, a house, an SUV and a white collar job. I have an MBA. So why am I spending my time writing (and illustrating, gracefully) a web page about eating cotton candy with Roy Halladay while we admire hippos and red pandas?
After last night, I no longer need justification. There is no such thing as perfection in this life, but perhaps one of sport's greatest merits is that it allows us moments to believe in its attainability.
Also Deadspin please mention thefightins.com. It's a quasi-popular Phillies blog that has been very good to ZWR.