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There will be times when the answers to your questions seem to be non-existent. There will be times when the validity of these questions are called into question. Just remember, when the answer seems non-existent, the answer to all your questions is money.
Guy Grand, eccentric billionaire, man of power and ingenuity. Guy Grand, the troll who walks among the .1%. Below are the chronicles of Guy Grand’s 21st century adventures into professional sports.
A man with money is nothing if he is unwilling to spend and spend and spend. Guy Grand is certainly not nothing. No, indeed he is something. Behold dear reader, the story of a man who challenged the religious adherence to dogmatic rules of fair play and sportsmanship. A man so courageous in his willingness to flush money down the toilet that he once spent 200 million dollars to influence a touchdown celebration. A man who overloaded gambling odds to create value for the average gambler. A saint among men. A man among pigs. Behold dear reader, the story of Grand Guy Grand.
You may be wondering, what nonsense is this that I am reading. Who could ever care about a fictitious billionaire who acts like a buffon and flaunts his wealth when so many go without food, shelter and clothing. Well, if the concerns of under nourishment, homelessness and appropriate outerwear are the concerns you hold dear to your heart, this is not a story for you. No, this is a story for those who want to laugh. A story for those who want to point a finger at the silly rich man and say, “Look at that bloke just having a laugh! He sure seems like a grand guy!”
During the late summer of 2001 Guy Grand was recovering from a heart procedure and bedridden for the month of August. Inside his private hospital room, where he received the best care that money could buy, he would lay in bed all day watching tv. When one day he could not find his remote to change the channel he was forced to watch the Little League World Series. At first he found the programming to be loathsome and underproduced, but as the game continued he was pulled in by the players' nicknames, their favourite foods and what subjects they liked in school. When the game was finished and Taiwan had beaten South Korea, Guy Grand cheered and yelled from his hospital bed.
For the remainder of the competition Guy rooted for the Taiwanese team. Each day brought a new high as their pitchers firepower increased and their bats were booming. Yu-Ting, an eleven year old boy who loved pikachu and kimchi, was Guy’s favourite player. He loved the theatrical way in which Yu-Ting would chuck his bat into the air after every hit, whether it be a bloop single or a towering homerun.
On August 25th, the last day of Guy’s hospital stay, the Taiwnese Little League Team took on Alaska, who was representing the United States in the finals. The game was moving along and each team was pressuring, but neither side was able to break the deadlock. In the top half of the sixth and final inning, Alaskan slugger Aput Kootoo crushed a hanging curveball over the outfield fence to give Alaska a 1-0 lead.
When the bottom of the sixth came around, and the score was still 1-0 for Alaska, Guy was sweating in his hospital bed, his newly repaired heart pounding like a jackhammer. The first batter popped out to the third basemen. The second batter rolled over on a breaking ball to ground into an easy out.
Guy chewed his nails and clenched his jaw. This was it, the final out, and who was at bat? None other than Yu-Ting!
“Go get ‘em Ting!” Guy screamed from his hospital bed, spraying spit across the sheets. “You got this you little bastard! Make Guy proud!”
“Strike one!” A perfect pitch on the outside corner. Guy starts to rock back and forth in bed.
“Strike two!” Another perfect pitch in the same location.
Guy watched on as Yu-Ting stepped out of the batter's box, tapped his cleats with his bat, touched his helmet, adjusted his batting gloves and stepped back into the box.
“Strike three!"
“Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!! No no no no no no no. Nooooo!!!!!!” Big, fat crocodile tears streamed down Guy and Yu-Ting’s faces. Yu-Ting walked backed to the bench where his team mates consoled him, wrapping their arms around him for a group hug.
Guy on the other hand fell out of bed screeching like a wet cat. He banged his fists on the ground and produced blood curdling wails that would later be described by one hospital attendant as, “The sound a mother makes when she watches her child die.”
What transpired in Guy’s hospital room during the month of August in the year 2001 would be the catalyst for a new art form. A fine art form. An art form for the 21st century.
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