Jeff Brantley Catches Thief "Reds" Handed

While feasting on a full rack of dripping pork ribs and a basket of ketchup-soaked french fries during a recent June evening baseball broadcast, 45-year old Cincinnati Reds announcer Jeff "The Cowboy" Brantley suddenly feasted eagle eyes on Brandon Phillips, who was chomping on some pretzels at second base. The former Reds closer, cheeks specked with an unidentified-but-zesty-looking condiment dip, shouted, "Aha, I Gotcha!" from the Great American Ballpark radio booth so loudly, that 63% of the Reds radio audience tuning into 700 WLW temporarily went deaf.

The short-sleeve dresshirted Brantley, known for his love of eating food of virtually any variety so long as it's covered in something with the consistency of gravy or Montgomery Inn BBQ sauce, or literally doused with a mixture of the two, made haste from the booth to confront Phillips, who he believed to be playing a prank by stealing his pretzels.

Booth mate Marty Brennaman reported that Brantley was overheard yelling. "They think it's so damn funny when they take my snacks! I'll show 'em funny!" he shouted, with the belly of his shirt stained by some rogue grape jelly that had abandoned its English muffin while he was dining at Denny's that morning.

In the end, Phillips was left unassailed and safely remained in the game due to the half-dozen vendors that distracted The Cowboy on his way to the field. Brantley, having eaten every variety of Skyline chili, LaRosa's pizza, frosty malt and fried bologna sandwich, between the booth and the field, only to top it all off with a jumbo sized cotton candy and bucket of popcorn, was ultimately too content to care about his burgled pretzels.

Having returned to the booth where Brennaman wasn't sure if it was blood or BBQ inhabiting the corners of Brantley's mouth, the Cowboy sighed under his breath, "There's 162 games in the season and I'll have my day. Mr. Phillips, I'll see you in hell; though more likely I'll see you at the Montgomery Inn Boathouse."

Then inexplicably, The Cowboy murmured the word "smokin'," and fell sound asleep, his hand reaching for Marty's brattwurst with spicy mustard.

"One for Dinner, One for Midnight"

Living in Atlanta, I have the displeasure of listening to the Braves radio guys on 96.1. They're the kind of guys, I think one of them is Don Sutton, right, who are so boring that I want to go and by some Nike sneakers and join Heaven's Gate. Here's an example of some painful commentary from Sunday's Reds/Braves game: "you know, too often, when we talk about catchers who are good at throwing out baserunners, we forget to talk about their footwork..." To paraphrase a favorite one-liner from Conway Bangs - open arse, insert chainsaw.

The Braves radio guys are like George Grande, if George Grande cloned himself and both he and his clone worked the same booth. That's how mindless they are.

Did I mention it was Sunday? It must have been because one of them led off the game by saying, "Now that you've have a nice time at church, you can enjoy some Atlanta Braves baseball." That's a bit presumptive, isn't it? Actually, I had a nice time at my soccer game, albeit torturous playing with 9 guys versus 11, but thank you very much, Mr. Sutton or cohort that reminds me of George Grande.

Now, simultaneously, here's some color commentary from The Cowboy Jeff Brantley and Thom Brennaman from the Reds side of the radio booth:

Cowboy and Thom Brennaman:

Q (Thom): Would you run in the Reds 5K?

A (Cowboy): No chance.

Q: Would you walk in the Reds 5K?

A: No chance. I might sit on the side and eat ribs . . . maybe give water.

Q: How many racks of ribs? One?

A: No. No. Two. Always two. One for dinner, one for midnight.

Who would you rather enjoy some baseball with?