Yaz was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Snowshine signed it. And Snowshine’s name was good upon ‘Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to.


Old Yaz was as dead as a door-nail.


Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Yaz was as dead as a door-nail.


It is still Christmas in July!


The rest of the game was every bit as eventful, as Shearlucks managed to only give up 3 solo shots and the “B” bullpen team was acceptably bad but never broke. Somehow the Natspo’s starter gave up one hard flyball after another only to finally get burned by Ronald and Yaz and his bullpen. It looks like snow tonight.