As a kid growing up I remember one Christmas all I wanted was a set of Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots. I would be glued to the television watching the commercials where two neighborhood children would settle their differences the way everything always gets settled but allowing two robots to try and knock each other’s block off.
I sat on Santa’s lap and promised that I had been good and that whatever Linda Hansen had told him was a blatant lie and that cat didn’t have any fur well before I got there. I wrote letters and I even pretended I enjoyed it when Aunt Jane gave me a hug and a kiss. I wasn’t taking any chances; I really wanted those fighting robots.
My parents and Santa had other ideas. They thought perhaps Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots was just a little too violent for a small boy who already beat on his little brother (which he totally deserved for destroying my Nolan Ryan rookie baseball card putting it in the spokes of his bike). Instead I got Major Matt Mason and took out my aggressions by continuing to beat on my brother.
Through the years I never forgot about those Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots. I would dream of the day that I would take control of the red robot and dance gracefully around the ring measuring my opponent then at the perfect moment I’d press the button and WHAM! I’d knock his block off!
Little did I know that I would end up getting something better. I would get tickets to see the Los Angeles Dodgers play the Arizona Diamondbacks in a three-game series at Chase Field less than a month after a skirmish at Dodger Stadium. I would be ringside as the evil Zach Greinke and his blue robot would take the mound. I had envisioned Randall Delgado gracefully moving left and right taunting the blue robot to wildly swing opening himself up then WHAM! Knock his block off!
There’s only one problem that I can see. Bud Selig is a lot like my parents. I’m sure he’s already warned the necessary parties that if there are any blocks knocked off they are going to be grounded and he will give their younger brothers their prized baseball cards to make noise in their spokes with no possible way to retaliate.
One of these days I am going to tell my little brother and Bud Selig that they were both adopted and left on our steps by a crazed zoo keeper that plans on releasing a tiger from the zoo who will chew off their thumbs so they can’t hold onto things. Man, I really wanted those fighting robots.