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The Cold Filtered Ramblings of Gene Mueller

Feeling Sarah Lucroy's pain

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You always hurt the one you love.

And, if that someone is the hottest hitter on a struggling Major League Baseball team, and if that hurt lands him on the DL for six weeks, the results are predictable in this everyone-has-a-keyboard-and-opinion digital age.

Brewers catcher Jonathan Lucroy is out until the All-Star break after busting his hand in a freak hotel room luggage incident involving his wife, Sarah.   Lucroy tells one of Milwaukee's sports stations that she's been getting a ton of grief about it on the internet, and is asking fans to please back off.   It's probably one of the reasons Lucroy wouldn't go into details about it in an earlier interview with the Journal/Sentinel's Tom Haudricourt.    Lucroy was nobly shifting the focus away from his wife and onto his frustration with having an All-Star campaign short-circuited by something so freaky.

Haudricourt's fellow scribe, Michael Hunt, has a great take on the gutless mouth-breathers (my words, not his) who are taking after Mrs. Lucroy on the web.   Simply put, she didn't set out to bust her husband's hand.   Accidents happen, even between spouses.   Trust me, I know.   I've put several unintentional hurts on my beloved wife in the course of 29 years.

The most recent one came last summer, as we were working in the backyard.    I was moving decorative railroad ties (if there is such a thing) at her behest.   After piling a few up in one spot, she asked me to move them to another.   As I flung one off the heap, she came up behind me and--POW!--the flying tie smacked her in the lower leg.   It didn't break (the tie or the leg) but she was cut and badly bruised.   It hobbled her most of the summer.   I felt like absolute crap, even though it was an accident.

There was another time when we headed north to visit friends at their cabin many summers ago.   We had just arrived and were unloading our suitcases as our hosts greeted us in the driveway.   Distracted by the pleasantries, I assumed everything was out of the truck and proceeded to slam the hatch shut when my wife ducked back into the rear of the SUV to snatch one more thing.  POW!  I'm surprised she remained conscious, much less non-concussed.    I guess that's another reason I side with the Lucroys in their version of events--I know stupid luggage incidents can happen.

Unlike Mrs. Lucroy, though, my wife isn't the spouse of a high-profile athlete.    My stories get told on a seldom-read blog or at parties with friends.   Her mishap ends up in the sports pages and thus, becomes fodder for the gutless who happen to have WiFi and a keyboard.   The results are sadly predictable in this digital age.

In a star-crossed season, things like the Wayward Samsonite affair happen.   Freak accidents happen on the field, and also in restaurants, kitchens, bars, and in backyards.    People do things.   Life is random.   A Brewers team seldom bit by the injury bug has now been swallowed by the Jonah's whale of misfortune.   It's happening to other teams, too, so no one is going to he holding any bake sales for Milwaukee.

Curse the fates.  Shake your fists at the baseball gods.   But leave Mrs. Lucroy alone.

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