Ted Williams' head is spinning in its freezer.

The only reason baseball was invented was to give people an excuse to drink beer and eat hot dogs in the sun on weekday afternoons, so I generally don’t watch it on television in October, since every one of those elements is missing. However, I’ve been seeing replays on SportsCenter and am troubled by one particularly odd thing. When celebrating in the locker room after a win, before dumping champagne all over each other, the winners of the playoff games stop and take the time to put on swim goggles.

You heard me. They’re completely exuberant from advancing in a playoff game. It’s the best day of their lives. They’ve worked all season for this very moment. It’s what they dreamt about as children in Little League. And then, just as their whole life culminates into an apex of glory…they pause. “Oh, just wait a sec here guys while I slip on my swim goggles. OK. THAT’S BETTER. Hit me with your bubbly! Wheeee! We won! We are the champions, my friend!”

This is very likely the weeniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

I asked my pal in Boston about it, figuring as a loyal Red Sox fan he’d have some insight. Maybe the team was sponsored by Speedo or something, and they had to do it for product placement. His response? “Aww, c’mon! Champagne is carbonated alcohol! That would burn!” What a homer. Then why don’t they take the time to put on nose plugs and elbow pads, in case they slip on the wet locker room floor? Wouldn’t want to take a nasty hit to the funny bone when there’s baseball to be played!

Sure, I was raised an an era of no helmets, no seatbelts, no sunscreen. But when I was a kid, our Olympic Champion (who won seven medals, btw, one less than that other guy) was a fella named Mark Spitz. He had no form fitting space-age suit, and he had NO GOGGLES. Hell, he even had chest hair and a moustache. Did it slow him down? No sir. Did he worry about a silly little thing like chemicals from third-world pools getting in his eyes? No. No, he did not. He was going too damned fast. But overweight, Copenhagen-slurping baseball players are concerned with sparkling wine? I’m no sommelier, but is flying champagne really so effin’ toxic? If it’s that painful, here’s an idea - DON’T SPRAY IT ALL OVER THE DAMNED PLACE. I’m sure the janitorial staff will thank you, and you won't have to endanger your vision and shit.