Monday, February 25, 2008

In Tampa, Yank Gammonites breaking big scoops from 2007

Want to know what's going on at Girardi Gitmo North? Freeze your head and program the microwave for THAW in February 2010.

Around that time, the writers will be telling us what really happened today.

For now, we're finally learning about the lazy, larded, dour and depressed shamblers that showed up last year, ready take a knee through April and May.

Bobby "Sweet as Candy" Abreu is vowing to delete 2007 from memory (and arbitration hearing records), saying he phoned himself in last spring, sweating through his bags like a White Castle cheeseburger and two orders of Biggie Fries. Not to worry, though. Bobby learned his lesson. He's given up Shamrock Shakes, taken up crunches. This year, he won't hit the wall, (figuratively and -- as we also know -- literally.)

Then there's Johnny Damon -- running mate with Rudy G and stablemate to Sports Girlustrated's butt-slapping-good Stallion. He's ready to play... unlike last year, when the former savior brought love-handles and thoughts of retirement to work.

Let's not forget Jason Giambi, who has reported “reportedly” in great shape. Guess the key word there. If you said "reportedly," you win. Giambi will reportedly play first base. In Guatamala, the New England Patriots are reportedly 19-0.

Finally, the Gray Lady, having published its 10-year-old thumbsucker on John McCain's lost lust for a lady lobbiest, reports that young Joba Chamberlain is more fun than a barrel of Mussinas, bringing 99-mile-an-hour mirth “to enliven what for years had been one of baseball’s most dour clubhouses.”

Huh? Dour? Wait a minute. Wasn't Joe Torre warm and fuzzy? Didn't Donnie Baseball regularly pass out the onion gum and fool Zim with the black-eye binoculars? Dour?

Now they tell us? We could have signed Carrot Top.

Yeesh. This is like reading 2003 coverage of the war. We go in looking for WMD. A year later, we learn it was all about HGH.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Yeah. This locker room sounds anything but dour. Dour is certainly not the first word I think of:

"(Joba) walks among the lockers bare-chested, displaying his big tattoos and his little gold nipple rings. One morning he strode past 37-year-old Jason Giambi. Without breaking stride, Chamberlain reached out from behind and ran his fingers through Giambi’s long hair while Giambi was conversing with reporters."

2008 Yankees: We're here! We're not dour! Get used to it!