Scientists have measured the duration of a homerun clearing the fence as precisely equal to that of the human orgasm.
Last night, the Yankees gave John Sterling four signature comings. A Text Message, an A-Bomb, Muscle from Russell and a chorus of Grandy Man. He shouted high, he shouted far, he shouted gan. He came, he sang, he conquered.
The homeruns constituted nearly all our scoring. We have become a team virtually incapable of moving baserunners, a lineup of .250 hitters, an order of Ben Oglives and King Kong Kingmans -- a team destined for third in the AL East, unless something changes.
Are John Sterling's celebrations the symptom -- or the cause?
Does Chris Dickerson, called up from Scranton, think: "If I hit one out, I'll be immortalized by the Master!" If so, John hurting the Yankees.
John doesn't want to hurt the Yankees.
Let's be clear. John doesn't want to hurt the Yankees.
Thus, John should start mini signature moments, just as loud and jubilant, but for lesser game moments. Some examples.
"IT'S AN A-BUNT, FROM A-ROD. ALEXANDER THE GREAT SACRIFICES AGAIN."
"YOU JUST GOT A B-PLUS PASSING MARK, TEIXEIRA!"
"IT'S A CHEAPIE, FROM ROBBIE."
"NICK SWISHER... HE'S SINGLELICIOUS."
"HE BEATS IT OUT... RUSSELL SHOWS HUSTLE."
"DEREK JETER... EL SLAPPY-TAN!"
"GEORGIE JIGGLES ONE."
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