They're the Trade Sirens, singing their sweet melodies, seeking to lull us into giving up Mark Melancon for Dopey Dildox.
It's that time of year, MLB's annual raiding of the Yankee schooner ship.
You see it happen in slow motion. At first, we resist. Then the music drives us mad. We leap into the water and swim to them, then lug Rick Rhoden back to the boat.
We can't go on a road trip without every city's sportswriters quickly ginning up a rumor -- How about that Zambrano! He's been pitching well lately! -- and sometimes our own writers drink the house wine.
This year, no. No, God... no, no, NO.
Right now, Brian Cashman is leading candidate for the 2011 Boxcar Willie MLB Freegan Dumpster Diving Award - he's master of recycling - unless he bites on some overpriced fleabag like Carlos Zambrano. The beauty of signing nobodies is you're not suck with them. But Zambrano comes with a huge ball and chain: He'll need four or five starts before magically turning back that clock. Every time. "He's one start away from getting it back together..."
Thus, next month, when the Latino markets explode with 15-year-olds who have balls the size of Mars and Venus, we'll be factoring in Zambrano's contract, so the Cubs can bid up the price of Dominican beef.
No, no, no. Stay the course. Our bullpen is better this year because we used nobodies. Yeah, we need a LOOGY. But please, God, spare us Zambrano.
PUT WAX IN YOUR EARS, EVERYBODY. DON'T LISTEN TO THEM.
The Cubs see us coming. They're praying for a quality start from Zambrano, just to deal him.What does that tell you? LALALALAA, I CAN'T HEAR A THING.
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