It's possible that Andrew Brackman, the former Yankee top draft pick, may never throw a ball in the Bronx. He cannot control his fastball any more than an Emperor Penguin can perform Lady Gaga music with the emotional intensity that it deserves.
Brackman stands 6 foot 10 inches tall, and that is nearly 7 feet of batshit, 94-mph whodafuk knows where the ball's gonna go. He scares batters. He scares Yankee fans. He probably scares his mom.
Check out this line from last night, and let's appreciate genius: Watching Bragman come into a game -- even his warm up pitches hit the backstop -- must be the worst sight in baseball for the poor Triple A slobs who must stand in and face potential knee-cappings and beheadings.
Last night, the Brack hurled two innings. He got hit. He also hit back. He struck out five batters, walked one and plunked one -- in other words, a typical Brackman outing. He threw 41 pitches, 25 for strikes. Yikes.
I say this: Cup of Coffee in October. Bring him in to face the Redsocks. Let him do his thing. Coupled with the guy who throws from both sides of the mound, we could at least enjoy some of the entertaining late inning blowouts in history.
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2 comments:
excellent idea. Brackman will cause Big Papi to have a Big Poopie.
Is Youk's head a big enough target for him? Is his control good enough to handle that? Helmet area only, don't want to kill the guy, just get him pissed off so he glares, jumps around, turns even redder.
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