How do you justify letting an all-star relief pitcher, perhaps the heir-apparent to the greatest closer in history, dangerously risk muling a heavy recycling bin to a treacherous Florida street curb? That's the question the Yankee braintrust needs to answer today. Because that's how David Robertson hurt his foot, slipping on one of those greasy curbs that dot the Grapefruit landscape. He might be out for a while.
In fact, how do you even justify forcing Robertson, a millionaire - albeit a good-hearted citizen, environmentally - to recycle? Throw the shit away, David! Drop in the waste can, and hire somebody to come to your house and get rid of it. Better yet, burn it in a backyard barrel, or get one of those old tractor tire rims - don't try to lift the rim - and set in on the front lawn, squirt some lighter on it, and poof - end of problem. Hell, as far as I'm concerned, just drive around Tampa and throw it out the window. Dammit. How did you get hurt trying to recycle? We may have lost our setup man for the eighth inning, and for what? So Al Gore can feel better about himself? Maybe the Republicans are right. There have been times against Boston why I have found myself chanting, "Drill, CC baby, drill."
We had better not lose anybody while trying to install those newfangled light bulbs.
Taking out the recycling is a wife's job. Can't expect a man who comes home exhausted after pitching a full inning against major league hitters to do it.
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