Cody Eppley. You see it unraveling. We start with Freddy G (sort of like Kenny G, except he walks more batters), who pitches the first threes, more or less. By the fourth, we’re a grand slam away from being in the game. Then it’s David Phelps – Phelpsy – for two. By then, hopefully, Cano has hit three HRs, leaving us to draft the opposition like a racehorse in the stretch. Soon, it's Cody Eppley Time.
Cody Eppley. Suzyn loves him. She can’t understand how Texas could have waived him. He’s young, he’s big, he’s athletic, he throws hard, he has a live arm, he shows command, he brings the cheese, he has the heat, Texas must be the greatest team in history, which explains why they tossed Cody Eppley into the bottlecap drawer. Of course, he was THE last guy released — they cried, they raged against the fates, they wriggled, knowing they’d made a huge Jesus-for-Pineda mistake — and they would never release him if they know what he is now: Cody Effing Eppley.
Cody Eppley. He gets us to Corey, who gets us to Clay, who gets us to Boone, who gets us to (Your Name Here), who gets us to Rafael Soriano, which is sort of like getting us to Utica from Binghamton, by way of Cortland.
Cody Eppcuse me. I have the hiccups: CODYEPPLEY! Sorry about that. I don't know what's gotten into CODYEPPLEYme. Goodness. I shouldn’t have eaten that plate of win-CODYEPPLEYngs. There. I feel better. I have posted my CodyCODYEPPLEYEppley post.
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