Masahiro Tanaka is coming! Quick, everybody, bag those bottles, and hide the bong! (Wait a minute: Just thought of something: If Masahiro likes his happy herb, so to speak, we have no chance in bidding for him against Seattle.) (Wait No. 2: Did the Jogger go to Washington because Robbie has a thing for the weedier pleasures?) We gotta look good!
Jeeze, De Blasio, plow the roads! Damn, Christie, open the bridges! Who the hell shut down Spider-Man? This guy won't sit through Waiting for Godot. Can we get him into one of those Billy Joel monstrosities at MSG? What? They're sold-out? Jeesh, is everybody in NYC over 55? Do we have to take this guy to a Knicks game! Boeheim, get your ass down there and beat Duke, or something! Can you maybe play Dennis Rodman's all-stars?
Aw, hell, it doesn't matter. Any minute now, Fred Horowitz - the most powerful man in the world - will rule on A-Rod's MLB ban. Whatever Fred says, it's going to cause a volcanic burst of bad publicity for Hal 9000 and the Evil (Retrieval) Empire.
Of course, there's a slim chance that Breakfast-in-Bed Fred will side with A-Rod, and scuttle Bud Selig's dream team of investigators, with their tote bags of money. Thus, the Yankees could publicly welcome back A-Rod and play kissy-face. But Alex will probably miss a big chunk of 2014, if not all of it, and he's already in a spitting contest with Randy Levine, the Yankees designated fright wig, and even the team physician, Dr. Hippa No-Tell. Soon, A-Rod's lawyers will start firing away, and unless Alex is written into our lineup, the Yankees will be high on the target list.
Great, just great. So Tanaka arrives in New York City to be wined and dined, courted and sparked, and while he's having his toes sucked by Louise Meanwell's cousin from Bayside, he's watching an overhead TV, where A-Rod is telling Charlie Rose what bastards the Yankees are, and how Brian Cashman was stealing underwear from the team's Booty Box. Great. Just great.
If you were being recruited by, say, the Death Jell Pharmaceutical Company of North Korea, while you were touring the mass graves with Supreme Leader Little Kim, how would you like to hear about his beloved uncle was recently set upon by a pack of 120 wild dogs? Would it make you want to sign up?
A-Rod's lawyers could try to make him into our version of Kim's uncle.
Listen: No Billy Joel front row tickets can overcome that. We'll be just sharing a drink that's called loneliness, 'cause it's better than drinking alone.
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