Burp.
What a load a crap last night, the pre-game show. Some Fox dooface was blathering about the Home Run Derby - the most exciting Home Run Derby in Home Run Derby history! - as if matters to anybody who isn't floating on the MLB payroll. And everywhere you turned, there was Pete Rose, in his white golfing loafers, looking like he still wants to fight Bud Harrelson. They should have given him a tiara and flower arrangement. I half-expected to see the Bud Selig lizard alien clone address Earth from his moon base on Pluto.
Burp. Unexplained noise.
Joe Buck never announces harder than in trash game situations. He overcompensates for the fact that nobody cares what is happening - least of all the players - and he's terrified that everybody will switch to John Sterling's Kitten Bowl on some gooey Hallmark reality network.
Burp.
So begins my annual, four-days of drinking - the summer meetings - which include a nasty contingent of Redsock fans. I will go undercover and learn Boston's secrets, and then expose them for the villains that they are. How do the fratbros really feel about Papi? What would they like to see done with Napoli? Who is the real "Dusty" Pedroia? Stay tuned. Burp.
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1 comment:
Please remember to drink three (3) Yankee souvenir cups of water before retiring to bed/floor during these meetings.
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