As we end 2016 realizing that the once mighty Yankees have become nothing more than a feeder team to the small-market Pirates, one happy morsel we can savor this holiday season is knowing that Curt Schilling is a millstone around the neck of the hated Blosox, not us.
This article reports that the ever-entertaining Schilling is realizing his Hall of Fame chances are dwindling. Instead of taking it with a modicum of dignity and grace, he's lashing out at writers and suspected PED users.
Good plan.
It must be hell knowing that your ketchup-doctored sock is in the Hall of Fame but your big, dumb, loutish self isn't.
In reflecting on our team during this less-than-joyous Yankee off-season, I'd still rather have a solid rotation and a new third baseman under our tree, but I'll take this little Christmas Card from Curt and sip it with some spiked egg nog.
Life isn't all bad.
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