Reports out of Boston, the world's sports capital, say the Redsock '17 Hall of Fame Superteam of Destiny (TM) might decide to acquire a Clay Buchholtz-clone, similar to the original Clay Buchholtz model that it recently dealt to Phily for a bucket of fried chicken.
You might think I'm making this up, or that - worse - you're one of those half-sentient robots in Westworld who relive the same day a thousand times, (and it's time to get nasty,) because this sounds even too daft for your core processor. Nope. It's true. ESPN's Buster Olney says so.
Olney says the Great Men who have assembled the '17 Hall of Fame Superteam of Destiny (TM) are looking for "a -like pitcher in trade talks, if not necessarily re-acquiring Buchholz himself."
This is because Eduardo Rodriguez - the Bostonian version of Michael Pineda - tweaked a carbunkle last month, and suddenly the Brain Trust is concerned that it's sixth, seventh and/or eighth starters - I think the names are Maddux, Glavine and Smoltz - won't be able to take their vacations in August, when the team is 20 games ahead. Thus, the Brain Trust might trade back for The Buchholtz, or a Buchholtzesque copy of Buchholtz, and - natch - give up less for him than they received in the first trade, right? That's how things go in Boston.
Listen: There are years when everything t;urns to shit for the Yankees, and 2017 could be a humdinger. But cheer up, everybody: We will still have ringside seats to the continuing ruination of the Redsocks, who always seem to rot from the same disease that takes us down: Hubris. Whenever Boston assembles a Hall of Fame Superteam of Destiny, the juju gods laugh.
When you look at the Redsock lineup right now, it's hard to imagine Boston NOT winning the AL East. But it looks as though they'll pass on Jose Bautista and hope that Sandy Leon hits .300 again, and that Jackie Bradley Jr.'s second-half isn't the new norm. They're stocked, for sure. But now and then, while gazing at the beauty queen, you notice a pimple on her forehead that you hadn't seen before, and suddenly, you can't take your eyes off of it. Today, that pimple is named Clay Buchholtz, or the lack thereof.
(PS. Sorry if you couldn't access a bunch of videos, which I posted last week, to appear over the holiday, so I could drink through the end of 2016. That's what I get for trying to outsmart the world. It won't happen again.)