Wednesday, April 16, 2014

From the Book of Job: The story of Cervelli, the most tortured servant of King Hal

Hear now the story of Francisco Cervilli, son of Munson, backup to Jorge, and servant in the House of Steinbrenner, who hath suffered more than any Yankee in the history of history.

For he hath squatted behind the plate of Yankee farms and fields, a worshipper of King Hal, son of George and partner of Rupert. And Francisco hath spent many years toiling in the trenches of Trenton, and the scrapyards of Scranton. Yet his future appeared fertile and ripe for a deal of multi-years, until one day Satan said unto God:

"O, Lord of Yankees, I see that your loyal servant Cervelli praises you each day, because you have given him hits and health. But what would happen if he were to suffer pain in the training of springs? Would his nose taketh on a different color than brown? Instead of worshipping your network of YES, would he not crouch and pray to the channels of NO?"

And God replieth:

"Get out, Satan, with thy socks of red! Thou art worse than New Hampshire shucking lost shillings upon Schilling! But I shall showeth you that my servant Francisco loveth the Yankees more than any creature alive. I shall send unto him a plague of plagues. And ye shall see that he still worshipeth the Yankee network, driven by Jeep, and protected by Cellino and Barnes."

And so in 2008, Francisco was tending the plate of home, when a barbarian from the Hooters ovens of Tampa crashed upon him, cracking his wrist. And Francisco cried out, "O Yankee God, thou hath forsaken me! But I shalt not slacken in my love for thee."

And so the Lord sent his avenger, Shelley Duncan, to claw a Tampa shortstop in his hood of man, launching a clearing of bench and spittle. And for a year, Francisco healed and then played.

But the following spring, Satan returned and sayeth: "Hey, what about our bet on your servant Francisco? Isn't it time to whacketh his mole again?"

And in a game of spring, God sent a ball of bean to Francisco's noggin, and he suffereth mighty aches and grains of mi. But Francisco still sayeth: "O, Yankee God, I shalt not slacken in my love for thee!"

And the following spring, God breaketh Francisco's foot, and he limp for months. But still he sayeth: "O, Yankee God, though this is getting staleth, I shalt not slacken in my love for thee!"

And the following spring, on the day before spring training endeth, as Francisco was packing his camel for the New city of York, God tradeth for Chris Stewart, son of Molina. And Francisco was banished to Scranton, which had itself been exiled unto a caravan on the New state of York's Thruway. And lo, Frankie sayeth: "O Yankee God, this truly sucketh, and it would not bothereth me if thou were to trade me, because how many Thruway Sbaro's can a loyal servant eat in? But I shalt not slacken in my love for thee!"

And the following spring, Francisco returneth and was named starting catcher in the House of Steinbrenner. And so God breaketh his hand on a tip of foul. And before Francisco could returneth and express his love for the Yankees, he was exiled by Commissioner Bud, son of Bowie, for fifty games, for he hath associated with A-Rod, cousin of Barry, and friend to Biogenisis. And nobody mentioneth Francisco for the rest of the season of ball.

And the following spring - the time of now - when Francisco finally returneth, he hath won the backup role in a great season of grapefruit. Yet Satan sayeth to God, "Hey, whateth about our bet? Send unto Francisco the pinch of hamstring." And God said, "Yeah, OK, why not?"

And so Frankie suffereth a brutal pull on his string of ham. And now, he shalt again miss months upon months of crouching behind plate.

And the Yankee God was asked, "Why, O Lord, hath thou forsaken your loyal servant? What hath Francisco - and King Hal himself - done to deserve such torture?"

And God sayeth:

"Hey, tis the game of ball. You guys tradeth my son Jesus Montero, and this is what you getteth."

So continues the Book of Cervelli.


Local Bargain Jerk said...

The great Orator Duque, doth writeth: "Get out, Satan, with thy socks of red! Thou art worse than New Hampshire shucking lost shillings upon Schilling!

Ahh, as a lowly vassal toiling on the Island of Rhode, I am compelled to pointeth out to the Great Orator that 'twas not the New state of Hampshire that lardeth the purse of Schilling, but rather my own sorry state of Rhode Island. Let the record show that 'twas indeed the fool-born governors of our small land that slippethed betwixt the sheets with the bloody-socked maggot-pie Schilling and engorged his wallet with our tax monies.

JM said...

Yea, verily, Frankie has felt the power of God's smoting.

Sayeth the Lord, "Eh, what the hell. Never really like the guy. He's no Jake Gibbs."

Parson Tom said...

"bloody-socked maggot-pie Schilling"


However ....
In today's NYT, Pineda gives much credit for his recovery from shoulder surgery -- at least for his belief during rehab that he could recover from shoulder surgery -- to an article ol' maggot-pie Schilling wrote about his own shoulder surgery in 1995 and his prediction that Pineda would recover and pitch effectively again.

Pineda needs to get right with the Yankee God, who will brook no kind words for that blowhard swindler.

bennyboy said...