Monday, May 07, 2007

I'm Not Gonna Do What You All Think I'm Gonna Do...

So, I assume ol' Georgie-Boy took a page from John Henry's book and re-signed Clemens for all "the fans of [the Tri-State area] who love the game and adored him even when he wore a [Red Sox] uniform"?

I know that at least two out of the three of you who read this blog with some frequency are probably waiting for me to drop an atomic bomb on Clemens, Steinbrenner, the Yankees and the Hendricks brothers. Well it's not going to happen. The fact of the matter is that I just can't get that worked up about it. Does adding an almost 45-year-old, five-to-six inning pitcher to a 14-15 ballclub really merit my frothing at the mouth? I don't think so. I'll leave the analysis and breakdown of the NL to AL transition, pitch count averages and ERA to those more qualified to, or interested in, doing it. It's not my area, nor my care.

The last time we faced Roger was on October 16, 2003 and frankly, I doubt he's gotten any better since then. The last thing I wanted was a situation where I had to root against our starting pitcher while rooting for our favorite team. I was dreaming about how many ways we could find to go scoreless through six then come back to win games in the later innings. And now I don't have to worry about such predicaments. And my summer will be better for it.

Making a 44-year-old part-time player the highest paid guy in the game (yes, I know he doesn't get the whole $28mil) is the sort of laughably ludicrous personnel decision that has made an ironclad habit of backfiring in the Bronx since 2001. So I don't know why anybody is worried. This is only the second worst thing that's happened this week. The first was the Yanks firing their inept DOPE, Marty Miller. That guy could've single-handedly saved our season by crippling nearly every effective Yankee player. As it stands now, I expect the Yankees will cripple themselves throughout the year by making desperate, panic-stricken decisions like yesterday's. Hopefully they all won't come with their own seventh inning stretch nonsense like yesterday, cause man, the stretch at the damn Stadium is long enough, what with them parading out every jug-eared, fake Irish bastard they can find to slog through the entire cannon of patriotic songs in their ongoing and ever-increasingly sad attempt to capitalize and profit off of 9/11. They didn't win the Series that year for the people of New York, nor will they this year.

So, no atomic bombs. Maybe some 2,000 pound bunker busters, but no A-bombs. The Yankess are like an aging Hollywood starlet gone to seed who is constantly trying to make the front page again with just one more facelift, just a little more botox and some fake tits. At first, you might think it's an improvement, but then you realize that Roger Clemens just doesn't feel right when you squeeze him. Ewwww.

2 Comments:

Blogger Michael Leggett said...

Roger, Quite-Simply, is a FAT FUCK, faking his way as if he was a Professional Wrestler:

I wonder as to whem he'll pull his Hammy;

Will it be when he tries to throw at Mike Piazza, or will it be when he throws at Jose' Reyes?

6:25 PM  
Blogger Peter N said...

EEEWWWW is right!

9:28 AM  

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