I’m back. Ohman won the milk-chugging contest. It was fricking gross. He should have told someone he’s lactose-intolerant. I tell everyone I meet that I’m jackass-intolerant. This means you, Hendry. Anyhow, so much crap keeps happening, that I feel the need to keep you idiots informed. That way, when someone says, “Did you hear that so-and-so did such-and-such?” you won’t have to say, “No, I didn’t hear that, because I had my this-and-that shoved up my Now and Later.”
Guess where my right hand is.
- Did this town have such inept managers that everyone is shocked that the second baseman might not be hitting second in the lineup? I might put a right fielder in there. I might put a left fielder in there. I might put a catcher in there. I might put myself in there if these idiots can’t get the job done. It’s a new era, bitches.
- Wood is likely ditching the curveball, since he won’t need it as much as a reliever. He’s going to stick mostly with a fastball-slider combo, with the occasional changeup in there. I tried to convince Wood to ditch Marquis and Dempster, too. He just laughed. I like what I’m seeing out of that kid. Oh, and from that first article, Dempster said they can play Sinatra on the mound, for all he cares. Maybe the ball should request “Fly Me to the Moon.”
- Speaking of Dempster, I beat the holy hell out of Dibble, and I can certainly beat the tar out of that redheaded stepchild.
- I still need to find a long reliever, and Cotts may fill that role. I’ll tell you who isn’t long. Prior. Hung like a Tic-Tac. I’m just saying.
- Santo is still the little engine that could. If the Veterans Committee of the Hall of Fame doesn’t let him in this year, I will personally fly to each one of their homes and beat them senseless. Even if they voted for Santo.
Well, back to work. The Tribune asked me to make the boys run some more wind sprints so they can take ridiculous pictures like this one.
-Sweet Uncle Lou