Okay, cubcakes. So a couple of days ago the Commish dealt your reigning National League MVP a one-game suspension and an “undisclosed” fine for his post-game MF-ing of home plate umpire Brian Knight on Monday. To that I say, WHAT A FRIGGIN’ D-BAG! No, I’m not talking about Robbie Womanfred (for once). And please don’t get me started on umpires — hasn’t been a good one since Dutch Rennert forced me to stuff napkins in my ears to soften the blow my eardrums took each time he called a strike. I’m talking about the pretty boy from Vegas who thinks baseball is “tired” and in need of more players who express themselves.
Express yourself? Really? What … the metrosexual haircut and shaved chest ain’t enough, Brycie?
You know who gets tired of Harper’s expression, besides me and … oh, I don’t know … Jonathon Papelbon? Dusty Baker, that’s who. The Nationals’ skipper doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Harper expressing himself in any other ways besides hittin’ the orb out of the house, and gettin’ his friggin’ batting average above .265; a mark usually reserved for all-pick-no-stick shortstops, not someone on the verge of signing the fattest contract in sports history. Dusty’s old, man! He’s got no patience for a 23-year-old punk who thinks his crap oughta be sold next to Chanel No. 5. He’s not interested in damage control, which Harper’s mouth heaps on him regularly. Dusty just wants to win. To a veteran baseball guy, that’s the best form of expression. It’s just harder to do when your best guy gets tossed with the score tied in the ninth.
Harper, of course, was saved when pinch-hitter, Clint Robinson, swatted a walk-off homer minutes after he was ejected. Was he grateful? No. Did he fully celebrate with his team? Also, no. Brycie expressed himself. Boom! Suspended. What a douchebag.
Maybe you can’t blame a guy for being a douchebag when, as a slightly younger kid, he was paraded around the country chasing showcase after showcase, so that Scott Boras (speaking of douchebags) could fatten his wallet. Brycie thinks he’s the best thing since Old Style in a can cuz he’s been told that his whole life. Well, pallie, 1) Old Style in a bottle is the next best thing to Old Style in a can, and 2) there’s nothin’ like a pissed off manager and a steady diet of cheese between the shoulder blades to modify one’s behavior. It’s the baseball version of B.F. Skinner. (Look it up, head-shrinkers.)
When Brycie does sign his mega-gihugic, national debt-sized contract, I’m bettin’ (perfect for a Vegas guy, right) the team that pays him will have wasted millions on an athlete that ends up sharing a booth with guys like Tiger and A-Rod. What scares me is that the Cubbies will be the highest bidder.
Joe