YFSF

The Serious Stuff

Really, who wants to talk about statistics, our great second basemen, or anything about this coming season? We'd rather discuss the insanity of a certain franchise's third baseman, a guy who apparently lives in a world where sitting in the Owner's box in full public view while at the most-watched sporting event of the year in the US means you are off-limits to the cameras.

We have a word for this type of guy here in Brooklyn. Hint: it rhymes with "Masshole".

Bad Call

Who put quaaludes in Don Orsillo's water? His home run calls on Big Papi's shots the last two nights have been positively disinterested. We aren't calling for John Sterling-type idiocy, but come on, Don, a little energy!

How I Met Your G%#$MNED Right Fielder

 

Last night we tuned into one of our Monday standbys (we were Ted Mosby before there was a Ted Mosby, weak fictional alma mater notwithstanding) when who saunters in to McLaren's but Nick Swisher, taking a minor star turn. Swisher was pretty likable, we have to admit. Hopefully next year the cast gets the jealous willies when JD Drew comes in for a tipple.