Bill:
I'm neithah a doctah nor did I stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night, but if a guy is sick to the point where he can't hold down food and is severely weakened by antibiotics, maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't try to throw a baseball past Major League hittahs?
Mike:
Jeez, no kidding. We are constantly admonished to piss our pants in joy for the so-called "gamahs" and "dirt dogs" who play through sickness and pain and have to have the ball pried out of their cold dead hands and shit but, really, if at day's end all the Calvinistic machismo just leads to a loss, what's the friggin' point?
Bill:
And is it me or are the Red Sox like the most sickly team in the league? I mean on any given day it seems a couple guys are battling some form of near death malady.
Mike:
Despite the front office's acumen with sabermetrics and key playah pickups, the simple concept of keeping the sick guys away from the healthy guys and thereby preventing the spread of pathogens seems entirely lost on them.
Bill:
Well, these are the medieval Red Sox after all. The last team to integrate, the last team to cast aside the shroud of racism and anti-semitism … you can't expect newfangled ideas like covering your mouth when you sneeze and washing your hands aftah taking a dump to be accepted overnight.
Mike:
When the bird flu finally arrives, this club is so fucking screwed.
Bill:
Fortunately for now, Wells' upchuck had no effect on the standings as the D-Rays continue to plague the Yankees like an unlanced and festering boil on Steinbrenah's sagging ass.
Mike:
The Yankees are now 4-9 vs. Tampa Bay. Sweet.
Bill:
So much for the "mystique and aura" snake oil they've been peddling for years.
