I’m going to do my best to have a weekly blog post to kind of recap what’s happening both in our league, and, less importantly, the major leagues as a whole. As follows:
MOVERS AND/OR SHAKERS: NOT THE KIND WITH FURNITURE
There were a couple moves made this week. First off, Jay and Scott colluded (they are, after all, roomies) on a trade, sending Curtis Granderson and Jason Izzwring Hisbling Numbnuts to Jay in trade for a box of tissues and 6 years worth of old Sears’ Catalogs. Also included in the deal as throwins were Chris B. Young (not to be confused with Johnnie B. Good) and Jake “Go” Westbrook “Young” “Man”.
The second move made, a blockbuster of ID4 proportions, saw Josh falling prey to the wiley huckster (me), foolishly sending the amazing young talent Austin Kearns (like the juice, only sweeter) in return for the washed out, torn and faded cuckold Derek Lowe. Josh was later seen trading a coworker a dime for a shiny new nickel.
TOP PERFORMERS
- Josh did okay
- Jay did alright
- My team was spectacular. Lead by the strength of my amazing pitching, I vaulted into the thick of the meaningless battle for 1st place in the first week of the season
TOP PERFORMERS AT SUCKING
- Homosexual-Rod, and my offense in general. I mean, Jeebus F’n C. What the hell. Damn.
- There is no number two.
- Certain managers, who shall remain nameless, seem unable to get out of the basement. Not that we’ll name names. Pat.
BAEBALL, RAY
The Cubs, bouyed by three incredibly strong pitching performances, managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. It was kind of like when you’re swimming in the deep end of the pool right after eating a burrito, and you’re gripped by a frightening feeling in your nethers that causes you to plummet to the bottom of the pool, scrambling for your goggles and noseplugs, hoping against hope that you’re able to get them on in time. But then, while you’re down there, you get a stomach cramp and wind up drowning. The cramp, in this case, was Michael Barrett, whose passed ball lost them a game, and the burrito was Carlos Zambrano, who decided to cock up opening day for the third straight year. After the game an enraged Carlos used a shot-put-style throw to launch a busload of nuns into orbit. You can still see them in their holy glory, just above the western sky. They’re the small, quick-moving speck of light that seems to be counting on a rosary.
The A’s Managed to match the Cubs in futility, though they salvaged a .500 record after starting out 0-2. They plan on keeping their record at .500 until August, winning 20 in a row, and then fading miserably in the playoffs, followed by the public shaming of having a man that can’t satisfy his wife grab his obviously-ineffective genitals in their direction.
The Braves started strong, riding the strong right arm of Tim Hudson to a victory in the only game of theirs that I cared about.
The Giants have started out slowly, their 120 Million Dollar Mistake Man managing to give up a hojillian runs, at one point pausing for a guitar solo as the runner on first simply rounded the bases. SF fans are in the doldrums, as their playoff hopes obviously shrivel and wither like Barry Bonds’ testicles after a decade of the cream and the clear.
DID YOU KNOW
That Rich Hill will win the Cy Young? You heard it here first.
AND THAT…was the week that was.