A seemingly endless long weekend has everyone I know moving very, very slowly. We could all use a little Alkaline pick-me-up through our tender and sunburnt nipples.
Brandon League - Oxidized
Brandon League hooked his right arm up to a car battery, hoping to shake off muscle atrophy. He saw his first action in more than a week, pitching two innings that didn't exactly inspire unchecked glee. He did wriggle out of a minijam and was at least on the mound in a situation that mattered. He throws harder than Chris Snyder or Jose Molina will be for a while.
Miguel Cairo - Undead
Miguel Cairo - Yankees Glue Guy was really easy to hate. Just another journeyman that can do no wrong when he straps on those damned pinstripes. He's now reduced to being a random bench guy on the worst team in baseball. Clearly his career is dead or at least dying. Suddenly, he pops up and starts driving in winning runs, pissing me off and costing the Jays games. The only explanation: HE'S A ZOMBIE! Some cruel bastard hooked his corpse to a 12 volt car battery and here he is; moving runners over, bunting and feasting on the flesh of the living. Re-animated without the benefit of blinding speed.
Adam Lind - Someone Left the Lights On
Adam Lind's star shone so brightly. The cognescenti has been heralding him as the savior all year long, largely because of his crazy numbers at every level. We shouldn't dismiss the fact that we're all fools waiting for the next big thing. Unwashed, uninformed masses full of hope and cheese doodles.
His first go-around this season had him looking over his shoulder after every at bat, wondering when the ax would fall. 19 at bats later, Gibby emerged from the local multiplex only to learn his car was dead. The sumbitch won't even turn over! Cito produced the jumper cables from within his jalopy's trunk, restarting Adam Lind's season. His obvious talent is the alternator, providing some much needed power. OPS Express for life.
Erin Andrews - Untalented
I'll never understand the universe's Erin Andrews worship. Reading any major sports blog makes it impossible to be unaware of her ex-cheerleader persona. Sure, she's reasonably attractive, works in and presumably enjoys sports. Hooray, she's every lazy man's dream. You think that shit would last? You can share all the interests in the world; once your undying attention shifts from her you'll find yourself debating the merits of paint colours with names varying from aplomb to capri coast to barrista. Beige. They're all fucking beige.
The internets are set ablaze anytime she does anything, including our prolific manfriend David Chalk posting a video of her getting the diaper dandy treatment from Dickie Vee. Watching the video my only thoughts are: GAHHHH! That accent is a fate worse than death; a torture I cannot withstand. She needs to partake in some Veronica Corningstone non-regional diction exercises. I'm not too proud to post her picture though. Let the hits roll in!!