Thursday, October 30, 2008
The Ace of All Frankenstein's
It shouldn't come as a surprise to you, fair reader, that I, Doc Holliday, hate Halloween. Yes, I said it - it stinks. It stinks like a wheel of cheese left in the sun for a week. It stinks like a fat person after court-mandated spin class. It stinks worse than the wafting smell of shit outside the men's bathroom in Grand Central Terminal. There's nothing about this "holiday" that I find appealing. And neither should you, by the way, if you're over the age of 13. And if you give me the old "girls wear slutty costumes" argument, I'll be forced to ask you - A. are you going home with one of these vixens? And B. if not, why are you exposing yourself to such ungodly torture?
I rest my case.
But, it pays to stay with a blogospheric theme. And since today is Halloween, and I'm sure every other baseball blog out there that now has dick left to talk about will be posting something to go with the spirit of the day. So, I thought I'd relate one of WMHG's favorite subjects to this bullshit celebration: Free Agent Pitchers.
Who doesn't love the thought of their respective team trotting out a new and improved rotation come April? I know I do, I had to watch that fat disaster Sidney Ponson pitch every 5th day. And what better way to get everything you want in a new free agent signee than by dissecting all of them, taking the pieces you want, and adding them together as your own Frankenstein monster.
Part 1 - The Body
Some critics will say that because C.C. Sabathia is 400 lbs, his body will not hold up. I disagree. Why? Because obese people do not drop dead until they're in their 40's. Sabathia is 28, so there's no need to fret.
Part 2 - The Eyes
What is more dissuading (and slightly erotic) than one single piercing blue eye staring you down from 60 feet 6 inches away? Nothing - except maybe a piss-drunk Kyle Farnsworth. And since Kyle Farnsworth isn't a starter, we get the right eye of Ben Sheets.
Part 3 - The Hair
My pitcher needs a sweet 'do. Call me vain, call me superficial, but if my pitcher does not have curls swinging wildly like tentacles after delivering a high-and-tight fastball, well, then I'm not interested. Pedro Martinez has cultivated his geri-curl/afro creation like no one in the last 25 years, so he gets the nod for this section.
Part 4 - The Guts
When you're a middle-aged lefty with a surname other than Johnson, you have no business pitching in the major leagues. You have no business pitching for your work softball league either - let that guy Steve from Sales get a look. But somehow, Moyer has not only stuck around, but also managed to lead the World Series Champion Phillies in wins and time spent trying to shit out the previous night's dinner. Now those are guts of steel, ladies and gents, that I would like to have.
Part 5 - The Arm
If there's one free agent starter out there who can throw 96+ MPH from the 1st inning through the 9th inning, it's A.J. Burnett. You can keep the rest of his septic body, I'll take the arm.
Part 6 - The Mustache
Again, some of you may think I'm more concerned more about appearance than physical and mental makeup, but I assure you, the mustache is much more important than one may think. Who do you know that has a mustache? Your creepy uncle, right? And are you scared of him? Yes. And that's why my pitcher needs a World Class 'stache. And who better to take from then the biggest hick/creepiest man alive, Randy Johnson.
Part 7 - The Groin
Think I'm talking about muscles here? Think again, nerd - I'm talking about Pavano's pishadoo, his manhood. This guy's run through more 10's than Tony LaRussa at a strip club bar. My creation needs this kind of experience for when the ladies start flocking and he needs to concentrate on shutting down the Sox at Fenway.