And at the cue of the gunshot that followed Rich Dubee’s expressionless walk behind the shed with Jose Contreras, the Phillies are off and running on what appears to be the second string of rash injuries to befall this–don’t forget–cripplingly enfeebled lineup. (more…)

“Okay!” we shouted back at our televisions.  Then, we ran to the internet, where these things are done.  There were campaigns.  There were contests.  There were round-the-clock vote-athons at the Tastykake Factory.  There were Hawaiian governors walking around their state asking for votes.  Those are the four main components of getting some elected.  Anything more or less would have ended in disaster.

“Whoops, I fell down in the outfield,” Shane informed us.  ”Don’t worry, I’m totally fine.”

“Hmm,” we thought as he boarded a plane to Philadelphia to have his injured thumb examined.  ”That doesn’t seem like something a healthy player would do.”

“Ha, ha, I’m fine,” Shane replied.  ”Totally fine.  No one look over here.”

“But Shane, that looks like a doctor’s office you’re walking into.”

“This?  What?  No, no, no.  This is a… this is like a… bike shop.  Yeah.” (more…)

I’ve had hundreds of hand contusions in my day and only seven of them weren’t because I was building a chicken coop without a hammer.  I once strolled to the plate with a few nails sticking out of each of my bloodied hands and the umpire told me I’d have to at least get the stray dogs to stop following me before the game could go on.

(more…)