Sporting News, the sports magazine #1 amongst dentist office waiting areas, has decided that Roy Halladay is their “professional athlete of the year.” Also apparently Sporting News has a ‘”professional athlete of the year” contest every year.
With all these “-Lee” puns flying around, and the spontaneous orgies erupting from the assembly of a rotation that has descended from Olympus, one could forget that its the Halladays. HA HA HA. Hey, its your own fault for continuing to read this.
Yes, the argument that the Phillies need to do something to prove to Roy that he’s still our number one guy, in the wake of all the Cliff Lee fanfare, has been presented. Unless Doc is a completely different person behind closed doors, one would assume that the last thing he is worried about is losing his status. I mean, they did just give him an ll expenses paid fishing trip in appreciation of his perfect game. But when you get down to it, would Roy Halladay really give a shit about egos colliding?
Again, unless my perception of what he’s like is just way off, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who demands constant compensation and affection. He seems like the kind of guy whose already sick of this conversation because its seriously cutting into his workout. Oh, you didn’t realize he was working out as he was talking to you? That’s because he exists on a plane of existence that only allows in winners. GTFO.
In that vein, he should be nothing but pleased that Cliff is here. But not for too long, because he’s got some stairs to run. Up the side of a mountain.
This is where I would probably transition with something like “… and it is these qualities that had the Sporting News’ attention while deciding which athlete of merit was most deserved of their prize.” But that’s so boring I fell asleep at the end of the word “qualities” and had to finish everything else six hours later when I finally woke up at my desk.
And its not even really true. Roy Halladay could just be a dick; flicking off the media, punching Chooch in the stomach between every pitch, or believing in the organic values of composting, but just so he’d have a fresh garbage heap to throw at orphans. But to reiterate–he’s not. My point is, he could be, and you’d still have to acknowledge the perfect game, the second no-no in MLB playoffs history, and the Cy Young Award, and pitching style and dedication that has crafted him into the far superior human being we get to see go to work every fifth day of the summer.
So what was the point of all this? To just say “Congratulations, Roy, on another of many awards.” And also, “Thank you for not torturing orphans with moldy fruit.”