Nick Swisher’s Hellickson nightmare. Oh. And the Braves want in the club…
At least we’re not alone.
Our friends in pinstripes, always striving to be the center of all things attention, can’t stand it when the media is Boston-centric. So they’ve decided to apply themselves like the hairless catted super villains they’ve always striven to be… and wrench that notoriety of failure from our cold Tito-less hands.
The Yankees are 0 and 3.
No, really. Thanks. Your sweptastic ramblings are keeping my panic at bay. Don’t let the broom hit you on the way to your massive amounts of shame. How are those trillion dollar box seats working out for you this week?
I mean, we went up against the Verlamonster. But. Um. You had a challenge too. I mean. Um. Josh Hellickson. Um. He’s okay. I guess.
I had a dream (or did I?) of Nick Swisher. He was sleeping, a fevered ranting, really. Tossing and turning. And shivering. He didn’t have a blanket, see, and every once in awhile, his fist would strike out at imaginary Tampa rays.
“No!” he would cry… “No! Jeremy Hellickson! Get away from me, Jeremy Hellickson! I’ll give you anything you want! Just don’t take my man card again, Jeremy Hellickson!”
How are YOU sleeping, Mariano Rivera?
At least OUR “closer” doesn’t wear t-shirts to sleep with his own face on them. I imagine you do that, Mariano. It must suck to have to look at the mirror and see your face TWICE in the morning after that opener.
You should give yourself a gift basket. It would make you feel better. Derek Jeter can help and you guys can bond over mangoes. Mangoes are probably a healthier thing to bond over than epic, epic failure.
Did you dream about Jeremy Hellickson last night, too, Joe Girardi?
I feel like we’re forgetting someone…
“It’s never good to come into the season and get swept,” Brian McCann says.
McCann? Oh, hi, Braves. I didn’t even notice you in the 0 and 3 clubhouse. Sup?
It’s kind of like September. How you were totally trying to outdo us in failure and no one noticed. You should wear more neon, Atlanta. Once you get those braces off, I’m sure it will be different. I’m sure the boys at school will notice you and you’ll have a real date to the dance and not a fake date like a cousin or something. Not that you do that. Not that I’m making a mean southern stereotype. Because I’m in the south too, see.
At least we are not Minnesota.
They just got swept by the fricking Orioles. The same Orioles that can’t beat a community college team.
So. Sucks to be us. But also sucks to be everyone else, apparently.
Because the winners lose to the community college kids, clearly an homage to some sitcom.
Check back at 7 p.m., kids. I think you’ll be pleased. Another blogger has issued a Toronto-centric challenge. So tonight’s redemption (and I mean re-fricking-demption, John Farrell. I am not playing your sick, sick syrup game) will be the opposite of sucky. I think.