The King and Jeff
I wish I was the kind of person who enjoyed aiming low blows at my friends. I’d like to be able to question why someone who will turn 30 thirteen
short days after me is counting down the days to my own birthday. I wish I could sit here and wonder out loud if my friend not having a girlfriend for the last several years somehow affected his cognitive skills. It would be great to openly wonder why he thinks that dousing himself in the smell of BK is effective for picking up women. But, I’m not that kind of person. I’m a real friend.
So, I’m not going to address the spurious accusations made at my expense yesterday. It would be demeaning to all of us and the work we do if I pointed out that most of the baseball intelligentsia thought the Tigers would win the World Series last year and concluded that Dave Dombrowski had hoodwinked the entire league with his off-season moves. I’d be doing no one a favor by saying that Detroit and the state of Michigan have been suffering since the 70’s (just watch The Crow, Gran Torino or Eight Mile to see what I’m talking about) and it’s only natural that its residents hopelessness would also be reflected in their view of sporting pursuits.
No, I refuse to debase myself in the same way as my friend. Instead, in the spirit of this new year full of hope and change, I’m going to say, “good luck, Jeffery.” I hope the Cardinals pick up some relief pitching so AP’s offense isn’t wasted. I hope that 30 treats you well and really is the new 21. And I hope that you go on a date. Seriously, though, you gotta rid of the BK cologne first.