An Unseasonably Warm Lament
We should all be outside, throwing the ball around with the neighborhood kids, hitting grounders with the fungo bat and telling little Jimmy to keep his eye on the ball, to level his swing.
Instead, we find ourselves trapped inside our apartments — breaking things — deeply saddened by today’s news and seriously questioning our loyalty to a game that continues to let us — an entire nation — down.
This, my friends, will be the legacy of Bud Selig.
Screw revenue sharing. Forget the WBC. Eat it on interleague play.
Bud Selig is the sole reason why we the fans — the rock-solid foundation of Major League Baseball — find ourselves in the midst of yet another seriously debilitating depression.
Go ahead, Bud. Pretend like you didn’t know anything. Entertain your highfalutin, self-righteous, narcissistic thoughts as being the trailblazing ambassador of the game.
Yes. We all know.
The Truth is: YOU dropped the ball.
And you will forever be remembered for that.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.