If you could spend the day with any non-Cardinal baseball player
currently playing in the majors, who would it be and what would you do?

Melissa
Sandusky, OH
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Is it just me or am I constantly being set up by my friends and dear readers to expound on my favorite baseballers in a way that encourages embracing a certain, subtly disclosed homoerotic undertone?

Or, maybe I’m just reading too much into it.

I dunno.

Okay, Melissa, so you take away my number one and two options by canceling out the Cards; but let me assure you, the number three spot is also a no-brainer.  For me, anyway.  Of course, you may be shocked to hear it but for this hypothetical man-crush date (is it a man-crush date or did I make that part up too?) I’m going with the one, the only:

Stephen James Strasburg.

WHAT!?!?

Exactly.

Here’s how our date day will go…

9 a.m. Workout
I pick Stephen up and we head to the Nats’ training facility.  I am Stephen’s shadow.  I do very little talking and a whole lot of observing.  I don’t wanna make this strange for the 22 year old phenom, so I just go with the flow.  I know Stephen is out for the season, recovering from Tommy John surgery, but a man’s still gotta stay in shape and I wanna know how he does it. (Also, when no one is looking, I coat Nyjer Morgan’s supportive equipment with government grade Tiger Balm.)

12 p.m. Lunch
We eat a healthy, protein-packed lunch that will fire our fast twitch muscle fibers so we recover faster, to become stronger.  I now start asking questions, overly aware of how annoying I can be when given free reign to discuss all-things baseball.  Eventually, these questions lead to hitter preparation science, so off we go to…

2 p.m. Video Room
I want to get inside the head of Stephen Strasburg.  So I present to him a reel of the Major League’s best hitters: Albert Pujols, Adrian Gonzalez, Joey Votto.  I want to know how he is going to approach them.  I want to see him point out their holes.  Stephen, of course, is as calculated as he is modest, and he ain’t givin’ up too many secrets.

3 p.m.  Practice Field [For this part, let us forget that Stephen can't pitch right now, shall we?]
Luckily, I brought along my catcher’s equipment from high school (it all still fits!), including my over sized mitt.  I take my place behind the plate and ask Stephen to go easy on me.  In high school I think the fastest fastball I ever caught was in the 70 mph range.  After three Strasburg change-ups, I lose all feeling in my catching hand.  But this is Stephen Friggin’ Strasburg, so I man up, take the pain and ask for more.  Watching his yacker yack and his fastball bite, wow… just, wow.

5 p.m. My Crib
All my best friends (Mr. Krause, Johanna Mahmud, Yadier Molina) come over to my place.  We got beer.  We got wings.  We got pizza.  We also got a big screen HD TV showing the very first Strasmas ever: June 8, 2010 — the greatest single regular season game that didn’t mean anything, ever played, in the history of my universe.  Ever.  We watch in amazement as Stephen talks us through each at-bat, each pitch, each hair raising moment. 

After three plus hours of pizza, wings, beer and Strasmas in my very own living room, I am finally able to sit back on my couch, relax, and wait to die.

It’s been a splendid day.

Life is good.

Don’t hate me.

‘Cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

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