The sun hangs high as beads of sweat trickle down Justin Upton's forehead, curve languidly around his nose and expire on his quivering lips. Stephen Drew grips his bat tightly, too tightly, grinding his Louisville Slugger into sawdust in a feeble attempt to postpone the inevitable. Conor Jackson, his hands trembling with fear, paces the room as his eyes dart nervously from side to side.
He knows. They all know.
Chad Ryan Billingsley is in town.
I'm not sure what the Arizona Diamondbacks did in a past life to draw Chad's home opener, but it must have been borderline genocidal. The poor things.
The citizens of Los Angeles really should count their blessings on a daily basis. Sunshine and shore lines as far as the eye can see, where gorgeous climate makes a November wiffle not only possible but downright mandatory. What's more, three of my league's GMs--all exceedingly attractive and DTF--can be found traipsing throughout LaLa Land on any given day.
And if all that wasn't enough, the incomparable Mr. Billingsley calls your historic Dodger Stadium home for half of his masterful innings every season. Does it get any better?
Oh, what a day! Spring is in full bloom. The weather outside is splendid. The Darling Asteroids hold a 7-4 lead over Joba Rules entering today, with Brad Penny, Randy Wells and, of course, our boy Chad all making starts.
And for you, Chad, three stanzas, all in haiku form. Why haiku?
Because watching you pitch is pure poetry. That's why.
More than a number
Scrawled on broad shoulders, with which
You carry the day.
More than any win
Or pitch, or strike or smile.
Fifty Eight is more.
From one to ten, how
Much do I love you, dear Chad?
Simple: Fifty Eight.
1 comment:
You are so gay lol
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