Hug It Out

A closed-door, Asteroids-only meeting was held yesterday in an attempt to save a team in disarray.

The Darlings' horrid five week stretch of play has put a strain on clubhouse morale, and the team has become divided.

Fingers have been pointed. Blame has been placed. Mothers have been insulted.

"You haven't hit a homerun in over a month!" Randy Wells screamed at Matt Wieters.

"You've lost your last five decisions!" Wieters yelled right back.

But the biggest scuffle of all was between Cubs starter Ted Lilly and White Sox outfielder Juan Pierre.

Lilly carried a no-hitter into the 9th inning Sunday night at Wrigley Field, and Pierre was called upon to pinch hit. Three pitches later he smacked the ball into centerfield, taking Lilly's shot at glory right along with it.

Even worse, Lilly was immediately pulled for Carlos Marmol, who notched the save. Marmol just happened to be owned by last week's opponent, my roommate Geoff, and that save pulled the week's score even at 6-6.

During the closed-door meeting, Lilly and Pierre had to be separated.

"You son of a &$*%@, you weren't even in the starting lineup!" Lilly roared.

"Maybe next time don't throw an 86-MPH fastball on the outer half of the plate, you joke!" Pierre shouted back.

Ryan Sweeney tried to intervene and is now listed as day-to-day with severely hurt feelings.

As manager of the Darling Asteroids, I take full responsibility for my team's struggles. Truth be told, I haven't been paying as much attention to the team as I should be.

The NHL playoffs sucked me into their enthralling vortex of knucklepucks, flying Vs and triple dekes...and like a ship drawn to the Sirens' song, my eyes were diverted toward Lord Stanley's Cup as my hometown Flyers marched deeper into the playoffs.

Unfortunately, destiny was not on the Fly Guys' side this year and the Chicago Blackhawks won it all, making my fling with hockey all the more fruitless.

Nothing to do now except try to re-establish a relationship of trust with my Darlings, who I've greatly disappointed.

That, and post this former Sports Illustrated cover photo. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

Suck it, Chicago.

And so, fellas, I'm here to beg your forgiveness.

Hockey seemed new and exciting. I got a rush whenever someone was checked into the boards.

Simon Gagne kept me up late on school nights, and didn't always call when he said he would. I was young and foolish. I'm sorry.

I looked...but I never touched. I wouldn't do that to you, baseball.

I can't tell you how sorry I am for the way I've acted, so I'll let the King do it for me.

(No, not Felix Hernandez. I'm talking about Elvis Presley. Come on, Pudge Rodriguez...stay focused)

Maybe I didn't treat you quite as good as I should have
Maybe I didn't love you quite as often as I could have
Little things I should have said and done
I just never took the time...
But you were always on my mind.

I'll take you back to the night of May 7th. The Flyers were down in their series 3-0 to the Boston Bruins, and Jamie Moyer was baffling the Braves.

As the hockey game entered overtime and the Phillies entered the 8th inning, I thought to myself, "Which would I rather see: the Flyers stay alive, or 47-year-old Jamie Moyer throw a two-hit complete game shutout?"

And believe me, fellas...I thought about it for about four seconds. It was no contest. I would have happily traded a Bruins goal for a Phillies win.

You see, boys? You're still my number one. The NHL may have had my attention, but it never had my heart. That belongs to you, Chad Billingsley.

And to you, Matt Kemp.

And to you, Evan Longoria.

Heck, even you, David Aardsma...get over here, you big goof.

Handshake? Put that thing away, bring it in for the real thing. Let's hug it out.

No homo.

I'm back, boys, and it feels like I never left. Hockey season is over, the NBA Finals will be decided by week's end, and I've already stopped pretending to give a damn about soccer.

We need to reconnect, team, and this closed-door meeting was a good start.

And while Pablo Sandoval and Francisco Cordero are doing trust falls in the corner, I want to take this time to reassure you all that something like this will never happen again.

This week we do battle with Inglorious Batters, who sit in third place. It's quite a tall order, but nothing we can't handle if we play as a team and believe in ourselves.

And no matter the outcome, I'm taking you all out for pizza after the week.

I love you, Darling Asteroids. Let's never fight again.