Saturday, April 25, 2009

Whoopsy!

I was a ball player. I was good. When I played for the Oakland A's,
everyone wanted to be close to me. Everyone wanted my autograph.
I even became more famous than Rickey Henderson. He was pissed.
Screw him, though. He was a dope fiend. We were friends, yeah, but
his ego was a massive. I was the calm, collected one. What about
McGuire, you ask? McGuire was a public nice guy and a private 
jerk. At least Henderson wasn't two-faced - he was a jackass all
the time.

Anyways, I used to hit. I could field, too. I broke records. I was on
my way to the hall.

And then something happened.

I changed teams. I got injured. I made stupid speeches in the face
of the people I should have never trusted - the media. They ate
me up. Someone hit a ball deep in the outfield and I tripped as
the ball hit my head and bounced over the fence for a homerun.
I made the news more that night than I ever did as a triple crown
winner. Do something right - you'll hear a little. Do something
wrong - you'll hear a lot. That's my motto.

Anyways, the whole thing was crazy. Everything I said seemed to
get amplified. I should have just shut up and played. But I got
injured more. And then I pleaded for more money. 

I pitched a game, once. It was bad. I wanted to prove that I could
play any position but I walked almost every batter. 

I've done things, though. I've done things.

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