Baseball! The fat kid of professional sports. Maybe. What the hell do I know about sports? All I know is that Dustin talked about catchers (catchers…heh heh) and StoatCat responded with what they thought Baseball was missing. I’d have to agree. It would all be like that one episode of The Simpsons where they bring in all the professional players to play in Springfield. Here’s the comment:
“What does baseball need?
Steroids. Lots and lots of steroids.
You heard me. Er, read me.
I like my athletes with biceps the size of cantalopes and nuts the size of…well, nuts. I want my AL MVP to have batting average big enough to match his gigantism-enlarged head, and when he tears an ACL puffing his way around the bases, I want the security of knowing he’ll be back, good as new, in about two weeks, thanks to exercise, proper diet, and “all-natural herbal supplements” injected directly into his ass. I want him to celebrate his walk-off home runs with a combination of child-like glee and the manic rage of an alpha chimp, running on his fists on all fours and using his teammates, opposing players, umps, and foul poles as props in his aggressive masculine display of dominance. In his victorious joy, as the fireworks burst overhead and the theme from “The Natural blares over the tinny loudspeakers, he will forget to round the bases.
I will stand, clap, give him The Claw and Antlers, and weep for joy.
Also, Peter King has clearly stolen “Ham” Porter’s pants. Coffee-swilling bastard.”