A Dog's Breakfast Of An Afternoon

Frank Thoughts On 'Giner Bruising

I leave Toronto for one weekend, one fucking weekend, and wouldn’t you know it: All hell breaks loose, and the Blue Jays are making news everywhere. Reports of Frank Thomas’ release could even be found in Montreal, where baseball news is normally as prevalent as Coca Cola, small noses and birth control.

Despite my best effort to find something wrong with what Mindrew Stotetilner has already posted, I’m coming up empty. I can’t argue with a single point. Thomas was struggling, but obviously his benching had much more to do with a certain contract clause, than his minuscule batting average. If he's not going to play nice with a reduced role, what other choice does Ricciardi have (other than going back in time and never signing Thomas in the first place)?

The whole affair sort of reminds me of choosing to not go home with a girl specifically because you know you’ll have to have breakfast with her the next morning.

The most surprising factor for me is how little everyone seems to care that the Jays best hitter from just a season ago is no longer with the team. I don't disagree with the lack of mourning. I'm just surprised.

The only tears I’ve shed are for the poor saps who decided to purchase a Frank Thomas jersey on Friday night. Hopefully, Frank Thomas bobblehead night on May 24th will cheer them up.

Afternoon Baseball . . . Sort Of

The Chairman and I met up to go to this afternoon’s game and made the enormously foolish decision to sit on the third base side, where due to the shade, temperatures dropped low enough to freeze multiple layers of hell.

The only notable part of today’s 5-1 loss to the Tigers was the elderly Nicorette Girl that was dragged out of the nursing home for today’s promotion. Her face was as leathery and worked in as Alan Ashby’s childhood baseball mit. To the best of my knowledge, Ashby didn’t try to snack on her at any point of today’s matinée.

At least not to the degree that Tigers hitters snacked on Shaun Marcum’s pitches during the second inning. The Tigers blooped, grounded and maximized on Toronto’s errors to earn four runs in their side of the frame. My heart goes out to Marcum who had to learn the hard way that pitching to contact isn’t quite the same when defensively gifted players aren’t on the field.

Oh, and a big “way to fucking go” to the Blue Jays lineup, who once again struggled against a young pitcher they had not seen before. Where are those videos, Denbo?

Up Next

The Walt Disney World Series begins tomorrow night, and we all know the enormous stakes for this one.

Merci Beaucoup

A big DJF thanks goes out to AOL Fanhouse for letting me share my experiences at UFC 83 in Montreal, even if the majority of those experiences seemed to have been deemed inappropriate for the final cut.

Who knew that twitterpation, passed out frat boys and creative sexual maneuvers aren't necessarily generally accepted blogging fodder? I still maintain that grappling school is a good euphemism for sexual relations.