Roger and Me

The Mets are in full implosion mode as they stumble into another lost September, so I’m in a particularly foul mood. What a fine time to take it out on a few of my least favorite people in baseball — at least for this week.

Roger and his ugly tie

Roger Clemens: I’m not sure he’s still worthy of  my contempt, but I’ll include him  nonetheless because he’s such a wide open target. I really began to despise Roger when he donned the Pinstripes back in ’99. Things grew worse when he plunked Mike Piazza and followed it up with the infamous bat shard toss in Game 2 of the Subway Series. Over the years, his arrogance and pomposity only made me think less of him, although I maintained a healthy respect for his enormous talent. But the last two years have really tested the limits of my distaste for the guy. The allegations of steroid use, and Roger’s ever growing arrogance and denial in the face of  a federal indictment for perjury now bring  my blood to a boiling point every time I see his face. Like yesterday, all tanned and smug (and lovely blonde highlights) in his mugshot as he entered a not guilty plea in Washington, D.C. And then he goes and does his usual thing: he hits the golf course. Not that I expected him to take in the Munch show at the National Gallery. Whether or not he goes to jail, he’ll be locked out of the Hall of Fame, that’s for sure. Maybe that will humble his Texas-sized ego. But I doubt it.  

Frank and Jamie McCourt: the worst thing to happen to the Dodgers since they fled Brooklyn.  With their messy, sleazy and very public divorce, they’re a perfect pair for LA. But they’re a disaster for one of the crown jewels of baseball. If I’m a Dodgers fan, all I can say to the McCourts is: How dare you drag you rich butts across country to soil the heritage of my team! You are an affront to all that is Dodger Blue! Settle your wretched affairs, no matter what it costs you, and whoever is left standing with the team, sell it and get out of town! Maybe you can head north and buy the Giants. They deserve you after all those years of enabling Barry Bonds! If Jamie ends up out of baseball, she should run for public office as one of Sarah Palin’s Mama Grizzlies. She’s perfect for the part.

John Sterling: it’s bad enough that I have to listen to the Yankees radio voice shout such brilliant lines as, “Robbie Cano! Don’t You Know!” and “An A-Bomb! From A-Rod!” But now, with Marcus Thames on a roll, I have to put up with “Happy Thames are here again!” Please!!    

Grumpy old man

Bobby Cox: Great manager, sure Hall of Famer. But I am so tired of him mouthing off on every questionable pitch and going ballistic on every call that goes the other way. I am really rooting for the Braves to make the postseason so that Cox can suffer yet another first round exit  in the final October of his career. Get ready to chill out, Bobby. 

Francisco Rodriguez: three weeks later and I have not yet cooled off about K-Rod. He took a bad Mets season and pushed it over the cliff. Or the Whitestone Bridge. He’s now gone for the season due to an injury inflicted when pounding the face of his girlfriend’s father and I hope he’s gone for good from Citi Field. If the Mets can find  away to void the remainder of his contract, then I will call this season a success.

Brandon Phillips: the new Jimmy Rollins, from his considerable talent, to his mastery over the Mets,  to his loose cannon of  a mouth. It’s only a  matter of time before he incites another brawl. 

Alex Rodriguez: he really hasn’t done anything to tick me off recently, but he’ll always make this list.  His next grandstand play is always right around the corner.

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