Monday, February 16, 2009

Occasionally tired of butchering one another Union & Confederate soldiers would kill time away from the battlefield with countless innings of baseball cultivating a national past time spanning over 150 years until that common ground was laid to waste by farm animals grazing dangerously close to Abner Doubleday's grave. Abner not only shaped America's game he went to bat for the Union Army distinguishing himself at the Battle of Gettysburg while the offending animals made a name for themselves soiling the founding father's plot in the guise of player, owner, and commissioner. Unsatisfied with the life of a ballplayer, resentful of others having $200 million in the bank while being forced to live on half that, and consumed by feelings of inadequacy due to borderline hall of fame talent the choice became simple - inject the swine with human growth hormone. Did your daddy only give you co-ownership of the New York Yankees? Displeased your billion dollar toy didn't come fully loaded with a functioning farm? Are you unable to grow crops of your own yet still shameless enough to monopolize the trough during harvest? well by all means procure a team of all-stars, roll around in your own filth for a couple of decades, then decry the system as being unfair when your Yankees fail to make the playoffs for the first time in 14 years. Rising above the squalor was to be the office of the commissioner a position created solely to protect the game slowly devolved into just another tax collector a revenue chasing whore operating upon an unproven theory that increased run production leads to larger pots of gold giving us juiced baseballs, lower pitching mounds, designated hitters, microscopic strike zones & little league dimensions the latter of which retains at least one redeeming quality for it is far easier to corral pigs on a smaller field.