Now that the ink is dry and Johan Santana has officially turned his head and coughed…I reckon it is time for me to write something about the ginormity of the Twins-Mets trade.
But I won’t…I don’t care.
Frankly, I was more excited when I heard that Sean Casey signed with the Red Sox then when I heard about Santana going to the Big Apple. We all knew he was going to be traded…and we all knew he was going to be going to one of a select handful of teams.
You see, I started this post a while back when comments like that were fresh. Since then, plenty has happened in the world and I’ve been way too sidetracked to sit down and bang out something new for you, my eight loyal readers.
In a world where Herbie Hancock (yes, THAT Herbie Hancock) wins the top Grammy of the night, Roger Clemens continues to piss away his credibility (and entrance to the Hall of Fame) and just minutes down the road from me, Northern Illinois University erupts in gunfire…I’ve got precious little to add.
I mean, who really cares what I think about Juan Gonzalez’s comeback and his chances of being elected to the Hall of Fame (he won’t) when, thanks to the writer’s strike being over, we’re just a few LONG months away from all new episodes of According to Jim?!?
So here ya have it…a lot of words, but no substance. Would you want it any other way?
I’ll be back in the fold within the week, gang. I’ve got some material kicking around this old head of mine and once I sort it out…we’re all in trouble.
Thank you for your patronage and to avoid this from becoming yet another cliché post, I have one last thing to add…“I drink your milkshake!”