eh..no they rarely over hyped as much as now. Of course he got off to a really good start and then the hype started and he never lived up to it again

Coutlangus is smoove.  Keep Coutlangus.

I'm guessing we might see a Stanton DL trip sometime soon.  I'm surprised Wayne hasn't pulled the surprise injury report out on his ass yet.

I'm not saying he has; I'm not saying he hasn't.

Slyde, do you remember in the tenth grade when you did not yet have your driver's license and even if you would have had it your parents weren't gonna buy you that rusted-out Datsun pick-up for sale on the corner and even if they would have bought it your broke ass wouldn't have had any gas money for it after you quit your ticket-taking job at the cineplex so you could spend more Saturday afternoons with the geometry club?  And do you remember those three weeks at the end of the school year that you didn't have to ride the bus home because Jenny Ellison (lookin' like a ninteen year-old Tawny Kitean) would pick you up on her way home from her saving up for community college part-time job at the Lazarus cosmetics counter?  And do you remember how even though she had already graduated she thought you were kinda cute and kinda funny and she remembered you from the freshman algebra class that she had to re-take as a senior? And do you remember how she'd always find a reason to go by her house before she'd take you home?  Remember?  It was always like, "Slyde, I want ya to hear this one song on the new Def Leppard tape," or "I'm kinda bored at home since my sister moved out to California."  And do you remember how she got you high for like only your second or third time and a week later she had taught you how to roll a nice big tight fat joint with her dad's weed?  And do you remember how years later you would realize that for a single dad gettin' by on a long-haul trucker's paycheck, Mr. Ellison kept some pretty damn good weed around the house?  And do you remember that one particularly hot and humid Tuesday afternoon at Jenny's house when the little window AC unit was broken and her dad wouldn't be home from Cedar Rapids to fix it until like 2am or something?  And do you remember how you and Jenny were higher than shit and the only thing in the fridge were her dad's last two non-returnable glass bottles of Pepsi that you couldn't drink because he probably would want those more than he'd want his weed when he got home in the middle of the night?  And do you remember how you and Jenny stood there in the kitchen with the fridge door open looking at half a jar of Miracle Whip and her dad's Pepsis and without thinking you said, "Shit, we'd be cooler if we just sat here with the fridge door open," and Jenny giggled and said, "okay Slyde, I'll go get us some lawn chairs," and she went to the back porch and came back with one lawn chair?  Do you remember that, Slyde?  She came back with one lawn chair for the both of you?  One of those long click-click-click reclining lawn chairs and she opened the fridge door as wide as it would open and she click-click-click set the lawn chair up right there in the kitchen and you were thinking to yourself, "I'm higher than shit and I still need to study for that college level calculus placement exam," and Jenny said, "Slyde, if you're still hot you can take your shirt off."  And do you remember how you thought to yourself, "Oh God.  Do not fuck this up.  Do. Not.  Fuck this up."  Do you remember that, Slyde?

You do?

Yet here we are.

Slyde, I gave you Jenny Ellison and I gave you Eric Davis.  I gave you Jose Rijo at 3-0 with a 2.28 ERA in the 1990 post-season and I gave you a four-game sweep of LaRussa, Canseco and Maguire.  I  gave you Barry Larkin and I even gave you a lil' bit of Ron Gant. I gave you all this and now you're goin' Chris Hitchens on me because your poor poor small market club is givin' you bullpen losses you feel you don't "deserve."

Look Slyde, ya got two starters that most baseball fans in the rust belt would trade their last two cold Pepsis to see on the mound twice a week.  Ya got a likeable-if-not-lovable John C Reily lookalike slugger. Ya got some tasty Venezuelan D up the middle. And for Chrissakes, ya got Ken Griffey Friggin' Junior on your team.

Here's my point, Slyde..

Cool God can't do it all.  I can put a geeky but charming ninth grader next to an oversexed 5'9" senior co-ed every once in awhile and a year later I can put some killer weed in her dad's sock drawer.  I can put the last two Pepsis in the fridge and I can even put the "cooler if we just leave the fridge door open" thoughts in your fifteen year-old head.  But at some point it's up to you, pal.  Sometimes you've just gotta forget about that one really hard trig problem for a few moments. Sometimes you've just gotta get higher than shit and take your shirt off.

HA! Ha ha ha ha.   ha.

Cool God said to Alan man, "Kill me a son", Alan said "man, you must be puttin me on."
Cool God say "No." Alan say "Wha?" Cool God say "You can do what you want Alan but, a, Next time you see me coming you better run."
Alan say "Where you want this killing done?" Cool God say "Out on Highway 61."

Yeah, now I get it. I'd be pissed too.

At the last minute.

Homer Bailey said he had told all his friends and family that he would start Saturday. Then they told him it had been changed to Friday.  He had to call everyone in the middle of the night to tell them.