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Charlie Hatton
Watertown, MA
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I've been pretty good recently about not cross-whoringposting my missives from Bugs & Cranks over here. The way I figure it, if you're a baseball fan, you're already over there, because the collective writing is primo top-notch. And if you're a Braves fan, then the link to my area is on the sidebar for easy access, and maybe you're already reading it.
"If you're not a baseball fan, then nothing I could possibly write is going to make you give a flying badger turd about the career on-base percentage of Atlanta's backup second baseman."
If you're not a baseball fan, then nothing I could possibly write is going to make you give a flying badger turd about the career on-base percentage of Atlanta's backup second baseman. (For the record, it's .330, over a scant 101 at bats in limited action -- but now I'm just torturing you needlessly.)
The point is, I'm making an exception. My latest B&C post isn't about the Braves at all. Mostly, it's not even about baseball. It's about a shirt -- a really, really stupid shirt -- that ESPN sent me for winning a fantasy baseball league on their site. Or, in other words, for wasting my summer and fall knowing useless things like Martin Prado's career on-base percentage.
(Or rather, slightly less useless things, because if I spent any time during the fantasy season worrying about Martin Prado, then I surely wouldn't have earned the shirt in the first place. He's a nice guy, I'm sure, but not exactly the ore from which championships are forged.
Let's just say that if Prado's grandmama plays fantasy baseball, she ain't drafting him, either. Ouch.)
At any rate, if stupid shirts float your boat -- or oodles of sidelong Spinal Tap references, for that matter -- then please have a gander at:
The Answer Is None. None More Dork.
It's a lot more like the typical fodder here than anything baseball-related, I promise. I don't bother bringing up things like on-base percentage at all in the article, so you know it's entirely stat-free. But hopefully, it'll tide you over until I can carve out some time to get something meatier done here. Play ball, kids.
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I'll pay you one hundred dollars to wear that shirt to volleyball this week. Please.