As I finalize my Proustian tome on the Hoosier Daddies’ reserve roster, I must begrudingly comment on the F-Brat Stops’ uninspired reserve roster. But first, an aside:
I know you have heard a bit about my exploits (emphasis on “x,” my lads) in Arizona at that baseball “fantasy” “convention,” but allow me another tale: As you would expect, I represent, counsel and advise a major international hotel/resort consortium. Check this out: Sent last week to the Dominican Republic on a recruiting effort I was able through my high level connections to obtain a pass to Sammy Sosa’s birthday bash. Although Sosa’s chest has downsized a bit, thank god Salma Hayek’s hasn’t. Anyway, I did enjoy myself a few moments before being escorted to another property on the island.
Now back to the Brats’ roster: I see no plot, no theme, no tension, no feeling. I like –and I cannot cite any stronger emotion–Victor Martinez at 15, Ervin Santana at 2, and Gathright (I suppose) at 5. But Gomes at 2? A Hill at 11? Adams at 5? Fluff my pillows, please. I’m exhausted trying to find something that compels me to read through this roster…on the Minor League Front, it’s a quick retreat with Lubanski (2) and Hammel (5) . Blocker has nothing to fear, but I do: I’m afraid there are not enough words in my vocabulary to describe to each of you the brilliance of the Hooiser Daddies’ reserve roster. But I will find a way, I promise, perhaps in a trilogy on par with The Golden Compass or those Saw movies. You’ll see.