EDITOR'S NOTE: The author wrote this the morning after opening day (April 3). He has written nothing since, because momma always said to finish one blog before you start another. The author has pics of opening day. They are really nice. He was going to post them. That's why the blog is so late. He can't find his usb camera cable. That's a lie. The author just hasn't written because of the shock-induced coma.
So ... here it is; unfinished and buh-tugly.
EDITOR'S NOTE II: The author doesn't actually have an editor.
Did you ever get a $5 gift wrapped in $50 of packaging? Welcome to Opening Day at RFK. Ahhh opening day; The brass band. The unfurling of the giant American flag. The fireworks. And the triple-A team wrapped in major league uniforms. In honor of the religious holiday, the Promotions Commandos arranged for two fighter jets to "Pass Over" RFK. The pomp, however, was quickly followed by the circumstance. Super Turbo Ace John "Dead Arm" Patterson's pitches looked like clay pigeons catapulting in front of Dick Cheney. Even worse, Nook Logan wound up limping off the field looking like someone who just went hunting with Dick Cheney. Then Guz shredded some muscle tissue after swinging at the second pitch of his season. The vice president doesn't enter into Guzman's injury. Guzman just sucks. I once bought a used car and dumped a bunch of money into replacing the transmission and the windshield. I took it out for a ride in the country, and the u-joint dropped out. It was a 1973 Guzmabile. He missed most of 2006 because of surgery on his right shoulder. Then he had laser eye surgery (I was sorely disappointed that he did not use his new laser eyes to melt Dontrelle). So in his first at-bat of 2007, what's he do with his new eyes and bionic arm?
He sees the pitch badly and fails to put his shoulder into the swing - tapping it up the 3rd base line. Oh .. then he limps to 1st, because his u-joint dropped out.
EDITOR'S NOTE: The boys went on to lose the game. They looked like that guy who goes to the prom wearing one of those tuxedo t-shirts, only nobody laughs and he doesn't bring the weed he promised. The author fell into a coma and has typed not a word since "u-joint dropped out". He is starting to come-to now, asking for ice chips and screaming WHY every so often.