John Smoltz is not a Cryin' Ass Bitch

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(AP) "Ow ow ow wah wah wah etc."

It wasn't right that 18,000 Nats fans boo'ed John Smoltz off the field when he got hurt. So he threw a little tantrum. When we here at The Post get hurt, we too get all mad and start screaming and stomping our feet and crying like a debutante's ugly older sister when the open bar runs out of scotch.

All of us at RFK last night should have been thanking him, not booing loudly and inquiring as to the state of his vagina. He let Gooz hit that sweet triple. That was so kind. If he hadn't decided to allow Kearns to hit that double, Austin would never have had the chance to intentionally and brutally attack and leave him for dead. What a giver! Thank you, Mr. Smoltz.


Hey look, he dislocated his pinky, man. You only have two of those. That hurts enough to make any man throw a hissy fit on the diamond and tearfully accuse a guy of deliberately trying to give you The Pain. That's his littlest piggy - on his teacup hand.

John, we know you're reading this, and all of us at TNP want to apologize. You're not a hothouse flower. We never should have called you that. Hopefully you'll accept the Yankee Candle we sent to your dressing room. Lilac aromatherapy is supposed to be good for sore joints. Don't forget to open the card. It has a gift certificate for a full day of pampering at a spa. It's a token of our hope that we can heal this friendship which - like your booboo - has become disfigured and a tragic shade of purple.








~~~K. Provost~~~