1. Friday, June 6, 2003

    my buddy welch and i had a nice mexican dinner tonight 

    i have the greatest friends.

    have i told you?

    we had the shrimp special at casita del campo. i had baileys, he had a marguerita, i think.

    we had been drinking, talking about baseball, nick cave, prauge, cuba, newspapers, blogging, and of course, miss universe.

    he was supposed to take me to the laundromat but i got lazy after we had our first beer and we watched tv – like i make everyone do – and then we ate.

    matt welch doesnt like conan o’brien. how can this be?

    over tortillas we agree that since the longest suspension for a corked bat was a week (only to be negotiated down to four days) by the pouty albert belle, sammy should have to be suspended for thirty games.

    my arguement was more than even that because sammy is on pace to be the home run king, and he’s not a young man any more. and if he were suspended for say most of the season and when he gets to be 41, 42 he finds himself 30-35 homers short of 755, everyone will know that the suspension in ’03 sparked by the corked bat stopped him from breaking the record.

    fine. its the most precious record in baseball.

    a sport that loves its records more than any other sport.

    not only should sammy get a long suspension, but he should instigate it, and while he’s serving his term he needs to go back to the dominican, set up a bench press in the center of town and work out on those dusty streets with the kids looking on and bench all morning.

    then he needs to run all around town until its lunch time.

    then he needs to eat grapes and melons and then go to the batting cage. the fucked up dominican batting cage.

    then he needs to run a little more. then he needs to go back to that town square and apologize to his people.

    it wouldnt hurt him if he cried some.

    and then he needs to say that he brought shame to his mother and that brings him his deepest shame.

    i dont ask you to forgive me, sammy should say in spanish, i only ask that you continue to pray for me.

    and then run a few more miles around the town. and then go home and sleep and do it all again the next day.

    and after thirty days or more of this sammy should come back to the cubs, my favorite team, leaner, meaner, refreshed, renewed, and ready to win a damn pennant.

    thats what sammy sosa needs to do to get this shit forgotten.

    and then we ate the plantains, finished off the beans and rice, and then we didnt gossip once about our friends.

    splink + jennyyeah + alecia