You know, had we actually landed Todd Helton, his bat might have come in handy, and his moxie would certainly be a welcome addition to the team. But his massive, awe-inspiring beard would have been the real clincher.
Look at the photo above and tell me that having Helton’s beard and Youk’s beard at the corners wouldn’t vastly improve our game. I mean, history has shown that beards increase virility — the obvious exception being James Lipton — so we’d have that going for us. More significantly, having a couple of infielders who look like flesh-eating hillbillies would have given us an intimidation edge that we might have ridden to the World Series. All due respect to Mike Lowell, but if I’m rounding second and see him waiting at third base, the last thing I’m wondering is, “will this guy sucker punch me and drag me back to some cave where I’ll hang upside down with fifty pounds of jerky and some semi-conscious utility workers until the authorities can find me?” — which is exactly the sort of thing I’d be thinking as I ran toward Youk. That is, provided when I passed first base, Helton didn’t already cockpunch me and toss me in a burlap sack with three weasels (a favorite maneuver of the hillbilly).
Man, it would have been the best one-two beard combination since The Smith Brothers. And I regret every minute that it’s not happening.
Anyway, so we lose two of three to one of the worst teams in baseball. But check out some of the last names on these Rockies players: Tulowitzki, Torrealba, Spilborghs and Hawpe. Almost regal-sounding, no? Look, if Beckett has to see his win streak come crashing down in embers all around him, better it happen against guys with classy names like these, then, say, “Damon” or “Giambi.”
Meeting Barry Bonds for lunch today. Then it’s back here for the game. Stay fabulous.
