Wednesday, September 15, 2010

September 14 2010 PHI v FLA Game 2. Cole Hamels. The Man. The Myth. The Man

So I'm sitting in Marathon Grill at 16th and Chestnut this morning with a coffee and plate of mule barf when Cole Hamels walks in....

Me: Yo Cole, what the fuck is up, brother?

Cole: K

Me: Huh?

Cole: K!

Me: K what? Are you fucking high?

Cole: ..........K,K,K

Me: Dude, that's fucking racist.

Cole: (shakes head) KKKK!

Me: Why the fuck are you speaking to me in text message, dickhead? I was just gonna say nice game last night. What did you strike out 13 of those marlin pricks? That's a season high right?

Cole: K!!!!

Me: You're annoying...

Cole: (to hostess) KK?

Hostess: Excuse me?

Cole: Fuck you all, I'm going to Buffalo Exchange....

Me: But they don't even sell foodstuffs....

What a weird morning.......

I'm serious when I say this in a totally objective light. Would you look at the dick on Cole Hamels? Really, take a good look at it? It's enormous. What the fuck happened to him over the course of this season? Where did all this fire come from? Who is my real father?

Hamels leaves one big-dickin' season high behind and in the blink of an eye reaches another statistical zenith. He dusts his 25 innings of scoreless pitching then throws 13 K in one game into Santa's happy satchel of sex toys and all the while walks us through a 2-1 battle over the fish. It's just that kind of year. Last year around this time, Cole was getting a pedicure in the dugout and feeding his chiuaua his tears in return for allowing Cole to rest his thumb inside his ass. 

Now the fucking sword is drawn. He will not let childish petulance or Comcast ads or Brett Myers retarded goatee stand in his way of pure and total conquest of the weak enemy. He is primed for post-season battle and fluffed for serious action. Now, I will never ever make rampant foregone conclusions so I assume nothing. IF we make it to the post-season this motherfucker will be glue instead of the semen, the cure not the herpes, the MAN and not bitch. We've all watched him grow and I'm as proud of him as anything I haven't done in my whole life.

Fuck new york and let the rhythm take control. Sweat!

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to ask. Hey Busey, how many games are we up on atlanta now after Livan Hernandez fucking stymied those 'necks?

Any chance I get to use that clip I will.