Rod and Mario, I have a bone to pick with you. Early on in Monday's game, the two of you were discussing how Toronto is being careful with young Brandon Morrow's arm, and you then went on to say that it's the same way the Tigers are careful with Justin Verlander's arm.
Luckily I didn't have a mouth full of, well, anything, because it all would have come spewing out after hearing a "star-spangled, triple decked, gold-plated lie" like that one. (And if you know where that quote is from without looking it up, I'd love to hear from you.)
I am sorry, but we all know that Verlander's arm is abused until it's about to fall off almost every game. He threw 127 pitches in six innings just last week for sobbing out loud. We should just be thanking Ty Cobb's lucky spikes that Verlander has durability as the main component in his body composition. He hasn't been on the DL in the bigs. He hasn't missed a start since his rookie season.
Let us be honest with ourselves ok? The Tigers were careful with Porcello's arm his rookie season. In his last outing (the one before yesterday's hail-delayed affair), he threw 120 pitches over seven innings. Not exactly kid gloves for Kid Rick. I don't mind a little homer in my announcers, but I want the truth, not this steaming pile of guano. I will say this, it didn't sound like they really even knew they were feeding us a line of nitrite-ridden meat by-product. Rod and Mario aren't calculating enough to cook up a lie like that and sell it like it's a tasty treat. I think they believed what they were saying! Who's been washing their brains?
I can't believe they didn't burst out into uproarious guffaws after hearing the words come out of their own mouths. "Just kidding folks, we know that our club famously abuses young arms. Just having a little fun with you there."
To be fair, Rod Allen did school me later in that game or in one of the games from the last couple days. During a Miguel Cabrera at-bat, the Puma fouled off a pitch. No big deal, routine stuff right? Not so fast, says Rod. He explained that he could tell that Miggy was looking for a specific pitch, got something totally different, and still put wood on it. He was quite impressed that his swing didn't look completely awkward and he broke the whole thing down in x-mo. Quite educational, and it's not something I would have picked up on.
Just don't let the organization put the Vulcan mind meld on you, 'k fellas? I mean, next time you might find yourselves telling us how Little Caesars pizza is the epitome of epicurean delight, coming to us straight from Tuscany.
Baseball. A tonic for all that ails. The perfect accompaniment to almost every activity. A day at the ballpark. It's not asking for much. I vow to get locked in for the night one day.
"You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball."