Oh, it's okay. My husband knows about it. In fact, he's done nothing but encourage this whole sordid affair. It's kind of endearing.
I'm in love with contract year Pat Burrell. Oh, sure, I make jokes about his funny syphilis and his deeply questionable fashion sense, but the man is hitting like his ass is on fire. (Normally, I would say that his ass was on fire because of the clap, but this is a kinder, gentler Maggie talking.)
He's ranked second in the NL in home runs. (Behind only My Boyfriend Chase Utley, mind you.) He's ranked second in the NL in RBI, third in slugging percentage (an eye-popping .670), and fourth in both OBP and OPS. It's not just the hitting, either. He's working counts like it's his job- 24 BBs so far, and we're barely into May.
The hitting? Has been clutch, too. In other years, seeing him stroll up to the plate with two outs on the board in a tie game would have been met with the gnashing of teeth and the rending of various garments, as he would have inevitably struck out and launched us into extra innings. Not Contract Year Pat Burrell. Contract Year Pat Burrell worked the count full, and then turned and launched one into the stratosphere. Game over, Phils win, everybody goes home happy.
The whole season has been full of moments like that- big hits just when the team needed them, diving catches to get the team out of innings. Hell, the fact that he's actually hustling for the ball once in a while is a major improvement.
Which only makes me sad when I think about it too much. He's having an amazing year (and put together a solid season last year, mind you, putting the team on his back when Utley was out with a broken wrist and soldiering through) and is set to make a lot of money when his contract with the Phils expeires at the end of the season. And, let's face it, he's not making that money with the Phillies.
My husband keeps musing aloud that he wonders if the Yankees would sign Burrell. I've taken to just glaring at him and muttering darkly under my breath every time he does.
Pat's said that he wants to stay in Philadelphia when he's done. This has to be a total lie, as the poor man has taken absolute rafts of shit from the Boo Birds in the outfield.(Occasionally, I've booed him from my seat in center, but that's usually because he's been too busy staring at the ball girl to, you know, field.) I'd love to keep him around, if only because his manwhorishness makes me laugh. I'm not, however, holding my breath. He's going to make the single female population of another city very, very happy next year.
Ladies: Take care of him, and take care of his fine, fine ass. (What? I can't ogle? Bullshit. He does it all the time.)
3 comments:
I would say that ALL of his nether-region is on fire, tbh.
Well, yes, but I didn't really want to discuss the rest of his nether region, since I think even doing THAT causes STDs.
Burrell and Shockey need to have a Manwhore of the Millenium contest.
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