by Andy Paschen
To quoth one of my favorite writers of all-time, me, I wrote this on April 9th about Milton Bradley.
Watching him go 0-4 is like watching someone poke a hibernating bear with a needle full of meth: either nothing is going to happen, or that bear is going to go fucking crazy.
Lo and behold, thanks to an awful call by some bum umpire on a 3-2 pitch with the bases chalk full of Baby Bears — Milton “The Meth Bear” Bradley awoke from his peaceful slumber yesterday. And he was pissed (and on Meth). Remember children, if an angry bear is chasing you with a syringe full of meth coursing through his veins, make sure you can run faster than your slowest friend. I know, I know, Peter Hofflebauer is one of your best friends (some might say he was the Charizard to your MewTwo), but it’s not your fault he has Osgood Slaughter Disease and can’t run for shit.
Now there is a possibility Bradley could receive a suspension, because he crossed swords with the umpire (the brims of their caps touched). But the Meth Bear scoffs at the idea of a suspension — that ball was clearly ball four! If a suspension is handed down from Bud “Five dollar, five dollar, five dollar haircut” Selig or whoever makes those decisions, expect an appeal from the Cubs.
That, or the grisly mauling of Peter Hofflebauer. Because that’s how the Meth Bear rolls.