There are not really words when your favorite team signs your least favorite player.
He is old and injury-prone.
He wears his sobriety on his sleeve as a ready-made excuse to stay infantilized.
Using his blue eyes as an excuse for a slump.
Wife holds all his money.
Needs a permanent babysitter.
Slumps with swagger like no player in history.
Remember when he dropped the ball in the most critical game of the season? Jogging toward the dugout and did not even notice he was choking.
If a reserve utility infielder was sober, would the team celebrate with Ginger Ale in his honor?
In a world of cruddy tattoos, he is a major leaguer.
Josh Hamilton is an Angel. Rumor is $25 Million a year for 5 years, which is probably not terrible.
Aiming at marketing to the Crystal Meth Christians of the Inland Empire, Arte's billboard machine will be saturating the 909 with a new ferocity.
The next move may determine the destiny of the franchise.
It would make the most sense to move Mark Trumbo as his deep slumpability matches Hambone's and were the two to fade simultaneous it would death knell even the 1927 Yankees.
Trumbo and Peter Bourjos could certainly yield R.A. Dickey as well as the NL East for the Mets for the next three seasons.
For a sixth season, they could have signed Zack Greinke ...but pitchers only appear every fifth day. Hambone is an everyday player except when is injured which is ...well it probably won't add up to four out of five days but it could be close based on his excuse-making limp and slump routine.
If Mike Scioscia doesn't make the playoffs with this... uhhh... buh-bye.
This is about winning in 2013.