I imagine this is the face he made when Sweet Lou told him he'd be playing his games in the Oakland Coliseum
Today's trade was a big one - we never really had the ammo to land CC Flabathia, but I'm pretty happy we sent a big middle finger northward as best we could. I, Steve, and pretty much everyone else I've heard or read agrees that giving up Gallagher is no small sacrifice. He has great potential, and has come up big on more than one occasion - the sweep game against Arizona coming to mind first. Other than that, most everyone agrees that we didn't give up much. Not many people have heard of Josh Donaldson, and after Felix Pie, no one was jumping at the chance to watch a light-hitting outfield prospect develop. And I know I shouldn't be getting misty over a .250 hitter who sits behind a whole bunch of highly paid guys, but dammit, I'm going to miss the man we've come to know as Red Headed Aggression.
Murton defends the oft-referred to firecrotch
It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that he's come up big in the past during clutch situations or that his career batting average is .294 (!!!). It has to do with the fact that this particular pasty red-bearded blogger has few heroes in the sport of baseball that seem like they could have come from those supine suburbs of McHenry County where Steve and I grew up. Murton looks like a guy with whom we'd have enjoyed some parents liquor cabinet Jim Beam or warm can of High Life Light during one of those listless weekends. Hell, he looks like he'd even find himself on the losing end of a dodgeball given the chance. In an era where a large-headed monster has surpassed all of our beloved legends - not metaphorically, I literally mean Barry Bonds - it was nice to have a regular-looking guy doing his part for my beloved team. It made me feel just that little bit closer to the team. You might argue Ryan Dempster could fulfill that role now, but for the love of God, he's Canadian. That's not going to happen.
Emily reacts to the news on WGN. I'd have found this touching, but we were going 35 in a neighborhood.
My girlfriend Emily, like many of the ladies of Wrigleyville, has taken the news especially hard. Apparently, ladies love this particular bleach-white read-headed guy - which is only going to give false hope to an entire generation of Chicago-area ginger nuts. Dan Harden may indeed put this solid club over the top, and the Cubbies may have snagged a deal and a half, but none of that matters to the ladies of Wrigleyville, mascara streaks running roughshod over their self-applied Cubs cheek paint logo. Even Emily, who knows damn well that our beloved firecrotch was buried in a deep outfield, can't separate emotion from stat. Her words: "He was the only thing holding this relationship together." And as for me, I can honestly say I'm going to miss seeing him around.
Long may you run ... kinda slowly (Image "borrowed" from Woolis.com - hope he doesn't mind)
Slán go fóill, buddy. You'll never be a Red Headed Stranger around the Friendly Confines.
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