Friday, December 29, 2006

I'm Riiiiiiiiiiiich, biiiiiiii-



There's a new Barry in San Francisco these days, and he doesn't have a gigantic 'roid-head, a propensity to piss off just about everyone he comes in contact with, or a federal agency trying to land him in jail. Nope. This Barry surfs, plays the guit-box, masturbates to Jack Johnson CDs, and beholds a nasty 12-to-6 curve. Welcome to the better, less ghetto half of the Bay Area, Mr. Zito.

As you admire the view from Pac-Bell .... uh, I mean, whatever this stadium is called these days, let me just slip this piece of paper into your back pocket. What is it, you ask? Oh, nothing. Just a little check for ONE-HUNDRED and TWENTY-SIX MILLION FUCKING DOLLARS.

Sure, owners and GM's have spent most of this offseason liquored up and engaged in one of their favorite holiday pastimes--throwing enormous sums of money and long, ill-conceived, guaranteed contracts to unproven, mediocre players (e.g. Gary Matthews, Jr., Gil Meche, Alfonso Soriano--not that he's unproven, but 8 years for this guy? Are you serious?)--but 7 guaranteed years for a pitcher? $126 mil for a #2 starter? I just don't get it. This has Mike Hampton written all over it.

I really wanted Zito on the Mets next year; I wanted him on the Mets for the next 4-5 years. But our resident savior, Omar Minaya, rightly displayed fiscal restraint and passed on giving Zito the 8th guaranteed year that would have been necessary to bring him to New York.

San Francisco baseball Giants, you can have your baked Zito and eat it, too (hey-oh!).

I have nothing more to say about this, for it has totally boggled the fuck out of my mind. But there's at least one guy out there who yanked it immediately after hearing about this signing: one Carlos Zambrano. The hot-headed Cub becomes a free-agent after the 2007 season, and since he's 3 years younger than Zito, a flame-throwing bona fide ace, he should be able to bank on a modest 12 year $270 million contract. Yes, please.

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Hey youse, have a great New Year. Catarina and I are off to tropical Chicago for a little of the Nochalotapus and a side of Umphrey's McGee. A full report will follow upon my return.

Peace, brosephs.

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