Last night, I remembered why I hated myself during the draft. I drafted Joe Borowski. I said as much this morning to my compatriots.
“next time borowski blows a huge save, whoever is closest to me travels to my home and beats me to death with a shovel.”
Just now, Erik Bedard gave up a long fly ball to my beloved Carl Crawford. Jones. And then he gave up a homerun to Carlos Pena. Great. I’m going to murder myself.
I Truly Have No Life 