Saturday, April 08, 2006

One For The Hooker

When you were a kid, did you want to hang out with your favorite ballplayer? And if you got near his rarefied, pulsating aura, did you think about what you would do together?

Me? I just wanted to play ball with them. See if I could hit Steve Carlton’s devastating slider. Maybe strike out Mike Schmidt. Then adjourn to my Irish Mom’s kitchen where Greg Luzinski would have been teaching her how to serve kielbasa. Mom always liked “The Bull” best and she was a terrible cook. She would have loved his kielbasa.

So some disjointed thoughts crossed my mind today after today’s contest with the Dodgers was postponed due to a cold, drenching rain that has since subsided. Since my appointment with our heroes was rescheduled as part of a doubleheader tomorrow, that left a lot of time for the imagination to ponder today’s trivial question:

What would you do with a Phillie on an off day?

Easy. I’d take ‘em to find a hooker under the El. A real winner. The kind without teeth and body odor like a fish salesman. Skanky, crank-addled scum who could proffer our hero a $5 blow job. The Kensington Special. I’d hold his bulging wallet and keep my eye out for the vice squad.

Anything to get the team back on track.

I’d close our brief, special day together with some sage advice.

“Now wipe off your dick and enjoy the off day,” I’d advise. “Get in the fucking cab, go back to Jersey, and win at least one of those goddamn games tomorrow.”

You may not be Ronald Reagan, but win one for the Hooker.”

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