There was a longer post here about my life karma, currently in the green (good weather, full set of teeth, favourite Tar Heels returning), and how it's feeling perhaps affronted by the recent burst of serenity in my life. Being my life karma, it's decided to take reckless matters into its own hands and find new and improved ways to fuck me over this spring.
That post is gone now because it was stupid.
All I can say is, of course the Yankees' baby-faced Phil Hughes, twenty-year old pitching prospect extraordinaire, went down last night with a hamstring injury during his second major league start. Of course he did. After all, he's only pitched three AAA games. Such things are destined to happen! Oh, and he might miss a month! Well now! Shock of America!
During the NCAA playoffs dex. and I spent an unreasonable amount of time making deals between ourselves and fate, all in the name of basketball. We would cheer for teams we hated, or compliment coaches and players we'd rather see lying dead in the street, in an attempt to garner better karma for the Tar Heels. Ultimately, losing to Georgetown could not have been our fault; in March, I said more nice things about Billy Donavan than the total amount of time I talked to my family, and words cannot describe how difficult that was for me.
Would I trade one of the returning Tar Heels for a healthy starting rotation, or a bullpen that won't burn itself out over the next month? No, I wouldn't, and not just because dex. would kick my ass from here to Asheville. But if Bobby Frasor could throw ninety miles an hour and had a reasonable sense of control, I would strongly consider chloroforming his ass and driving him to New York myself, just to see how he could do. Seriously. I have a really spacious trunk.
That post is gone now because it was stupid.
All I can say is, of course the Yankees' baby-faced Phil Hughes, twenty-year old pitching prospect extraordinaire, went down last night with a hamstring injury during his second major league start. Of course he did. After all, he's only pitched three AAA games. Such things are destined to happen! Oh, and he might miss a month! Well now! Shock of America!
During the NCAA playoffs dex. and I spent an unreasonable amount of time making deals between ourselves and fate, all in the name of basketball. We would cheer for teams we hated, or compliment coaches and players we'd rather see lying dead in the street, in an attempt to garner better karma for the Tar Heels. Ultimately, losing to Georgetown could not have been our fault; in March, I said more nice things about Billy Donavan than the total amount of time I talked to my family, and words cannot describe how difficult that was for me.
Would I trade one of the returning Tar Heels for a healthy starting rotation, or a bullpen that won't burn itself out over the next month? No, I wouldn't, and not just because dex. would kick my ass from here to Asheville. But if Bobby Frasor could throw ninety miles an hour and had a reasonable sense of control, I would strongly consider chloroforming his ass and driving him to New York myself, just to see how he could do. Seriously. I have a really spacious trunk.
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