Crapula

I'm convinced that Jim Bowden is drunk all the time, on a non-stop bender since early November, which was the last time he did something sane. Since then, he's openly pursued a new job, signed the same player twice, and traded our best outfielder (with fixins) for one of baseball's most selfish, best-paid jackasses. Imagine sobering up from this mess; it's the GM equivalent of waking up with cottonmouth and a relentless headache, clutching a vomit-covered traffic cone, a receipt indicating that you put up your mother's house to make bail, and an ominously vague notice that the tests came back positive. Not that I'd know anything about any of that.

But Bodes hasn't sobered up yet.

The Washington Nationals were in discussions yesterday with an agent for former all-star slugger Sammy Sosa, talks that could culminate in a deal in which Sosa would try to rehabilitate his career in Washington after one of his worst seasons.

This only makes sense drunk. "Duuuuuude! Isn't that the guy that hit like, a hundred homers? He saved baseball! Sign him up, bro!" As anyone who watched the Orioles is well aware, Sosa is beyond useless. He can't hit anymore, he hasn't been able to field in years, and he spent last year dealing with a variety of really gross injuries and feuding with Miguel Tejada. Now, I'm not privy to what goes on in the Camden lockerroom, but I'll say it anyway: if you're feuding with Miguel Tejada, you're the dick.

Meanwhile, we've re-signed Marlon Byrd for one year and $800,00. Byrd is quite capable of the only thing Sosa can still do (hit lefties), but cheaper and better at everything else. He's a defensive asset and is less likely to get all pissy when he's asked to serve as the small half of an outfield platoon. But who could blame him if he gets pissy after he finds out he's lost his job to a washed-up, immobile, suspiciously-afflicted-with-acne-in-his-thirties, bat-corking malcontent?

I don't even care how much Sosa makes -- his mere presence is poison. He'll bring with him more media coverage than he deserves -- he is nearing 600 homers, after all -- play more than he should, suck, get benched, pout, start or join a clubhouse faction, and just generally make it even harder to root for this rag-tag bunch of jerkoffs.

The other day, I got the letter to renew my 20-game plan. I had already decided for a variety of reasons not to do it, but I was surprised at how good it felt to throw the damn thing away. I wish I'd waited until today.