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Diary Of A Primadonna

  • The Frugal Play Bill

    So here we are on the cusp of another glorious season of baseball, sunshine and rampant bankruptcy. Even your old friend Primo here's had his economic ass handed to him; the endorsement contracts have dried up and the Crystal's been replaced with grandpappy's Moonshine. The Red Sox are trying to re-negotiate my 10 year contract, we can't afford fuel for the private jet, and my limo has two flat tires. Sign of the times, brothers, but you know me, I can't complain ...

    Seriously though, I'm hungry, hungry for baseball, and kudos go to this years captains. A great season starts with these guys, and their skills have resulted in a balanced set of teams that will surely lead to a fun and competitive season. My sources tell me draft day is about as peaceful and stress-free as charging the beach at Normandy, so these six captains are welcome on the yacht anytime ... as long as the bank doesn't snag it first.

    In case you live in the jungle and haven’t heard, the world's teetering on the brink of collapse and we'll all be in breadlines before long, so I’d like to propose a ‘Frugal Play’ bill for the 2009 season. Unfortunately the league was denied government bailout money so we’re gonna have to cut costs wherever possible, and the Frugal Play bill will form the foundation of a leaner, greener RHMRBL … and apparently leaner and greener is all the rage …

     

    Frugal Play 2009 ; A Good Buzz for Harsh Times

     

    1.      We all love dogs, their fun-loving nature, their easy disposition, their care-free attitude. They run on the field in the middle of play and we all have a good smile, haha, but times have changed. Even our canine friends must contribute, so I say lets put them to work! The Frugal Play bill proposes that mans best friends be trained to not only bring joy and happiness to those around them, but also fetch errant foul balls with a tenacity and diligence us humans could never achieve. Yes, those little white globes cost more than Fido’s Purina chow, so never mind the slobber and get fetchin’!!!

    2.      That weak liner you just hit, the one that stopped dead in the buzz-cut infield grass? It’s your fault. Ya missed the weak curve and now you’re trotting to first base, cursing the Louisville Slugger company and it’s ‘dead’ bat. Before you reach the dugout you’re planning your strategy, how you’ll hit google when you get home, credit card in hand, and drop $400 bucks on a brand new TPX with some’pop’. Well the Frugal Play bill proposes ya think twice about that, think about the wife when she sees the credit card bill, little Fido’s sad puppy eyes, and most of all, think about the children. Why not ... it's all the rage ...

    3.      Similar to item 2; that slow roller you missed while pretending to be Jeter? Don’t blame the glove. No matter how many times ya spit in it, punch it, adjust the webbing, you’re still not Jeter. So unless your last name is Levy, Cooper or Leitch, don’t blame the glove, and don’t buy a new one. Especially you pitchers, because no matter how much glove-porn you emass, ya still can’t field a bunt or catch a fly ball, so just move outta the way and let the REAL players have a chance to make a play and help you not look stupid. And yes, I’m talkin’ to you number 41 … I mean me … I mean ya get the point.

    4.      A few months ago I turned 30 and decided to drink like I was 18. Oh what a night; the tequila flowed, the vodka spilled, and I tried my best to turn back the clock through a constant flow of alcohol and unintelligible blubbering. I drank like a pirate that night, and the next day I ached like Randy Johnson’s back after two innings of work. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson but nooo, Primo had to push it, to try and try again, and you know what? I’m (almost) convinced I’m not 18 any more. So the final proposal of the Frugal Play bill is one that cuts to the very core of league tenents and could spark riots in the parking lot. It’s ugly, an abomination, downright sacrelidge, and it is this; don’t drink so much. Think about all the money we’d save, all the time we’d have without Stinky asking for our empties, all those little extras we’ll be able to afford, like Muskoka cottages and diamonds for our loved ones. And who knows, we just might feel a little younger.

     

    And that’s that my friends. Hope you’ve enjoyed this rant, but for now I must bid you farewell. Here’s to a fine season, a great way to blow off some steam with good friends and forget about all this 'economy' nonsense for a few hours a week. But now I gotta go for a drive, because this *** I know and his fancy Audi R8 want to spend some time together before the credit crunch puts him back behind the wheel of something more his speed Big Smile

    See you out there,

    Primo

  • Primo UOMO please...

    Master of Internet Ceremonies, Mr. Moncayo, was kind enough to save me the trouble of titling my first blog post. technically i would be considered a 'primo uomo', the male soprano of the opera, a detestible, egotistical and unreasonable member of the hallowed RHMRBL family, but lets not split hairs here...

    not sure how i got the handle of primadonna. its a mystery. maybe it was that time i demanded a private limo to playoff games. maybe it was the personal masseuse. the premium beer. the imported iced tea. the nasty attitude toward autograph hounds. run-ins with the coach (that berridge and his bloody equality, his jedi mind-tricks). my refusal to use capitol letters.

    its a mystery.

    anyway im gonna try my best to bring a special blend of irreverence and insight with these rants. ive never blogged before, but supposedly all the cool kids are doin' it so what the hell. if you feel my blog stinks, please let me know. just remember, as a primo uomo, i wont listen to your suggestions and will continue to write whatever i damn well feel like :-)

    so another season will soon be underway, another summer of laughs and gaffs and yankee dominance.  ya, im saying it right now; the evil empire looks poised to take another championship, casting a dark, wet cloud of doom above any field they set their devilish hoves on. even without jeter and a-rod and steinbrenner-power, this mini-dynasty of richmond green must be stopped. so please, lets all band together, use our collective mojo and wish the damn yankees a disasterous 2008 season. here here!

    speaking of being overpowered, id like to comment on the bats that have begun to creep into every dugout in the league. titanium-alloy, liquid-cooled, plasma-injected barrels that weigh 4 ounces are not bats; they are weapons. cannons. nuclear bloody missles. and you know where theyre pointed? at me, the tall guy standing 60 feet, 6 inches away. so in the name of truth and justice, i spent the cold winter months developing an exoskeletal brace for my right arm. its hydrolic actuators should bring the ole' heater into the 100-110mph range and turn me into a terrifying cyborg. yesyes, i realize this means that if one happens to make contact ill have a hole in my chest, but ill take my chances. any pitchers who want one, let me know, and we can fight the good fight together.

    seriously though, i love this damn league and the man-children that play in it, the heroes, villians, rookies, 'umps. its a fantastic testament to the power of sport when a diverse group of characters converge to display their affection for sticks and balls :-)

    but for now i must bid you farewell, as it seems my dirty greygoose martini with a twist of lemon rind is getting warm and the private RHMRBL jet should be landing any minuet now. cant wait to get back on the field and fight for that playoff spot! wait...everyone makes the playoffs...so what the hell are we fighting for??!!

    alas, theres always the playoff limo and no, i wont share it.

    its not in the contract :-)

    much love to all you bastards,

    JL

     



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