You guys are probably going to be suspicious of this, but I’ve noticed a very strange trend. And I don’t lie on my blog. (Usually. There was that one time… but never mind.) Anyway, just as Buster Posey gets smashed in the throat and promptly loses his voice, I get all croaky. Seriously. It’s not the first time, either. I had sympathetic ankle pain when, y’know, That Thing We’re Not Going to Talk About happened.
Twinsies! Except in a not-so-good way. Let’s all hope Buster, and by extension I, stay all well and healthy, m’kay? Marco Scutaro, too. How is he supposed to ride Hunter Pence’s scooter when he’s coughing and sneezing up a storm? We have the playoffs to look forward too, people. Have some Italian sodas and rest up, for Pete’s sake, Giants.
The game is starting anyminuteanyminute now, so I’ll catch you all later. And when we’re all not sick.