Bill Conlin is a grumpy old man. I could probably end this post right here and the three or four people who read this will agree. But I feel compelled to offer some evidence and - in true Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids fashion - we might even learn something along the way. So I offer Exhibit A from last week, which demonstrates that a stopped clock is still right twice a day and, apparently, Mr. Conlin thinks it's good to be the king.
When I'm King of the World . . .
I'm already annoyed.
Cole Hamels will run for Phillies player representative on the platform of a chicken in every pot and two chiropractors in every clubhouse . . . Now that the Phils have added Dr. Michael Weinik to the biggest medical staff this side of the lovable "Grey's Anatomy" gang at Seattle Grace Hospital, isn't it time for somebody to step forward and admit that Tom Gordon's right shoulder is cooked?
That's textbook writing there boys and girls. Toss a bone to the old folks and give a shout out to the young hip crowd and then get right your point. By the way, "chicken in every pot" is at least 70 years old. That's just inexcusable. But Mr. Conlin does take the Phillies to task with regard to last week's interim closer. So things could be looking up.
The 19-year veteran, whose lack of stuff and command was tragically exposed in a ninth-inning, Opening Day meltdown, has pitched the past two seasons with a torn labrum. I got this e-mail yesterday from an orthopedic doctor friend who used to pitch and understands the slippery slope Gordon is trying to climb: "Why would the Phillies continue to believe that an aging reliever with a known labral injury could stay healthy for any length of time without surgery? Bad shoulders do not get healthier with age and work without getting fixed."
The use of "stuff" and a friend's e-mail notwithstanding, this is a reasonable and rational argument. Perhaps this Conlin column will be informative, interesting and - dare I dream? - coherent.
Astros general manager Ed Wade must have felt right at home when Mitchell Report star Miguel Tejada was a dead duck at second trying to stretch a leadoff single with Houston trailing, 4-0. Gee, where has the Wadester seen that kind of baseball before?
I guess not. And I swear, while I do edit items like this for length, these two sentences are the only ones on this topic in the entire column. More insanity follows.
When I'm King of the World
Please stop.
The Bank sound system will greet Phillies relievers with a stirring excerpt from the spiritual classic, "Dry Bones."
This stirring excerpt:
Your hip bone connected to your back bone,
Your back bone connected to your shoulder bone,
Now hear the word of the Lord!
Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones
Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones
Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones
Now hear the word of the Lord!
Uh Mr. Conlin, are you feeling okay? Have you taken your medication? Maybe you should lie down. And how did we go from Ed Wade to the Phillies bullpen?
Hey, they have the sausage race in Milwaukee and the presidents race in Washington. Why not dress four contestants as an ulna, a labrum, an ACL and a rotator cuff?
Okay, so you sang the bone song because you're not done talking about Gordon and the bullpen. So why the detour through Houston? Wait. Forget I asked.
When I'm King of the World
Seriously, stop that. And apparently now we're done talking about Gordon and the bullpen.
After the Penn State trustees toss a butterfly net over Joe Paterno, the man who has been coaching since Mount Nittany was a hill will be the spokesman for Godfather's Pizza. Hey, can't a guy eat his lunch around here? You writers talkin' to me? No, then who you talkin' to? (Chomp, chomp.) Look, the day I have to worry about not having a contract, I'm in the wrong place. (Which is starting to become more and more obvious.)
Hello kettle? This is the pot. You're black. I guess it takes one grumpy old man to recognize another grumpy old man. But why is he talking about Joe Paterno in a baseball column? Why is that last sentence in parenthesis? And why cannot I not shake the mental image of Bill Conlin standing at the bow of the Titanic proclaiming, "I'm the King of the World!!!"?
Three excellent questions that may never be answered.
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