That Tumor is Outta Here!
So many things to discuss, so little time… so, in a tribute to legendary frontier gunman Buckshot Roberts, we’re going to attack these topics “scattershot” style:
First, from the “Why didn’t Arnold think of that” files, Braves right fielder Jeff Francoeur has pledged that he will donate $500 for every homer he hits to an organization called the “Tumornators.”
This, it goes without saying, is an organization that is attempting to raise money to fight a rare genetic disorder called Schwannomatosis (we may have eaten that at a restaurant one night in Germany), which results in noncancerous but extremely painful tumors that, according to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, “grow to the size of baseballs.”
Donating money is obviously a very generous gesture by Francoeur, but we have to admit that it has crossed our mind that if the tumors grow to the size of baseballs, perhaps Francoeur could just bludgeon them with a bat. That seems more like what a “Tumornator” would actually do. (Or perhaps a Tumornator would blast them with a shotgun.)
Okay, that’s insensitive (but you have to admit, a valid point).
Also, we’re currently investigating the veracity of rumors that Francoeur will up his donation to $25,000 every time he manages to see more than three pitches in an at-bat.
And it seems pretty clear that if there’s to be any promotional material whatsoever on this topic, it will have to include the famous line from Kindergarten Cop “It’s not a tooma!”, possibly followed by footage of Francoeur smashing a baseball-sized tumor with a mallet.
Okay, switching gears – did you hear about the botched apology by troubled (and by “troubled,” we mean “crazed”) Devil Rays outfielder Elijah Dukes made the other day?
In a moment of nervousness, Dukes apologized “to the organization for sticking with me in a situation like this.”
Even though this was a clear mistake, come to think of it, it kind of makes sense, in the vein of I’m so sorry that you (the organization) have chosen to stick with me. It’s really an unfortunate decision that you’re making, and probably will end up being a huge mistake.
In all honesty, reading about this actually made us empathize with Dukes just the tiniest bit. Yes, he has done some rather messed-up stuff in recent weeks, but the fact that he was nervous to the point that he misspoke so blatantly humanizes the man – even if just for a moment – who’s otherwise been made out to be a complete and total monster.
And speaking of questionable on-field tactics – were we speaking of questionable on-field tactics? – did you hear about the move A-Rod pulled last night against the Blue Jays? The man who immortalized the pathetic-looking attempt to dislodge the ball from the first baseman’s glove decided to pull another gem out of his back of tricks: The old yell out of “Mine” while running the bases so as to confuse infielders on a pop-up.
The Blue Jays, for their part, are absolutely furious, primarily because infielders Howie Clark and John McDonald were dumb enough to fall for one of the oldest and lamest tricks in the book. Rumor has it that A-Rod had been considering going with “Hey buddy, your shoelace is untied!” instead.
For the record, we don’t really condone what A-Rod did, but we also can’t really feel too much sympathy for the guys who actually fell for it. When you’re playing basketball and someone on the opposing team calls for a pass and you’re stupid enough to throw it to them, your immediate instinct should be “I can’t believe I did that,” followed directly by “I’m going to undercut that guy next time he drives to the basket.”
And now that your mind is flooded with thoughts of baseball-sized tumors being blasted into the upper deck, botched apologies by menacing center fielders and generally questionable baseball ethics, we leave you with a much more pleasant thought:Caron Butler recently got invited to some kid’s birthday party, and much to the surprise of everyone involved, he actually showed up. As jaded as we are about any good deeds in the world of sport nowadays, we approached this story with some skepticism, thinking that there must have been some sort of ulterior motive involved. And truth be told, as we realized that this was just a legitimate act of good tidings by an unusually cool famous dude, our slightly mischievous side had us hoping to read that Caron had at the very least announced his presence at the party by jumping out of the birthday cake arm in arm with a stripper as the kids screamed in glee.
But apparently he just showed up at the party, dropped off a gift, watched hoops with the kids for a little bit, and then left. Which makes it both a remarkable and altogether unspectacular story all at the same time.
The unfortunate thing is, as a reward for his good deed, Caron Butler will now clearly be invited to every dweeb on the Eastern Seaboard's fourteenth birthday until the end of time.