Then there was a strange period of time...when Francisco was behaving, for lack of a better word, like a jerkwad. Well, not so much Francisco as his agent, Greg Genske, who threw hissy fit after hissy fit. Most of these whine fests followed the same trajectory:
Genske: "Let Francisco pitch!"
Twins: "But he's still hurt."
Genske: "Let him pitch right NOOOOOOOWWWWW!"
Twins: "He won't do very well, his arm is still hurt."
Genske: "If you don't let him pitch right now, I'll never love you ever again!"
Genske: "You suck, you stupid suckos!!"
Genske: "I'm going to hold my breath until you let him pitch!" [Deep breath]
Twins: "Don't do that..." [Genske's holds his breath, with his lower lip sticking out] "Greg...take a breath..." [Genske's lower lip sticks out further, his eyes water and his face goes red even more] "Greg, if you wait until he's healthy, Francisco will pitch better, and earn a bigger contract so you can get a bigger commission when he signs it."
[Genske gasps heavily expelling all his air and panting]
Genske: "For true?"
Twins: "For true..."
Genske: "Gimme money now!!!"
Genske: "You suck!!!" [Genske storms into his room to cry on his pillow and tell his Tiger Beat posters how mean Twins GM Bill Smith and Ron Gardenhire are]
Fortunately Francisco is not Greg Genske [he subscribes to Cosmo Girl and not Tiger Beat], so he's back, not pouting, not holding his breath and pitched very well until the walks in the third.
Unfortunately Francisco can't hit...but he does have Brendan Harris who, as my mother said, owed Francisco that big fat home run he just hit.
(Sadly, I'll have to got work before the game ends, so I'll leave my silliness here)