But the season is still young, and a few poor April performances and early-season losses do not mean the end of the world. And yet...the lack of a certain special something led to sadness in my heart.
And there it was, suprisingly, distractingly, down the first base line in Cleveland. I could almost hear Grady Sizemore's brain working.
"Sex Bomb, Sex Bomb, I'm the Sex Bomb. All of Cleveland turns me on! [Sigh] Trailing 3-1 in the fifth, time to ruin the day of everyone in Twins Territory! I'll just bloop one into right and stun the crowd by stretching it into a double, steal third, use my ESP to make Dr. Cakeburn throw wildly, then run home!"
"Sex Bomb, Sex Bomb, I'm the Sex Bomb. All of Cleveland turns me on! There we go, looping into shallow right, Cassila's going after it, here I go rounding first, it bounced out of his glove and my plan has come to fru---GUGUGUH-WAAAAAAAAAA?!?!?!?!"
For Nick Puto was standing there, ball in glove, and the surprised, the distracted, the SUPRACTED Grady Sizemore was out. For it was always the plan to have Casilla miss the catch, and knock the ball to Morneau, who would, in turn, throw Sizemore out.
You Grady Sizemore have been supracted--so keep your Tom Jones record spinning and maybe give the sieburns a trim. Better luck next time.