J.D. Drew’s Diary returns (retirement edition)
In honor of Adam Wainwright’s latest gem … a new dispatch from Hahira:
Sorry it’s been so long since my last column. That bruised knuckle took two years to heal, though it still ain’t right, especially when it’s cold outside. And winter’s coming.
But at least the ‘Noles are winning. Stephen’s real worried about missing the Clemson game because the Red Sox are still in the playoffs. Serves him right for signing that 1-year contract. Hold out for more, I told him, but Stephen’s always been bullheaded. Then he goes out and plays 124 games! Heck, he’s earned a vacation, but the player’s union told him the Red Sox could void his contract if he left early. The union sure has gotten weak since that nice Mr. Fear left.
The season’s way too long anyway. I played 81 games my last year and that was just about right. I might have kept playing but nobody would give me a multi-year contract — probably because I’m a Christian. I know exactly what Tim Tebow is going through. I thought about calling him but ol’ J.D. don’t consort with no Gators.
People ask me what I’ve been up to since I retired. Mostly just catching up on my rest. I make sure to get my 14 hours of sleep a day — 10 hours every night, a nap after breakfast and another before dinner. I’m trying to fit an extra hour in so I’ll be good and rested for hunting season.
Fortunately I was pretty good about saving my money but, like my agent Mr. Scott used to say, you can always get more. So brother Tim and I invested in some Cracker Barrels. Business has been good though we’ve been having some trouble at the Hinesville location with this uppity lesbian who says we can’t require our employees to donate 5 percent of their paychecks to the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Like I told her, I’m retired but I still give my 5 percent!
I used to do some personal appearances at them card shows, charging $50 for my signature and another $50 for a picture. But all that signing made my hands cramp up. I finally gave it up after getting a nasty paper cut.
I’ve been thinking about buying one of those hyperbolic chambers but it seems a little too New Age to me. One time when I was playing out in Hollyweird someone suggested I try yoga. I asked the Dodgers to pay for it but they refused. Blessing in disguise, it turns out, as I later discovered that yoga is a cult.
Well that’s all for now. The old carpal tunnels is acting up and it’s not like I’m getting paid for this.
Yours in Christ,