Duane says, “Welcome back, Danny Uggs!”

And welcome back to me, I guess. I won’t bore y’all with the whole story, but let’s just say I got fired from the Starship Satellite location up in White County. Yeah, I was north side for a while. My pansy ass boss thought me taking a few nitrous cartridges for myself was somehow a big honking deal. So he let me go. I said fine, you little bitch, it ain’t like I ain’t been fired before.

Which is true. Anyhow, it’s not completely true that it’s fine, though. I’m back living in my buddy Hal Phellis’ spare room. Hal’s got a HD flat screen with a awesome cable package. So that part’s good. But Brenda’s there, too, because she and Hal got married. She’s, um, not pleased that I’m bunking over and says I got to be out by the end of the month. We’ll see.

Anyhoo….on to better things. My boy Uggla’s back! Danny was 2-for-2 today. He’s establishing attitude and will to win early. Shows what a man can do when he’s playing for his job. On the other side of things, I’m afraid Mr. Freddie Freeloader’s big new contract might be going to his head. Did anybody besides me notice he’s batting zero point zero since his big extension? Hah, hah. big extension.

I hope Fredi’s on Freddie’s ass hard after that pitiful showing today. At least our other Freddy, Garcia, was strong today. Two perfect innings. I don’t know why you take out a guy with a perfect game, but, hell, I’m old school.

Later, fellas. I’ll try to check in more often now that I got some time on my hands.

@BlackLarryKing’s Spring Training Things


For more inane musings, follow @BlackLarryKing on Twitter

  • If time begins on Opening Day, where does it spend the offseason? They should tell you this stuff! …
  • He may have been nicknamed “The Cobra,” but the great  Dave Parker tells me he’s deathly afraid of snakes …
  • If there’s a better broadcaster than John Sterling, I haven’t heard him …
  • Do kids still eat Cracker Jacks? …
  • Taking walks is for wimps. The great Jim Rice told me that and I never forgot it! …
  • My sources tell me Sparky Anderson would love to manage again …
  • What’s with these new statistics? I’m still trying to figure out ERA! …
  • My 2 cents: The game misses Marge Schott …
  • Why three strikes and you’re out? Why not 2, or 4? …
  • What’s with these skyrocketing salaries? In my day players got minimum wage and fought in wars in the offseason …
  • Trust me, gang, Tony LaRussa’s pasta sauce is terrific! …
  • Is there a more beloved owner than Jeffrey Loria? …
  • Why do they call Ozzie Smith the Wizard? …
  • I miss the Rally Monkey …
  • Sad to hear Fay Vincent is retiring. He’s been a fantastic commissioner! …
  • The Uptons are the most talented brother duo since Ellis and Bobby Valentine …
  • Watch out for the Expos this year!

Duane is in crisis

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Where in the hell do I start?

OK. The Braves took a jackhammer to my heart and soul again. And I’m so confused and hurt and angry. I’m angry at Frede and the team, and I think I’m even angrier at the media and other people who are angry and downing my Braves. Because, dammit, they’re my…our….Bravos. And by God, I love ‘em as much as ever. Then again, I’m in a — what do you call it? — a confoundrum. They not only ruined my week, month, hell maybe my year, but they also got me fired from my job at the adult superstore off I-75 near Griffin.

One day at a time

One day at a time

Which leads into a whole nother but related story. Hells bells. Might as well explain. I reckon it all ties together in one way or another, like a big web of intreegism.

Aight. a few months ago I got a job stocking DVDs on the shelves at the store. (I get to take home one disc a week free, a nice french benefit.) Well, I was scheduled to work last Sunday night and there wasn’t no way in hell I was missing that ballgame. My cable got cut off, so I called in sick and went to Hooters to watch. My shitstain of a shift manager happened to be in there, and he just had to go tell the store manager about it, who just had to call me into his office on Monday and tell me the Lions Den no longer needed nor desired my services, or some corporate double talk like that. I told him he couldn’t fire Duane cause by God I quit.

I made the last part up. Really, he told me they didn’t want me, and I sat down and cried and begged for my job because I told him I had child support to pay — which, between us, ain’t really true. Long story short, he told me to get out of his sight and called the bouncers and they way too roughly in my opinion throwed me out into the parking lot. I remember the sun really hurt my eyes because the inside of that place is pretty dark.

Anyways, I been living in the basement apartment, a really small one, more like a closet with a shower and a microwave really, and it’s in the basement of a house owned by this guy who’s been dating Brenda. Yeah. Weird, I know. Believe me, I wanted to hate this guy, Julius Rolack, but dammit he’s about as nice a fellow as you could ever meet. He even told me I could go without paying rent for the next month since I lost my job. And that’s even after I told him the truth about how I lost it.

Cause see, another reason Julius is so dam hard to hate, the sumbitch, is that he’s as much of a Braves fan as I am! And that boy never gives up hope. He even paid for me to go to a game with him and Brenda. Brenda didn’t know about it till I showed up at their seats. She wasn’t all that happy about it, but Julius, he just said something like, “Hey, we’re all friends and Braves fans here, let’s have a good time and cheer on our boys! Go Braves!”

Like I said, he’s really upbeat. I needed that these last few days. He told me, he said, “Duane, you can stay in the apartment as long as you like rent free, or at least for a month or two.” And I said, thank you, Julius. (I started to call him Dr. J but changed my mind.) He just said could I mow his grass and clean out his garage, so I said I guess I could seeing as how I ain’t paying rent no more.

Anyhow, once we got our real estate transaction squared away, I said, Julian, you think Frede shoulda brought in Kimbrel? And he says something like, “well, D — he calls me D — I think Frede did what he thought was right. He was trying to win, and Carp was trying his best and it just didn’t work out. But we’ll get em next year.” Dam if that didn’t bring tears to my eyes. We hugged right then and there. But that broke up when I whispered something in his ear about maybe us having a threesome with Brenda. Shit, ole Julius didn’t even really hold that against me. He just said, “well, D, now, I really don’t think that’s such a good idea,” and then we just moved on pretty much.

To break that tension, I said, well what we gonna do about Uggla and BJ? And Julius repled like, “Oh. They gonna be fine. They worked so hard, and they’ll come to spring training rarin to go and they’ll have great years and we gonna win it all next year! We’ll show em!” See, Julius really does talk like with an explanation point, if that makes sense.

Well, I’m finishing my lunch and beer break. Plus, I snuck out a couplea DVDs from the store. Hah. Hah. Now I gotta finish cleaning out Julius’s garage. Ya’ll take care, and go Braves!

Duane checks in

Fingers crossed!

Fingers crossed!

I see where Mr. Frank Spin, um I mean Wren, is telling Mark Bradford from the local outlet that everything is just fine. Might be the best team he’s put together. One question for Mr. Spin. Has he watched the first two ballgames? Yo, Frank. We’re 0-2, big man. Made a shitpot of errors yesterday that would make a tee-ball team look good.

I know. I can hear you guys now. “Duane, it’s spring training. Means nothing.”

That’s loser thinking. In opposed to that, here’s Duane thinking: Send a message. Make a statement. Get after their asses. NOW. This year it’s more important than ever. Chipper’s gone. It’s a new day. So far that day feels like a rainy, crappy Monday.

Sure there’s time to turn things around. But winners implement a mindtality right away. So Fredi needs to play his starters and win. I ain’t ready to say today is a must win, but it’s time to get off the goose egg.

Speaking of winning, some of you might be interested to know that your favorite Forest Parker — that’d be me — is turning things around. I joined a church down near Eagle’s Landing and Pastor Luke there is really inspirating me. He says anything’s possible in life or in the weight room with JC on your side. Brenda’s even thinking about giving me another chance. Keep your fingers crossed and pray for ole DFFP.

Go Braves!

A chat with former Brave Lonnie Smith

World Net Daily recently published a fawning piece on the persecuted ex-Brave John Rocker. In the article, the former closer shares his views on subjects such as immigration reform, the national debt and the general direction of the country.

We also learn that Rocker was banished from baseball because that Sports Illustrated writer tricked him into ranting about blacks, Asians, Asian women

A hell of a ball player

drivers, gay people, New Yorkers, young single moms, and assorted others who make the world less pleasant for John Rocker. His 6 ERA, and 6 walks per 9 IP over his last three big league seasons — not to mention his 6.50 ERA and 2.50 WHIP with the Long Island Ducks — aparently had little to do with his exit from the game.

Anyway, we thought we’d discuss the state of the world with another eccentric ex-Brave.

Rowland’s Office: Lonnie, thanks for your time.

Lonnie: Yeah. I don’t talk to many white folks.

RO: Rowland is actually black. But I’m not him.

Lonnie: Rowland who?

RO: OK. Let’s get right to it.

Lonnie: Right to what?

RO: What do you think is the biggest issue in the next presidential election? And a related question, should the National League adopt the DH, or should MLB kill it outright? 

Lonnie: Yeah, I thought about killing that mother fucker with the suspenders. Election? I think income inequality and some other fundamental questions about our nation’s economy are critical to the future. The DH? Three-time World Series Champion Lonnie Smith loves to hit. 

RO: What about the future of capitalism?

Lonnie: Well, we need to have a substantive debate about what kind of capitalism we want, you know? Managerial capitalism, or entrepreneurial capitalism, or worker capitalism, or some hybrid of all types. I do think we are in danger of further separating the country into long-term haves and have-nots. When people feel like they’ve fallen out of the system, and feel that the system doesn’t give them a fair shake, while they see Wall Street types making millions a year and getting bailed out by the Congress, it creates some dangerous feelings of disaffection and disconnectedness. People feel like the system is stacked against them. They withdraw and don’t participate. That’s bad
for democracy and the civic life of the nation and of our communities. 

RO: Wow.

Lonnie: Fuck, yeah. And I’m not sure big corporations and wealthy individuals should be able to bankroll elections. That’s not good for participatory democracy either. I fear that we have parties in this country that are quietly undermining our public institutions, at all levels, in the name of the free market. That is not good.

RO: Lonnie, what have you been doing lately?

Lonnie: None of your goddamn business.

RO: Lonnie, thanks again for your time. It’s been fascinating.

Lonnie: Get the hell off my porch.

Big win today

Yeah, I know. I can hear all y’all smart fellas now. “Come on, now, Duane, it’s just spring training. They ain’t even really trying to win. The capital of Iran and Of the Cat are just kids. Couple of bad innings. Wind was blowing out. Blah. blah, freakin blah.” Any of y’all ever strapped it up and got after somebody?

For old time's sake, one last time.

Lemme give you little pussy boys a clue. It’s called competition. It’s called attitude. It’s called wantin it. And it starts on day mother fucking one. That’s right. You establish attitude and focustude — I like that — right from the start. But our wily manager looks to be picking up right where he left off. So when Teheran and Delgado are working at some restaurant on Buford Highway in July, don’t come crying to ole Duane.

This is trouble. Or could be. Maybe today was what this team needed to get things turned around. Finally scored some runs. Got a victorry. That’s what it’s all about winning. Learning to win. Like Guy Lombardo said, if winning ain’t everything, it’s damn sure close. Or something like that.

Anyhow. Today’s win makes me feel a little better. Cept for, by the way, it’s all over with Brenda. I’m gonna try to get alimony from her. I’m meeting tomorrow with a lawyer from that outfit that advertises on sports radio, says they represent men in “complex allegations” and talk about how your wife comes in one day and out of the blue says she don’t love you no more. That aint’ exactly what happened, but we’ll see how it turns out.

If you’re wondering, no I ain’t voting tomorrow. I don’t like any of them sunsabitches. I got a part-time job with the city of Jonesboro, so I’m all for big government, homes. I want my job to get bigger, not smaller. Peace out and go Braves!


Duane checks in, and it ain’t a happy new year

Fellas, I’m writing with a heavy heart. And I ain’t talking about Frank Wren trying to trade away Marty Prado and JJ Jurgens for some dadgum modern-day Mike Lum. Naw. Some of you might know I was still hoping to patch things up with Brenda. (I still love ya, baby!)

I ain't smiling now

Looks like it ain’t gonna happen, sad to say. Here’s the ugly details. So after a lot of letters and phone calls — and yeah, I cried a bunch of times — Brenda agreed to go to dinner with me. I wanted to take her out on New Year’s Eve, but I settled for a Wednesday night in the middle of December. I had to take what I could get, yo. 

Anyways, I was splurging, gonna show her a first-class night out. Saved up my money and we headed to the Quincy’s on Jonesboro Road, only to get there and see it’s turned into something called the Playas Gentlemen’s Club. I’s pretty disappointed, but figured we might as well go in ’cause a guy outside told us they served steak, and that ladies got in free.

Dudes, one too many bare black asses shaking around sent Brenda over the top. She bolted out of that place like a, hell, like a vegan at Quincy’s megabar (if only). I caught up to her in the parking lot and she hit me with the num chucks she carries in her purse. I fell into a mud puddle and she stomped off talking on her cell phone, asking that damn new boyfriend of hers Wesley Lee to come pick her up.

So that’s where I’m at as we ring in 2012. Here I thought this year would be the best of my life. I won a pass on the radio to go hear Donald Trump, Rudy Guiliani, and Sarah Palin and Colin Powell and Tony Robbins speak up in Atlanta, and they got me all fired up and I bought Tony’s DVD and everything. Damn if it’s done shit for me so far. City of College Park — yeah, I moved back near home from Lagrange — cut my hours. Brenda’s gone. Won’t return my calls or texts, unless you count a picture she sent me of her and Wesley Lee kissing and him groping her ass.

It’s painful.

Speaking of, this offseason for our Braves ain’t making me feel any better. Why’s Frank Wren are you going to get some damn money out of Liberty Media hell bent on trading Marty P? Best player we got. Hell, why don’t he really cut the budget and give away McCann, Huddy and Uggla while he’s at it. Then I could cover the damn payroll. (I wish.)

Anyhow. The lights are growing dim. The walls are closing in. I need some reason to hope. And Rick Santorum ain’t it. Fuck him.

Future Braves promotions

1. Bill Campbell/Munson Steed Olympic Street Vending Night. Remember during the 1996 Games, when our disgraced former mayor gave his pal a sweetheart deal to turn downtown into a giant flea market just in time for the whole world to see it? I loved the Olympics overall. It was a hell of a lot of fun. But that street vending business was shameful. For this night, fans bearing their own airbrush T-shirt stand or wearing prison garb get in free.  

2. Wayne Williams night. Not sure what else to say here that wouldn’t be over the line even for us.

3. Lester Maddox night. Come celebrate that lovable segregationist who rode a bicycle backward across the Capitol lawn.

Carver and friends on Springer.

4. Sam Venable/Daniel Carver/Klan night. Venable used to own Stone Mountain and allowed the Ku Kluxers to gather there for years. Daniel Carver was – still is? — a Klan honcho from Gainesville who made several appearances as himself on Howard Stern’s Howiewood Squares. Come in robe and pointy hat and …ah on to the next one.

5. Stupid civic slogan night. Every day is an opening day was only the latest. I can’t seem to find any others right off hand, but there have been other lame marketing ditties by our town’s ever eager boosters.

6. Real estate developers almost always get their way night. Bring a mini wrecking ball and get in for half price, and destroy something old while you’re at it.     

7. Wear another team’s hat night. Combine this one with “Kick the shit out of fans wearing Boston caps night” and it could be a lot of fun.

8. Escaped Emory monkey night.

9. Pothole Posse night.

10. Smog and traffic night.

Bring some more.

You won’t have me to kick around anymore

Hey, y’alls. It’s Hal. Why no exclamation sensation at the end of that sentence?

Have a nice life

 Well, I have some sad news. For me, anyhow. Be that as it may — I loves that expression:) – I’m going to stay positive! Like I always do:)

But might as well get to it, here, and get this over with. I may not be that Jeopardy computer or a major brainiac or something, but you don’t have to beat me over my bald head!! I got a sense from my first — and I’m announcing right now, my last – post that some of you guys do not really cotton to my take on things.;( Which is too bad, but that’s OK!! Go Braves, anyway, and I hope you guys have a great fun spring and summer. Maybe I’ll see some of y’all out at the Ted! I’ll be the smiling guy with the tuxedo bib on:)) LOL! 

By the way, I think on Opening Night I might get to hang out with Jeff Dawler — you know, the guy who does those entertaining between-innings games with fans (fingers crossed.) He has Chaaaarisma like it’s Charistmas!! I think they replaced him last year,but I heard Jeff will be back in 2011!!:)) SMILES WAY UP! I’ve been emailing him at the radio station. No word back yet, but a boy can dream!!

So any ole ways, Dave, Rankin Rob, Sharon — nice to see a lady baseball fan up in here — and the rest of y’all, I am sorry you all don’t like me. Sniffle. Frownie frown.:(((  (JKY — just kidding y’all.) About the sniff. I mean, I am a little sad. I won’t lie. I really thought this would be a great outlet for me, a way to meet some people and maybe enjoy a game or two with some new friends. But that’s not going to happen, it looks like. And that’s OK, as my IDOL — hells yeah!! — Stewart Smalley said. I’m good enough and at least some people, including me myself and I, like me.

GBWTWS!! Peace out, peepses!!

Who am I kidding?!? I hate every last one of you mean buttfaces, and I hope you all have a rotten weekend. I don’t want you to die, or anything like that. I hope your cable goes out and you don’t get to watch Kathy Griffin. Hah!

Hal Phellis, out.

It’s that time again!!

Now, be nice!!!

Hey, fellas, and gals. Is there a form of fella to apply to the ladies? I really don’t know.

My name is Hal Phellis. I’m new to this webloggin’ thing, so you guys bear with me, OK?:) First thing you need to know about me is I love my Bravos!!!! (PS I always say Bravos because it’s fun!) I also like exclamation points and smiley things!!:) I’m a positive guy. And that’s how I think about the Bravos. (I’m looking at you, Brooksie Conrad! Come back better than ever!!!!! Your defense will be great this year. Just great! And you, Nate McLouth, with that cute long blond hair. HELLLO!!!! Nate’s gonna be great this year. Best center fielder we’ve had since Andruw. Who I heard is with the Yankees :( Oh, well. I’m sure he’ll do just fine.

Here goes my first article for those two fellas who operate the Office. What a great name!! They’re not always so happy and positive, though, to be honest with you. ;( Even though they don’t seem to much care for my pals — kidding. I wish!!! — Chip Caray and Bob Rathbun, they’re not really so bad.

Welcome to Spring Training 2011!! Is it really 2011 already? Can you believe it’s March????!! I’m still writing 2009 on my checks. DORKUS!

How time flies. And what a difference a year makes. Last year, we were all giddy about the J-Hey Kid. Look out, car, here comes a baseball!!!! This year it’s his buddy Freddie Freeman. Isn’t it great that they have a nice interracial friendship? I think it’s just great. And Freddie — how funny is it that our first baseman and manager have the same name, but spell it differently?!;) — anyway, I am SOOOOOO excited about Freddie Freeman playing first base. First — another “F word!” LOL.

And next to Freddie on the infield will be our new muscular second baseman Uggla. That’s kind of a funny name, but I love it!! He can smack that ball hard! I heard that he’s not a great fielder but I’m not going to buy into that stinkin’ thinkin’. We’re going to have a teriffic infield. I just know it.

Which brings me to Chipper. I saw where he got a little ticked the other day with his critics. You tell ‘em, Chipsy!! My prediction? How about 1999 all over again?! MVP! MVP! MVP!

And what can you say about Martin Prado, Tommy Hanson, Timmy Hudson, Dereky Lowe and Jairy Jurrjens? They all totally and absolutely and 127% ROCK MY WORLD!!

How’d I do fellas? And gals?:) GBWTWS!!! (Go Bravos Win The World Series!!)

Holiday Greetings from Duane

Wassup, peeps? Man, I’m in a rough patch. Not to bore anybody too much, but I knew I never shoulda let ole Rusty Post stay at my place. He come down to LaGrange in October, told me he was down on his luck and needed a place to stay for a week or two.  Well, here we are, what — two and a half months later? And that meth-addict freak is still sleeping on my couch, watching my cable and eating my food.

And the cops have been to to my place three times. My boss, Danny and his wife — I live in the apartment over their garage in the back yard — didn’t care for that at all. I wasn’t wild about seeing John Law in my living room, myself. Hell, I was hoping they’d haul Rusty to jail, but he talked his way out of it somehow.

Anyhoo, Danny asked me the other day if I seen Rusty going in their house. I ain’t seen him go in there, but I damn sure wouldn’t put it past him. Danny’s wife, Renee had some jewelry come up missing. Rusty probably stole it to buy meth. He’s crazy white trash with no respect for hisself or anybody else. Hell, the other evening I came home from work and he was sitting on a chair on our little porch jerking off just as nonchalant as you please. Anyway, I’m scared to just kick him out. Sumbitch is so crazy no telling what he might do.

I know Rusty from back in Forest Park. His older brother, Derwin, went to high school with me. Derwin’s a pretty good ole boy. Harmless. Been working at the tire shop for 25 years now. Ain’t setting the world on fire, for sure, but he’s Bill friggin Gates compared to Rusty. Rusty ain’t helping my cause in trying to get back together with Brenda, either. She heard from Derwin that Rusty was staying with me. She was unimpressed, to say the least.

Suffice to say, I got work to do there. She’s even spending Christmas with that damn electrician she’s been dating, with his kids. Makes me wanna puke. I reckon I’ll hang out and watch the Blue-Gray game with Rusty. How’s that for a Merry damn Christmas.

So, about the Braves. I like that Uggla. Funny name, but he can hit. I’m hoping we can get a center fielder. McLouth might as well swing, well, a rusty post up there at the plate. Dude can’t even throw the ball in from the outfield. I even had a dream about that bum the other night. Dreamed he tried to throw a ball and it just fell out of his hand and into the crowd.  Some woman caught it and she turned around and it was my mother, but then her face started melting off and I was there naked and …um, nevermind.

I wish we had another center fielder. Another Heyward, or somebody like that. Or another Otis Nixon. Hell, Rowland Office would be better than Nate McHeaduphisass. I hate to see Matt Diaz go. Thanks for the memories, Matt. I never did think he looked Mexican even though he got a Mexican name.

Yall be good. Merry Christamas and go Bravos!

Duane did a bad thing

I need that money, Braves!

Man, I done a bad thing. Real bad. Now I feel real bad about it. Maybe feeling bad will make me feel better.

Now I ain’t making no sense, but maybe I can write a country song. Anyhoo, here’s what went down. Other day, my boss and good buddy — I live over his garage — at the city of LaGrange, parks director Bobby Lee Duckworth told me the city was gonna cut the budget and he might have to lay me off or cut my hours.

Pissed me off at first. So later that night I was watching Biggest Loser and drinking about 9 MGDs in the big house with Bobby Lee and his wife, Nita, and I don’t kow what got a hold of me, but I stole his wallet. Yep. Took it red-handed off the kitchen counter.

Then later I helped him look for it. Well, since then I slipped back in and slid it under a table and pretended like I found it. What he don’t know yet is I used his credit card to pay off my on-demand movie bill so my cable wouldn’t get cut off.  

Like I said, I feel real bad about all this. See at first I blamed Bobby Lee for maybe losing my job. Oh, he explained to me he hated it, how it was orders from the city manager and revenues was down on account of the recession, and so on.

Hell, he’s right. It ain’t his fault. He’s been real good to me. He put his ass on the line giving me the job in the first place.

I ain’t told him any of this, about my moral diemmacy I mean, and that I took his billfold and used his credit card. Probably won’t. Hell, he thanked me for finding the wallet. KInda guy he is. That made me feel even worse still. So I’m having what you might call a moral rassling match with myself. It ain’t a hell of a lot of fun. I gotta admit, though, that damn HD is looking good.

Speaking of, I can’t wait to see Jason Heyward on tv playing for our Bravos. Damn. He’s gonna be another Hank Aaron combined with Dale Murphy. You know he’s Iron Head’s son, right? If Bobby don’t have that boy in right field opening day he ought to retire right then and there and not wait till the season’s over.

Moving on. Yunel Escoledo’s gonna hit 25 home runs this year and win a gold glove. He’s a star, son. A big one.

Now, Chipper. I don’t know. I hope he can bounce back. I do know I wanna go hunting out at his ranch. You think him and Rochey would take me along? Anybody know him and can maybe put in a word for me, I’d appreicate it.

How you pronounce Glaus? Does it rhyme with House? Or is it like Gloss, rhymes with hoss? Any case, that big dude needs to get hisself hitting and staying well.

Hansel’s gonna win 19. Huddy’s gonna wini 18. JJ’s gonna win 16. Braves over Phillies and then the Yankees and Teshowmethemoney. Bobby goes into the sunset with a champeenship, and I win $50,000 and quit the damn job anyway. That is, if my cousin Donnie placed that bet out in Reno like I told him to.

I gotta go. Brenda’s agreed to take one last shot with one of them “relationship coaches.”  We’re meeting down at Applebee’s. I hope that coach’ll pick up my tab.

Later, fellas. Go Braves.


Hampton lashes out

My titty hurts

My titty hurts

In an Office exclusive, Mike Hampton said he was “saddened and confused” by the reaction he received from Braves fans Friday night at Turner Field.

“I gave my heart to this team, to the fans, to the city,” said Hampton, soaking in ice from the neck down. “No one works harder than me.”

Hampton pointed out that he flew from Houston to Atlanta at great risk to his health. “I could’ve caught the swine flu, but I wanted to come back to Turner Field. I thought the fans would be glad to see me,” he said.

The veteran southpaw doubts he’ll be able to make his next start. “The boos really hurt,” he said. “I might need to take some time off to get my mind right. Maybe a few weeks, a month, I don’t know.”

He asked Braves fans to put themselves in his shoes.

“You try pitching with a bruised nipple,” he said, indignant. Turning to his locker, Hampton stubbed his toe and fell to the floor, writhing in pain.

He’s listed in stable condition at Grady Memorial Hospital.