Okay, I’ve given the whole Josh Beckett thing a lot of thought over the past 24 hours. Something’s clearly bothering him, and as someone with absolutely no clout or influence on the guy’s life whatsoever, I’m obviously the perfect candidate to figure out what it is. I’m happy to report that I’ve narrowed the cause of his recent struggles down to three things:
1) A silent protest against interleague play: Everyone knows where I stand on interleague play. It falls somewhere between “prostate exam” and “being torn apart by rabbits” on my scale of enjoyability (and I just created that word, so don’t look it up).
In a perfect world, I should only have to worry about the National League three times a year: The All Star Game, The World Series, and Bobby Cox Lederhosen Night at my local pub. Other than that, as I see it, the Pirates, Cubs, Dodgers and whoever else is over there can slap hams all summer long, provided they keep it on their side of the fence.
Now I’m starting to wonder if Josh, an NL escapee, feels the same way. Case in point: his recent back spasms, reportedly brought on by batting practice in preparation for our upcoming series with the Phillies. As a result, he’ll be moved up in the rotation, missing our two-game set in New York.
It’s common knowledge that Beckett’s body parts don’t stage a coup without his written permission; who can forget the infamous 2008 incident in which Josh chewed up one of his own ankles when it threatened to go limp on him without a letter of authorization? Therefore, I’m forced to be suspicious. This one’s got ulterior motives written all over it.
2) Fear of the Married Life. The thought of pending nuptials can make a man crazy, and history proves it can affect performance. Carl Yastrzemski was on his way to batting .800 back in ’68, until that fateful night he proposed to his girlfriend and a UPS truck drove over his tongue. You don’t go from shagging Leeann Tweeden and half the women’s Olympic softball team to cuddling on the loveseat watching “CSI: Dedham” without some repercussions, and Josh may be dragging the weight of his commitment to the mound. If we take anything from the work of Glen Campbell, people, it should be that a lone wolf needs to roam alone. And that whores are awesome.*
3) He did something to piss off Julian Tavarez: Sure, you can believe that Jools didn’t dabble in voodoo. But you do so at your own peril.
*Don’t blame me for that one. Glen says it himself in his hit “Wichita Lineman.” Yes, it’s simply implied. But it’s all there.