Arod spent a great deal of time on camera recently detailing his steroid use. A capsulized version is needed so here in essence is what happened. He abused a drug in 2001-2003 becuase he was young and under pressure. He was younger in Seattle but didn’t take the drug, but at age 25 in Texas, which is actually 28 everywhere else in the world, the pressure became so great he decided to take to cheat using a drug that he was not able to obtain in the Domican, by having his cousin get it for him in…you guessed it, the Dominican. A-Needle did not know the name of the drugs he was taking, and that they were even illegal, despite the skull and crossbones on the label and the fact that his cousin carried them over the border by shletering them in his asshole. A-Needle later went to New York where the pressure was suddenly off, what with being around such clean players as the Yankees had at the time. Quitting drugs was still not easy so he asked his cousin to stay nearby in a hotel room along with a trainer who was banned from all MLB clubhouses. Together they were able to find the inner strength to quit this horrible addiction. Then A-Needle went on Katie Couric’s show and lied, not to Katie but to himself, since he wasn’t being honest with himself at the time, so the logical thing to do is obviously lie to everyone else. One question that the media failed to ask was “”….Huh??? “” Another good question would have been, “Are you $$#@ing serious?”
One of the more noticeable things in the Gammons A-needle summit meeting was the quivering of Alex Rodriguez’ lips. It seemed to this viewer that A- Needle, when under pressure, has no control over the flaps of flesh that cover the orifice that spouts all his mis-remembrances. At times during the Gammons interview he would suck his lips in, during other pressurized moments he would let them sag down so his gums showed. A PI once told me that the irises expanding are a sure sign that a person is lying. One need not look that hard when talking to A-Needle, the proof is all in the gum flaps. If the Feds hooked a lie detector machine up to his mouth the device would go haywire. Sitting across from Peter Gammons, a man whose face resembles a first baseman’s glove, and who last had control of his lips back in the early seventies, it was as if I was watching two men trying to decide if they were going to make out with each other.
Baseball writers were quick to state that they will not vote for A-Needle for the Hall of Fame. Many cited his steroid/HGH use. Others just said it came down to HHG, ie.; they Hate His Guts. A-Needle’s best chance of getting in will be to approach the plexiglass both in the Hall of Fame lobby and purchase a ticket. I’ve done it under the influence of alcohol, so I’m sure a steroid abused lip quaking liar shouldn’t face any opposition.
Texas Rangers owner Tom Hicks said he was ashamed that A-Needle did drugs under his employ. Fair enough but Hicks should peer at his roster from those years in question, and ask himself how on earth did they fail to win a World Series. Pudge Rodriguez, A-Needle, Rafael Palmeiro, Juan Gonzalez and Jose Canseco were all on the team. Whether or not a salary cap is ever implemented in MLB is certainly in doubt, but for sure MLB should have saddled this pack of cheaters with a steroid cap. The locker room must have resembled a Balco testing facility minus the rhesus monkeys. Having that many players on drugs makes for a completely un-level playing field. The Rangers may as well have signed sprinter Ben Johnson to be a pinch runner, Lyle Alzado to DH and Marion Jones to be a ball girl.
One can only wonder what the pre-game pep talk on the Rangers was like.
“Guys, I just want o say one thing. Come out from your hiding spots and gather around for one minute. Pudge, I see you in the trash can, come out here. Juan, put the medical journal down and listen up. Jose, is that a needle protruding through your pants or are you just happy to see me. By the way, how’s the book coming? Raffy, stop pointing in my face and pay attention. Now, we’re standing here for a reason. We’ve busted our asses so hard this season, it actually hurts to sit. Think about all the work we’ve put in. The nights in the weight room, the long flights to the Dominican. Excuse me, phone call for me? Ahh, tell Alex’s cousin to use loading dock D. Now where was I? We have to win this game. Look down at the floor. Are we going to let all these empty needles go to waste? What do you say? We going to flush all this down the toilet? I mean literally of course we’re going to flush it down, but figuratively, are we? We should do that right now in fact, I hear Tom coming. Raffy, you just stepped on glass, I told you not to wear sandals in here. Could someone get behind me and see if I’m bleeding, I feel wet in the back. “”
Andre Smith, the large defensive tackle out of Alabama, did himself no favors recently by walking out of the combine. He was clocked at 3 mph on his way out the door, which was actually half a mile an hour faster than he ran his 40 time. Andre’s reason for leaving was that he just felt like he wasn’t physically ready. What did this guy expect they were going to do at the Combine? Non physical stuff? Pillow fights and marshmallow toasting, followed by a steam bath and an hour of story telling? It it a small coincidence that his coach is Nick Saban, a man who quit the NFL? NFL draft experts, the ones who annually draw up a mock draft that resembles the actual draft if you take every name off the board and place it somewhere else, say that Andre will still go in the top 10. My prediction: he eats himself out the league in two years.