Disappointing legions of baseball fans, CC Sabathia entered rehab the day before the wild card game.
“Today I am checking myself into an alcohol rehabilitation center to receive the professional care and assistance needed to treat my disease” said the heft lefty.
I love baseball and I love my teammates like brothers, and I am also fully aware that I am leaving at a time when we should all be coming together for one last push toward the World Series. I want to thank the New York Yankees organization for their encouragement and understanding. Their support gives me great strength and has allowed me to move forward with this decision with a clear mind.
CC’s decision sent shock waves through the professional sports community. We here at the Worldwide Headquarters of Manhattan Infidel™ have stayed up the entire night contacting baseball players past and present to get their take on the news.
While most of the players I called were too drunk to pick up the phone I was lucky enough to contact former Yankee and perfect game pitcher David Wells.
MI: David, any comment on the shocking news?
DW: Naturally my thoughts and prayers are with CC during this difficult time. I just hope CC gets the help he needs and comes back a stronger pitcher and a better man.
MI: What about the timing of the announcement? Did that surprise you? One day before the wild card playoff game?
DW: Look, baseball is just a game. Some things are more important. CC made the right decision.
MI: I see.
DW: What the hell’s wrong with these metrosexual pansies nowadays. I pitched drunk. One time I was so drunk I didn’t even realize I was pitching until I read the papers the next morning and found out I beaned Manny Ramirez.
MI: Perhaps it’s the timing of the announcement you have issue with and not the actual announcement itself?
DW: Have you heard a word I’ve said? CC should be ashamed of himself. Why back in ’98 in a meth-fueled rage Paul O’Neill, Chuck Knoblauch and myself sodomized and killed a hobo, not in that order, drove upstate and dumped his body in a reservoir. And we still made it back to the Bronx in time for game two of the World Series.
MI: I don’t believe I’ve heard that story before.
DW: That’s because Joe Torre hushed it up. We killed him on his orders.
MI: I don’t know what to say.
DW: In my day ballplayers were proud of their excesses. I still am. Right now I’m snorting cocaine off a hooker’s ass.
MI: I did not need to know that.
DW: In fact I think I’m going to snort cocaine off your ass.
DW: Bend over.
MI: No wait.
[Mr. Wells bends Manhattan Infidel over]
DW: You like it don’t you.
MI: What are you doing back there. What is that? That doesn’t feel like cocaine.
DW: Relax. I’m a ballplayer. You can trust me.
I won’t bore my readers with the rest of the interview, the details of which my therapist says that with years of expensive counseling I will be able to expunge from my memory.
Suffice to say that the modern ballplayer is a different breed than those that went before him.