My Morning in Exile

Either there wasn’t much news this morning or else I couldn’t find it. Or I had a case of the Mondays. Whatever the case, it was sluggish going over at the peacock today:

I’m not the only one skeptical of Dontrelle Willis’ anxiety diagnosis.

Is Big Papi poised to break out? Warning: moron (me) citing statistics he doesn’t understand ahead!

Sammy Sosa is going to be waiting a while. I wonder if he’ll remain calm the entire time or if he’ll get all edgy as the years wear on.

As Simmons and Jason and everyone else has said recently, everything ends badly or else it never ends.

Finally, a parade of pitching busts for your Strasburg Eve enjoyment.

There’s a salami on rye in the office fridge with my name on it, and if history holds, it will help me snap back into positive brain function this afternoon (salami is basically a wonder drug). If so, there will be better blogging ahead.