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Jul. 5th, 2007 12:56 pmWade Boggs once drank seventy beers during a plane trip between Boston and Los Angeles to prepare himself for a game. There was the Chicken Man, with enough alcohol roiling through his system to kill a medium sized horse, loping on to the field, kidneys visibly pulsing through the back of his jersey to keep up with the toxic load nascaring through his bloodstream. He'd settle down that third base line, reddened eyes and addled brain so soaked in a lethal level of alcohol that his only thought was to kill the next batter and rape his corpse in the batter's box. To wait for him to put a bat on the ball and then run the hundred and thirty feet across the diamond and fell him with a spear tackle as he lumbered to first, tearing out his throat with his teeth in front of forty thousand screaming fans. As they hauled him away, he'd scream that if Babe Ruth could do that to a whore before every game, why couldn't he do it to a hapless rookie? What happened to tradition in the great game of baseball?
Dock Ellis pitched a no hitter in 1970 while high on LSD. The thing they don't tell you is that he'd also hammered back a dozen white pills with a distinctive cut on the top; White Crosses, the Holy Grail of Speed. While the two drugs battled for dominance, Ellis fired fastballs and changeups at a confused San Deigo Padres team. Why was the pitcher talking to the ball? Why did he keep screaming that he wasn't going to pitch to 'no goddamn Bigfoot!' everytime Nate Colbert came to bat? Was it legal to keep showing his cock to the fans on the third base line only with each strikeout, or should he even it out with the first base bleachers too? The jibbering madman on the mound earned the first no hitter by confusing the opposite team whether or not they were actually at a baseball game, or if by mistake, the bus had delivered them to some kind of shared hallucinatory experience just moments before plunging off a cliff.
Steve Howe celebrated winning the Rookie of the Year honours in 1980 by lying on the tiles of the shower room in Dodger Statium, trying to simultaniously stop the copious bleeding from his nose and control the violent tremours caused by the cocaine he'd bought off of Ron Cey in the top of the seventh inning. Some other rookie named Gooden had claimed that the coke shakes gave him an extra two inches of flutter on his breaking balls, almost knuckling movement that made batters shit themselves trying to catch up with it. He'd turned out to be right, and with a sinker almost as erratic as his liver function had become, Howe pitched out the ninth on his last complete game of the year, only minutes before the crap that Ney's stash was cut with sent him running for the clubhouse, trying to claw out the cockroaches that had somehow burrowed under his skin and even now wanted to climb out his mouth and anus for freedom.
It's a shame how drugs have ruined the game these days, isn't it?
Edit: This is all only slightly fictional
Dock Ellis pitched a no hitter in 1970 while high on LSD. The thing they don't tell you is that he'd also hammered back a dozen white pills with a distinctive cut on the top; White Crosses, the Holy Grail of Speed. While the two drugs battled for dominance, Ellis fired fastballs and changeups at a confused San Deigo Padres team. Why was the pitcher talking to the ball? Why did he keep screaming that he wasn't going to pitch to 'no goddamn Bigfoot!' everytime Nate Colbert came to bat? Was it legal to keep showing his cock to the fans on the third base line only with each strikeout, or should he even it out with the first base bleachers too? The jibbering madman on the mound earned the first no hitter by confusing the opposite team whether or not they were actually at a baseball game, or if by mistake, the bus had delivered them to some kind of shared hallucinatory experience just moments before plunging off a cliff.
Steve Howe celebrated winning the Rookie of the Year honours in 1980 by lying on the tiles of the shower room in Dodger Statium, trying to simultaniously stop the copious bleeding from his nose and control the violent tremours caused by the cocaine he'd bought off of Ron Cey in the top of the seventh inning. Some other rookie named Gooden had claimed that the coke shakes gave him an extra two inches of flutter on his breaking balls, almost knuckling movement that made batters shit themselves trying to catch up with it. He'd turned out to be right, and with a sinker almost as erratic as his liver function had become, Howe pitched out the ninth on his last complete game of the year, only minutes before the crap that Ney's stash was cut with sent him running for the clubhouse, trying to claw out the cockroaches that had somehow burrowed under his skin and even now wanted to climb out his mouth and anus for freedom.
It's a shame how drugs have ruined the game these days, isn't it?
Edit: This is all only slightly fictional