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Slamming Sammy


southsider2k5
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I found this hilarious

 

The clouds rolled in over Wrigley Field, dark clouds, the kind of clouds that make a man think about his mistakes, about his shortcomings, about any journalistic wedgies he might have given Sammy Sosa.

 

About atonement.

 

It's not often you're asked to apologize publicly and not often you're asked to apologize publicly by a public figure, though the suspicion here is that if you hung around His Samminess long enough, you'd be apologizing for everything from congestion on Lake Shore Drive to water spots on his crystal goblets.

 

"I have to prove to so many people that they were wrong when they had a chance to talk bad about me," Sosa said. "It's not how you start, it's how you finish. I never give up, and now those guys who were talking bad about me at the beginning [of the year], they have to come to me and apologize. I've always been at the top of my game. I never let myself down. The day that I do, I'm going to retire, but I never get down."

 

When he made those comments on the last day of July, Sammy had just hit a home run, his 13th of the month, and was feeling, shall we say, a bit more full of himself than normal. Any fuller and doctors said his chest would have actually blown up.

 

But he's right, you know, and it's time to ask forgiveness for ever doubting the guy.

 

Sammy ripped a two-run homer Sunday to lead the Cubs to a 2-1 victory over Arizona, leaving many of us in dire need of absolution.

 

I want to apologize for anything I might have written since the beginning of the time that questioned whether Sosa was on the downside of his career.

 

And I'd like to apologize for his 95 strikeouts in 322 at-bats this season. I don't know why, I just feel responsible.

 

I'd also like to apologize for that corking incident because if we can be honest with ourselves, we were all culpable. You, me and the cork tree that created the cork. In our desperation to build a homer-hitting hero, we turned Sosa into what he is. I'd like to think we all drilled the hole in Sammy's corked bat.

 

I'm sorry Luis Gonzalez broke up Matt Clement's perfect game with a home run with two outs in the fourth inning Sunday. I grooved that one to Gonzo. Please forgive me.

 

I really screwed up when I had Clement bat with two outs, the bases loaded and the Cubs down 1-0 in the sixth. People are going to blame manager Dusty Baker, but it was my bad decision. Clement struck out. Boo me. I only wish it would have been my head hitting the third-base line two months ago and not Hee Seop Choi's.

 

I caused the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. I'd like to apologize for the way Sammy hit the ball back to the pitcher for the final out in the Cubs' 4-3 loss to the Diamondbacks the day before. That was my fault. A negative energy field must have traveled from my brain to his hands and into his now perfectly legal bat.

 

The backbiting between Sammy and his former teammate, Mark Grace, is a direct result of my craving for controversy. Sammy never says anything bad about Grace. Any criticism that appears to be coming from Sosa's mouth is actually me throwing my voice. I'm sorry.

 

Enron? All me.

 

I'd like to apologize for causing the toenail problem that gave Sosa all sorts of problems early in the season and ultimately led to his stay on the disabled list. It also led to the doubts for which I already have apologized. I'm not above discussing reparations, Sammy.

 

As for Mike Ditka's equipment problem, Da Coach is on his own there.

 

Mark Grudzielanek broke his hand Saturday and will be out for four weeks. Can it be said that the injury was caused by the moral corruption of today's society? I think it can.

 

Mike Tyson blew $300 million and recently filed for bankruptcy. I feel personally responsible. And the worst thing is, there's no pill this Iron Mike can take to compensate.

 

I apologize for the 3-hour-14-minute rain delay Sunday. And all that rain in July? I'm not proud of it, but I choose to look at what I can do about August.

 

Air pollution, crime and poverty? My bad.

 

Last year, Sammy walked up to me and angrily offered a few choice words that proved he is embracing some of our more creative language. Unfortunately, he had me confused with another writer. He never apologized.

 

All's forgiven, Sammy.

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