I can see whomever I choose.  I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant.  But nothing, I said nothing, can take away these blues.  ‘Cause nothing compares, nothing compares to you.  -Sinead O’Conner

Public Service Announcement:  Ok, here we go!  First thing’s first.  I love CC Sabathia.  I would love to see him in a Red Sox uniform next year.  I saw saw what he had done.  I saw his heroics down the stretch.   I saw him breathe life into a breathless Brewers team.  ‘Cause when you call my name, you know I burn like a wooden flame.  You leave me ahhhhhh breathlessah!  Left Milwaukee fans ahhh breathlessah.  Left them breathlessah by single-handedly getting the Brewers into their first postseason in twenty-six years.  Left them breathlessah making four consecutive starts on short rest including one post-season appearance.  I saw all that.  I did.  But I’ve also seen John Smoltz.  Senator, I served with John Smoltz.  I knew John Smoltz.  John Smoltz was a friend of mine.  Senator, you’re no John Smoltz. 

In the post-season, maybe no one’s no John Smoltz.  Not Bob Gibson.  Not Curt Schilling.  Not nobody.  Not in 1992.  Sherman, set the way back machine.  In 1992, John Andrew Smoltz was everything an ace is supposed to be.  Maybe CC did make four consecutive starts on short rest including one post-season appearance.  Good for him.  MVP?  Cy Young?  President of the United States of America?  I could live with that.  But in 1992, John Smoltz did him better. 

In 1992, Smoltz made five consecutive post-season starts all on short rest.  Won three of them on short rest.  A 2.67 ERA on short rest.  NLCS MVP on short rest.  NLCS MVP despite being withered by the flu.  NLCS MVP by shutting down Pittsburgh’s formidable left-handed lineup.  Down goes Bonds! Down goes Van Slyke!  No, the Bravos did not win the 1992 Word Series.  That distinction goes to the Toronto Blue Jays.  But don’t blame Smoltzie.  In Game Two, he watched on after seven and one third innings of stellar work as his bullpen blew his lead.  In Game Five he faced Jack Morris.  His 1991 nemesis.  Stop calling me that, my name is Daphne!  This time, things were different.  This time, there would be no ten-inning shutout for Mount Morris.  No Most Valuable Player laurels.  This time it was John Smoltz doing the outlasting.  This time it was John Smoltz who went home a winner.   I’m gonna ask you a simple question and I want you to listen to me.  Who’s the big winner here tonight at the casino?  Huh?  Smoltzie, that’s who.  Smoltzie’s the big winner.  Smoltzie wins.  Won in his fifth consecutive start on short rest.  Yowza!  Smoltz: “I’ve always felt I should be the one pitching in big games.”   Me too Smoltzie.  Me too.

Public Acknowledgements:  Mitch Ryder, Jerry Lee Lewis, Lloyd Bentsen, Mr. Peabody, Heroes and Swingers

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six two and Even!

Josh Q. Public:  It is the spirit and not the form of law that keeps justice alive.  -Earl Warren

Public Service Announcement:  OK, here we go!  I don’t like this.  I don’t like this one bit.  I do not like it in a house.  I do not like it with a mouse.  I do not like it here or there.  I do not like it anywhere.  You may say I’m a homer.  You may say I’m out of order.  I say, you’re out of order!  You’re out of order!  The whole trial is out of order!  Boom Boom Beckett was robbed.  He was jobbed.  He was rump swabbed.  Just like Pedro was robbed by I-Rod oh so many years ago.  I don’t care that in the last game of the season Beckett looked more like Matt Young than he did Cy Young.  I don’t care that CC pitched more innings than Boom Boom.  I don’t care that he threw fifteen more strikeouts.  I don’t care what they say about us anyway.  I don’t care about that.  I care that Josh Boom Boom Beckett was the best pitcher in the American League this year.  Who would you want on the hill?  King of the Hill.  And just so you know, Beckett  struck out (.96) per inning while Sabathia struck out even fewer, a paltry (.84) per inning.  So put that in your pipe and smoke it.  Boom Boom Beckett walked only forty batters all season.  Boom Boom Beckett only allowed seventeen bombs.  Boom Boom Beckett Beckett limited opponents to a .245 batting average.  Boom Boom Beckett held opponents to .207 with runners in scoring position.  He outshined Sabathia in all these categories.  Outdevined Sabathia.  Out walked the line Sabathia.  Doesn’t that count for something?  Doesn’t twenty games?  I remember when twenty games meant something.  I remember when that was how a pitcher was measured.  Boy, the way Glenn Miller played.  Songs that made the Hit Parade.  Guys like us, we had it made.  Those were the days.  Not so much anymore.  Not for Mark Feinsand of the New York Daily News or Jorge Ortiz of USA Today.  I guess twenty games means bupkus to them.  Those Bozos each listed Sabathia, Lackey and Fausto Carmona on their ballots.  No Boom Boom Beckett in sight.  That just ain’t right.  Makes you wanna fight.  Fight for your right.  To party!   No partying now.  Not after this travesty.  Not after this mockery.   This trial is a travesty.  It’s a travesty of a mockery of a sham of a mockery of a travesty of two mockeries of a sham.  I guess you can’t have everything.

Public Acknowledgements:  Dr. Seuss, And Justice For All, Weezer, Mike Judge, The Brockton Enterprise, All In The Family, Beastie Boys and Woody Allen

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six Two and Even!