The Jays will welcome back Miguel Batista tonight, who between innings will write angry poems about how Toronto management treated him, as well as a detective story on how a football general manager named P.J. Dirraddi gets killed by a vengeful, scorned former player.
Batista isn't a superstar by any stretch of the imagination, but he probably deserved better treatment that he received in T.O.. Batista was run out of town on a rail as a closer, in spite of the fact that he was always much more valuable as an inning-eating starter. He was allegedly pouty and difficult, but we'd take that in a player who takes the ball every five or six days over the jovial Nerf-dart shooting, shaving cream-pie dispensing, chili pepper racing life of the party who ends up in the infirmary three times per season. (This is all very unfair, we know. But we don't have time for fair.)
At 53-39, the Mariners are for reals, with an offence that is flat out rolling right now. And all of this success comes with a rotation that includes Jeff Weaver, who in tomorrow's monumental matchup for the ages, Weaver takes on the Gas Can in the Battle of the Combustibles!
(Five bucks says that by the third inning, the managers just bring a tee out to the plate, and let the players have at it.)