Sexon the City
In early March I took the only vacation of my work career to Washington state. Between the time spent out in Olympia National Forest and climbing Mt. St. Helens, there was very little time for me to be preoccupied with sports. I deserved five days off from worrying about whether Indiana deserved an 8-seed or a 9-seed in the NCAA Tournament -- after all this was vacation.
But, there is of course always the local residents volleying about the morning sports headlines over a coffee and a doughnut at the nearest greasy spoon cafe. It didn't take much seeking out and it certainly didn't take long for me to ascertain that the good people of the Pacific Northwest just didn't really care for Richie Sexson at all.
Fans of varying degrees of sports knowledge informed me that he (1) struck out an obscene amount, (2) made an equally obscene amount of money and (3) that the Sonics weren't going anywhere on their watch. Well, turns out they were right on two of three accounts.
Sexson was 6-feet-8 inches of unmet expectations. And instead of wearing out opposing pitchers, he's wearing a well-trod path between the batter's box and the dugout from all the strikeouts. That's why today's move by the New York Yankees reeks of desperation. It's almost like the most storied and revered franchise -- or so they market themselves -- has gone from having the Derek Jeteresque pick of the free agent litter to your overzealous friend from work who cruises 4 a.m. bars looking for anyone who will have him.
That, like a Richie Sexon 0-2 hack at a curveball in the dirt, is just all-around ugly.
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