It's well after midnight, and I have to be up at 6 a.m. for an immature drink-a-thon. It's basically the exact opposite of what Theo Epstein was doing when he was 27, but whatever. Besides that, I gots nothing for you. Actually, I gots a ton of crap, but now isn't the time. This is because I'm hoping to achieve five hours of shut-eye. (Should shut-eye be hyphenated? Anyone? Bueller? )
My brother tells me that I shouldn't promise my readers that I'll touch on a certain subject in the upcoming days because (a.) it's a lame thing to do, and (b.) I rarely end up following through. He's probably right.
Anyway, when I'm coherent I'll give my thoughts on the tourney. I'll also tell you who to wager on and why. And I'm taping Johnny Cueto's start Monday, so I'll (presumably) tell you how sweet I thought he was. Most importantly, I'll recap my St. Patty's day (with help from my trusty journal).
That's all, jerks. I posted a new podcast about one of the biggest scams of the past decade; it's titled "remember when you could name a star after someone." It's quite enjoyable.
Wish me luck.
-Brad Spieser (Brad@TwinKilling.com)
3/17/08
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