Life Goes On ...

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

- Robert Frost

Roy Halladay, a born and bred Toronto Blue Jay, has left the nest. He's a Phillie now. Officially. What he wanted to be. And a legion of Toronto baseball fans are now silent Philadelphia supporters.

Look at that smile. You love that smile. You can't root against that smile. Doc's happy. He will pitch in October. After years of dominating the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees, he will now, finally, get the opportunity to do it on the grandest of stages. And I can't wait.

As for the prospect pornography on it's way north, I am content. Kyle Drabek will follow in the footsteps of his father, and the footsteps of Roger Clemons, Pat Hentgen, and Doc before him, and win a Cy Young. He's also already had Tommy John surgery, so at least that's out of the way. Brett Wallace, while playing first base, will conjure memories of Carlos Delgado with his bat. And Travis d'Arnaud will be the greatest Blue Jays catcher since ... who the hell was the last great catcher the Jays employed?

You did good, Alex Anthopoulos. Actually, we'll know in five years, but that's neither here nor there right now. (No pressure, prospect porn.)

It's a new era. A new chapter. A new beginning. And I'm excited. Now that Doc is out of the American League, he's paved the way for Shaun Marcum to win his first Cy Young award. Marcum first, then Drabek. With Ricky Romero, or Brett Cecil, winning it in between.

Thanks Doc. #GBOAT.

"There is nothing wrong with change, if it is in the right direction."

- Winston Churchill

Deep Thoughts: FML

I gave Argentinian Juan Martin del Potro zero chance of defeating Roger Federer. I figured Federer, owner of the U.S. Open, would take the final in straight sets.

When I think of Federer, I think of the saying: "the relentless pursuit of perfection." And I want him not to deviate from that path. I want him to be perfect. I want him to be, without a doubt, the best tennis player to have ever played the game. While in every other scenario as a fan I cheer for the underdog, I find it impossible not to root for Roger Federer. It shouldn't, and it sounds rather juvenile, but it sucks when he loses.

Here's hoping he takes the Aussie. Greatest Tennis Player of All-Time. GTPAT ...

You can add last night's ridiculous Buffalo Bills vs. New England Patriots Monday nighter to the list of Bills-related nightmares I suffer from. Some night's it's Scott Norwood's "wide right." Other nights, Troy Aikman. Sometimes Emmitt Smith makes an appearance. One of the worst is a trip down "Music City Miracle" lane. Even the 2007 Monday night epic failure at home to Dallas stings in ways it probably shouldn't.

It's amazing how many different ways the Bills have found to kick their collective fan base in the nuts. And each time hurts just as much, if not more, than the one before it.

Growing up, a young eyebleaf and his older brother became Bills supporters because two of our best friends (the same age as big bro and I, and our respective tennis doubles partners) had family in Buffalo, and were fans by proxy. Without a home team to cheer for (sorry Boatmen), we hopped along for the ride. Who knew it would be so tragic?

Thankfully those four Super Bowl losses happened when I was nine through 12 years old. Little time, and emotion, had been invested then. Imagine, now, watching the Toronto Maple Leafs lose four straight times in the Stanley Cup Final? I'm not sure I'd ever recover.

There aren't many people in this world whom I'd wish Buffalo Bills fandom upon. It's not the best way to live. I hate you today, Leodis McKelvin. And you too, Tom Brady ...

The Toronto Blue Jays. Those bastards. Unfortunately, they're still playing. And you knew you could count on them to blow a 5-2 lead, and add to an already miserable Monday night.

You know why people are sick to death of this team? You know why nobody is showing up at the SkyDome? Because Brian Wolfe has pitched 12.1 innings this season, while Jeremy Accardo has pitched only six and two-thirds more. That's bullshit, plain and simple. And there is no excuse. There can't be for not be fielding the best possible team, night in and night out.

Errors be damned, Marco Scutaro is still the man. Yeah, he fucked up last night. Yeah, his .770 August OPS and .598 September OPS aren't exactly worthy of phone calls home. But he'll have to mail it in a lot worse than that for me to start taking away from what he's been able to accomplish in 2009.

The Blue Jays cannot play out the stretch soon enough. If you're not depressed enough, read the most recent from Jeff Blair.

I don't know about you, but I'm doing my best to forget this season ever happened. I'm looking towards the future. Stay tuned, either late today, or Wednesday morning, for a Q&A between 2009 Blue Jays third-round draft pick Jake Marisnick and the few, the proud, the Blue Jays blogosphere.

The End Of Salami And Cheese...

It is a sad, sad day in Toronto. In fact, it's the end of an era. Chuck Swirsky, the voice of the Toronto Raptors, is leaving town and heading south to Chicago. This is, as they say, fucking brutal.

Chuck...the Swirsk...*cue silent moments of reflection*

Man, I am going to miss him. To think that there won't ever be another call to "get out the salami and cheese" is heartbreaking. Quite. I think this hurts even more than the severe rapeage playoff ouster at the hands of Dwight Howard and the Orlando Magic.

Chuck was a rudey. Still is. Was hands down the best play-by-play announcer in this city. Joe Bowen is up there but I think Chuck's, well, Chuckisms put him over the top. It's hard to imagine a Raptors game without the standard Swirsky sound bites:







Toronto's loss is Chicago's gain. Swirsky is returning to the Windy City and will be calling Bulls games on Chicago radio. It is, as Doug Smith so kindly reports, stricly a family-oriented move. Say what you want about the Swirsk, but you can't hate on him for putting family first.

I'll miss him on The Fan 590 and, of course, on Raptors telecasts next season. I'll really miss the salami and cheese. But I wish him well. Thanks for the memories, Swirsky.

(On a side note, I wonder, can he take Leo Rautins with him?)