Also, in the spirit of full disclosure, please know that I have taken a vow of silence on the dog-and-pony show that is the Astros “managerial search” until it’s over. I see you working, Drayton. Go find a jillion candidates, parade them around for the press like cattle at the livestock show so your ball club keeps a few inches in the local paper in the middle of football season and an Astro-less MLB postseason. You can swindle me into your ten dollar nachos, but I’m not falling for this. Wake me up when you’ve chosen the poor shlub who gets to manage this team to 65 wins next year … or at least wake me up for the swimsuit competition. Manny Acta in a one piece …that’ll be interesting.
If you follow sports at all, you know the big story this past week has not been the MLB Playoffs or the Red River Shootout (and yes, it’s a SHOOTOUT; please, stop being so sensitive, people), but instead the revelation that ESPN, in addition to televising sporting events worldwide, is also running what amounts to a corporate brothel (in Bristol, Connecticut, of all places!).
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