Yes, as of this past Sunday, he is hitting .169, and he has struck out 21 times in 59 at bats, and, yes, he has only one hit to the opposite field, and, yes, he weighs close to 250 pounds, and, yes, the team signed him to a 2-year $36 million contract, and certainly there is a temptation right now to blame the LA team and/or Mr. Jones, but neither is to blame. Who is to blame? Ask not who. What is to blame? That whose name must not be spoken.
The Nameless is even writing Jones' lines. "In the daylight in this place, it is tough to see the ball," or "I'm seeing a lot of off-speed pitches, a lot of balls out of the strike zone." Are you seeing, Andruw, or aren't you? And if you are seeing balls out of the strike zone, why are you swinging at them? And trying to pull them? And if you are not seeing them, why are you swinging at them and trying to pull them?
But don't blame Andrew for being kerfuffled. Put the blame where it belongs. You know where that is. Please don't blame Andruw as he continues his futile search for the peace that surpasseth all understanding, and please don't blame the LA executives who imagine they are running and in control of this runaway team that is plunging at a terrifying rate into the jaws of hell.
Blame the Nameless. Look no further than the Nameless. But do not name the Nameless. You will offend it if you do. Name not the Nameless. (It rhymes with Hearse.) Do not name it, and do not look at it. Avert your eyes. But know that it has eyes only for you.
The Nameless is even writing Jones' lines. "In the daylight in this place, it is tough to see the ball," or "I'm seeing a lot of off-speed pitches, a lot of balls out of the strike zone." Are you seeing, Andruw, or aren't you? And if you are seeing balls out of the strike zone, why are you swinging at them? And trying to pull them? And if you are not seeing them, why are you swinging at them and trying to pull them?
But don't blame Andrew for being kerfuffled. Put the blame where it belongs. You know where that is. Please don't blame Andruw as he continues his futile search for the peace that surpasseth all understanding, and please don't blame the LA executives who imagine they are running and in control of this runaway team that is plunging at a terrifying rate into the jaws of hell.
Blame the Nameless. Look no further than the Nameless. But do not name the Nameless. You will offend it if you do. Name not the Nameless. (It rhymes with Hearse.) Do not name it, and do not look at it. Avert your eyes. But know that it has eyes only for you.
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