The Ladies… count two Phillies homers among their ranks, so Texas Gal and I were hoping that our meaty, darling, grinder Aaron “Bacon Pants” Rowand would resign with the Phillies. His face-smashing entusiasm and team-first attitude were part of what made the Phillies so much fun to watch this season. Also, he wears his uniform pants really tight. We liked that.
2007 was a banner year for Bacon Pants, and with the cheapskates in the Phillies front office shying away from long-term contracts, Bacon Pants signed today with the San Francisco Giants. He’ll patrol the outfield for the next five years, taking home a cool $12 million per year.
The fans of the San Francisco Giants have to be happy — there’s somebody fun to watch out in the outfield again.
I, however, am taking this news a little harder. I am — if you will — a sad panda.
Stage 1: Denial
To: Texas Gal
Date: December 12, 2007
Stage 2: Anger
How can he do this to me? Doesn’t he know how much I love him? Doesn’t he understand that no other city will love him as much as Philadelphia did? HE SMASHED HIS FACE ON A FENCE FOR US! DOESN’T THAT MEAN ANYTHING TO HIM?! The people in San Francisco won’t understand him! ONLY I DO! And besides, the Giants aren’t going to be in contention until 2009 at least. Good job, dummy, for signing up for five years with the NL West basement-dwellers.
Stage 3: Bargaining
What if the Phillies offer him $70 million over three years with a player option for a fourth? That’ll have to be more than the other clubs are offering him, right? That’ll have to bring him back, right? RIGHT?!
Stage 4: Depression
Fine. Go. Whatever. I don’t care.
I’m going to cry in the fetal position under my desk.
Stage 5: Acceptance
The man is 30 years old, and with the balls-to-the-wall way he plays, that means he’s no spring chicken anymore. He also has two school-age kids, and I imagine he wants them to have a stable environment while they’re in elementary school. Yeah, the 5-at-$60M contract has shades of Latrell Sprewell’s whine that “I need to feed my family,” but Bacon Pants picked a perfect season to have a career year. Get that money. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Good luck and Godspeed. But don’t be surprised if there’s two girls at AT&T holding up this sign next season:
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Texas Gal: Clare is a much braver and stronger woman than me. When I heard the news, I skipped all five steps and went straight to the step where I toss my “ROWAND” shirt on a bbq grill, douse it with a mixture of tears and Maker’s Mark, and then flick a solitary lit match on top. There’s a stage for that, right?
Since I am unable to form a coherent or rational thought on the subject, beyond alternating cries of “Nooooooo!” and “Boooooo!”, I’m going to share a few of the greatest moments in Bacon-ry. It’ll be like our own version of pouring out a bacon-flavored 40 on the Philly soil in his honor. Let’s start off with the greatest of them all: THE FACEPLANT.