Pat Burrell is retiring, which means this site now has to exist in a world without him. Ladies… without Burrell is like Seinfeld without Jerry, like a flower without petals, like Grady Sizemore without that one coffee cup. Just…totally naked, but in like a really sad way.
According to Google, the Ladies… have written about Pat Burrell 118 times. By no means is that the most we’ve ever covered a hottie of sport (paging Tom Brady, Ryan Lochte, etc.), but he is a part of the very fiber of our collective heart nonetheless.
In most of the rest of this post, we'll forget he has a face, too.
The location on our Twitter page is “behind Pat Burrell.” He was a consensus pick to be featured in the site banner way back when (before I was around, which says something). Burrell also won the Mickey Mantle Award in 2007, and honestly the award could be re-named after his…self.
(Bonus reading material: Deadspin’s library of Burrell stories is fascinating and also gross. Like that time my dog pooped several marbles.)
Why the obsession? Let’s take a visual journey.
I can't even...and neither can the catcher there.
We will only think the cleanest of thoughts.
Remember that time he was the Rays' DH?
Is he...trying to check himself out?
Wallpaper forever. No, I mean, in my house.
Om nom nom Phillies pants
Taking a healthy hack.
It should be cast in bronze.
Whewww….where was I, again? Oh yeah: Farewell, sweet Bat. Your backside has enthralled baseball fans for many years, and it will be missed. As Texas Gal wroteso many years ago:
Pat hones his ass to perfection like other major leaguers work on things like “hitting” and “fielding”. His ass is the sun around which everything else in his life revolves, and to which women are drawn like a moth to the flame. Songs have been written in its honor.
Consider this but one more such song.
Ladies... 
He has a fine ass. Too bad he also tends to *be* an ass.
Fare thee well, Pat. Walk off into the sunset. Slowly.