Idiots Write About Sports

I’m not much of a boo-er at ball games. I certainly don’t go in for that rote booing of opposing players just because they’re wearing different laundry from the team I wrote for. You’ve got to earn my disdain, slick — most opposing players I’m happy to regard with studied indifference.

I say “most.” There is a clutch of ballplayers who have so offended my delicate sensibilities that I will boo them, no matter the time, circumstance, or occassion. Fan Appreciation Day in their honor? Boo! Landmark achievement reached? Boo! Funeral or wake? Boooooooooooooo!

It’s a short list, my Hall of Villains, but I’ve always believed in picking my battles.

• Roger Clemens
• Jason Giambi
• Frank Francisco
• A.J. Pierzynski

“Hold the phone,” you’re probably saying. “A.J. Pierzynski? What, was Tom Lampkin unworthy of your wrath?” And it’s true — Pierzynski seems like a strange choice on which to waste my ire. The other tree make sense for crimes ranging from cowardice (Clemens) to treachery (Giambi) to chair-throwing (three guesses…). So why Pierzynski?

Because, as I’ve written before, he’s a jerk. And not even in that “boy I hate him because he’s on the other team, but I’d love him if he played here” way — if Pierzynski ever donned an A’s uniform, I had have to either go into denial or re-evaluate my allegiance to the team. I dislike him that much because he’s a bad teammate, a whiny pop-off, and an insufferable braggart and showboat.

But, according to this item in today’s Bruce Jenkins column, those are really the least of Pierzynski’s crimes against humanity:

One of those now-it-can-be-told stories the White Sox, A.J. Pierzynski’s new employer, surely haven’t heard: During a Giants exhibition game last spring, Pierzynski took a shot to his, shall we say, private parts. Trainer Stan Conte rushed to the scene, placed his hands on Pierzynski’s shoulders in a reassuring way, and asked how it felt. “Like this,” said Pierzynski, viciously delivering a knee to Conte’s groin. It was a real test of professionalism for the enraged Conte, who vowed to ignore Pierzynski for the rest of the season until Conte realized how that would look. The incident went unreported because all of the beat writers happened to be doing in-game interviews in the clubhouse, but it was corroborated by a half-dozen eyewitnesses who could hardly believe their eyes. Said one source, as reliable as they come: “There is absolutely no doubt that it happened.”

Wowie.

Hey, good luck, White Sox. Sounds to me like you’re going to need it. And it sounds like Herm Schneider, Chicago’s trainer, better invest in a good cup or two for himself.

oh, MAN. Tony Phillips, Albert Belle, Jose Canseco, Carl Everett (TWICE) and now this jackass. We are the real cursed team.

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