Men:

If anyone had any doubts about whether Possum is in league with the devil, these doubts have surely been forever cast asunder by the performance of Possum’s Wahoos this past fortnight. How else to explain the uncanny pitching performances of each and every member of Possum’s starting staff, beginning with Schilling and ending with Trachsel, who last night threw yet another beauty and notched 22 positive points for Possum’s team.

Not that I’m one to suck on sour grapes or anything, but in twenty years of Hot Stove League competition, I’ve never seen anything like it.  While Possum’s hitters are all rightfully handcuffed and leg-shackled by the hitting points caps (with the Wahoos currently receiving no points for home runs or walks, and about to cap out on runs scored), the ’Hoos’ staff has suddenly turned into a buzz-saw corps of Cy Young candidates who refuse to do anything but toss quality start gems and log boatloads of points for the once dead-in-the-water Wahoos. With only four days left to go in the season, and most of the MLB playoffs spots spoken for, it looks like an insurmountable task to overtake the Wahoos and thwart his bid for a fourth team championship. Methinks it is all over except the crying and whining.

Not that I’m the kind of guy to bitch and moan about personal misfortune or anything, but if it wasn’t for bad luck, my team would have no luck at all. By way of example, please note that the Senators pitchers have posted a total of 117 quality starts, yet have only managed to capture a total of 86 wins, through Monday night. Contrast this with the staff of the Wahoos, who have managed to post a total of 98 wins out of their 104 quality starts. Where’s the fairness in that? As my wife would say, "fair" is something that comes to Douglas County once a year, nothing more, nothing less. 

If anyone suggests that Senatorial mismanagement may have played a part in my team’s undoing, such as my recent promotion of Roy Halladay and my demotion of Mark Buehrle and Bronson Arroyo (leaving 50-plus points in my minors), you’ve just invited yourself to a bare knuckles fistfight with Herr Skipper, and you better pack a lunch. If you’re not moving ahead, you’re moving backwards, I always say.

In any event, I'm tired, I'm upset, I'm confused, and at 2:00 a.m. on Wednesday morning, it’s time to get this week’s publication of From the Bullpen to the editor’s desk, and we’ll let the chips fall where they may. But know this: If Possum’s monkeyshines and tomfoolery persist throughout these last four days of the season, there will be a Congressional inquiry which will make Watergate, Iran-gate, and the Whitewater investigation look like a tea and crumpets party hosted by Savannah’s Brownie Troop No. 17.

As you were.

Skipper