Wednesday, January 07, 2015

“Godfather’s Rehab Assignment”

The Godfather of the SFNABA, the almighty creator, put himself on the DL on December 7th. Not with a strained oblique or a sore hammy, but with cancer.

Because it was cancer, he took the liberty to put himself on the 30-day DL, rather than the customary 15-day DL. It was a typical stand up move by Godfather, giving Jake Taylor, Old Crowe and the rest of the Tide front office suits enough time to make any personnel moves (ie. call up some cocky schmuck from the California JUCO burnout circuit). No one in the old-man wood bat community quite has the clout to put Godfather on the DL, so he went ahead and announced it himself, like the man he is. All told, Godfather only spent 25 days on the DL. He came off the DL on New Years Eve, 2014.

Godfather put himself on the DL on Sunday, December 7th. The first words of the Disabled List announcement read, “Well shit…”

Within the announcement there was link to a new blog authored by the Godfather himself, titled: “FUCK YOU CANCER.”

The title is more appropriate for The Shitter Twitter than anything else, but Godfather isn’t the type of guy to go with the generic “Stand Up To Cancer (S^2C)” slogan. He’d rather just say, “Fuck you cancer” and get on with it.

Godfather came out of the gate swinging a relatively hot stick, all things considered. His first post was titled “When, Where, What, How?” as in “Give me the fucking ball, Skip, and get out of my way. My cutter is moving today, and my Uncle Charlie is falling off the table. I’m going to head out there and put a couple new salt lines on my Tide hat. Come get me in the 6th or 7th inning. And make sure the post-game IPA is cold and hoppy, would ya?”

Godfather outlined things bluntly in his first post. One of the rules was, “Do not send flowers (read: I’m not a fucking pussy, you guys).” Fair enough.

Non Runner showed up shortly thereafter with some other derelicts from the Tide roster. To see Godfather, sure, but mostly to take stock of the wool in the UCSF nursing corps. (There was plenty of it, thank God). Poker night fell through, but Non Runner cracked enough racist jokes to make up for it.

Three days later, Godfather took to the web to inform us that he had talked his way into a room of his own, complete with a nicer TV and (presumably) hotter nurses. Chemo had started and Godfather took time to remind us that there was “no excuses.” Well fine then Godfather, no excuses, including chemo.

By the end of the week Godfather was wrapping up “Round 1” of chemo. Just absolutely kicking the shit out of it. Mike Tyson style, inside the MGM grand in Vegas, black shoes with black trunks. No robe, just walking into the ring with his shirt off and boxing gloves on, foaming at the mouth, demanding someone to ring the bell so he could go fuck some cancer up a 4am.

By the following week, after a brief look around at the Rock Bottom Hotel (a site Non Runner has seen too many times on flights back from Miami), Godfather was back in good spirits, in a new room. An illegal PED called Neupogen was pumped into Godfather, much to his delight. The soap opera wool wasn’t half bad either.

By the 20th of January, Godfather was back down in a dark valley, this time it resembled a Jon Danger-Columbia-bender type dark valley, but it wasn’t long before he was back up for air, with his Amazon Fire TV stick firmly in hand and his Iron Mike black trunks still on.

By year’s end, Godfather was well enough to issue a few press passes, namely to It was the first time media outlets had heard from the gentle giant in almost a month. ‘Father assured his fanbase he’d be off the DL by the beginning of 2015 and he took the time to talk Los Angeles Dodgers hot stove, lamenting the loss of Dee Gordon, but welcoming in Howie Kendrick with open arms.

Godfather is home for now, enjoying some MLB Network and recharging his batteries for some more 9 inning battles at UCSF, high above Big Rec. It’s only a matter of weeks now until SFNABA pitchers and catchers are due to report, in the league that the Godfather created. If you need to find him, he’ll either be at his house, UCSF, or the yard. Just don’t send him any fucking flowers.

Roll Tide…

Posted by section925 on 01/07 at 03:13 PM
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