Things about Milton Bradley

Dear Milton Bradley:

Remember when I was at that game you threw the ball into the crowd with 2 outs? Yeah. I was mad… but I forgave you.

Remember when I was at that game where you dropped two balls in right field in one game, and struck out every time you were at the plate? Yeah. I was mad… but I forgave you.

Remember the entire month of June? And May? Oh, and April, too? Yeah. Forgiven.

With some trepidation, I rallied around you one more time when you swore you “were back 100%” in late July, and I proceeded to give you more chances, because, hell, you’re on the team I love, ergo, you are automatically a beneficiary of some of my hopeless but perpetual optimism.

Really. I’m a Cubs fan. I stick by my team through thick and thin. I suffer through pain and disappointment on a yearly basis. A lot of disappointment.  And I forgive. I don’t boo players on my team or the opponent’s, ‘cuz I think that’s asshatty.

But seriously? All that being said?

Get off my fucking team.

You are the worst parts of baseball all rolled into one.

Get off my team.

Get off my team.

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