So nice to see Yu. Saludos, my Darvish. Come on, let’s mingle. You know, my dear, my father used to say to me, Grey, don’t be a schnook. It’s not how Yu feel. It’s how Yu look. And you, Darvish, you look absolutely marvishlous. Cole Hamels — bleh. R.A. Dickey — eh. Yu Darvish — absolutely marvishlous! When a beautiful girl passes or when you see something you know you may never see again, what do you say? I say, oohbeekadoobie like I’m Billy Crystal impersonating Sammy Davis Jr. Nothing else can express the start Darvish had last night. Oohbeekadoobie, baby, oohbeekadoobie. That’s all I have. Sure, it’s a nonsensical word that’s origin of meaning is bupkis, but when one comes face-to-face with wonder, one is left with nothing but oohbeekadoobie. Just like Darvish pulled up just short of a perfect game, I’ll pull up short of saying he’s a number one/top ten starter off of one start in April vs. the Astros. The Astros, mind you, who are put together as a team the same way you used to put together pick up games. If you have a glove and bat, you can play for them. Anyway, here’s what else I saw yesterday in fantasy baseball:

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Here’s what’s gonna happen.  You’re gonna be out at a family BBQ for Memorial Day.  Your weird uncle that has coke bottle glasses is going to ask your girlfriend if she’ll pass the potato salad just so he can get a glimpse of her bra when she moves her arm, and then your friend is going to text you, “Anthony Rizzo called up!  Please, blog, may I have some more?

Please, blog, may I have some more?

I’m no Nostradumbass, but I’m telling you there’s not going to be a whole lot of greatness coming out of this post.  We’re Cousteau deep right now.  The first tier have some nice flyers that you may drop after a week or so and the other schmohawks in this post are, well, schmohawks.  Please, blog, may I have some more?

Please, blog, may I have some more?

What a ridonkulous season from Melky Cabrera.  Most of youse didn’t even draft him and here he is in September going 4-for-5 with his 18th homer, raising his average to .303 to go along with 18 steals.  As they used to say in 14th century China, “Damn, Ming.”  The spilled coffee on the saucer that then drips onto your dress shirt is I don’t trust this guy at all for next year.  Please, blog, may I have some more?

Please, blog, may I have some more?