Like most members of the work force, I have a very simple and quite regular morning routine. My alarm goes off around 7:50 AM, at which time I throw my comforter off my body, stagger into my kitchen, slam a glass or two of water into my system, turn on ESPN News and get in the shower. By 8:10 AM, I'm out the door. Before I leave my house, I shut off all the lights and turn off the television. Ordinarily, I don't actually watch the ESPN News. It's just the background noise of the dull regularity that is part of my day-to-day work life.
This morning was no different.
After I get in my car, I turn on 97X and listen to Fisher and Boy. My commute is fifteen minutes long, so I don't get to focus much on the show.
As I was turning onto Livingston Ave, listening to Fisher and Boy defend themselves for jokingly encouraging teenage suicide on the show the day before, my subconscious prodded me with a weird message.
“Rick Ankiel,” it said.
“Two homeruns,” my conscious responded, because the man my dad calls Twisted Ankiel (Dad likes puns) had popped two and driven in seven against the Pirates the day before and I had seen it on television.
“HGH,” spoke my subconscious.
“What?” I asked.
But you can't ask questions of the subconscious, which is like some weird little hippie wandering through the busy crowd that is my brain, whispering occasional words about stuff that only it saw, but never really providing meaning.
When I got to work, much to my surprise, I really had to work. I had two appointments and about thirty phone calls before I settled down with an Everything Bagel and stltoday.com/sports around 11AM.
Sources say Ankiel received HGH Supply
Well, there's a disturbing headline.
And my subconscious, that stupid hippie, snickered.
Now, if you want, you can read the details of the story yourself (I even linked to it). I'm pretty sure that Ankiel won't be suspended for his alleged transgressions (I'm also pretty sure this finally explains why the Patriots Rodney Harrison ratted on himself to the league?he knew this info was gonna be released eventually), and I want to say that I do not believe that Ankiel is currently on the juice, any juice.
But I don't know for sure.
I mentioned a while back that when Ankiel was twenty, some of my more under the table, entrepreneurial friends had some things to say about the then-pitcher's nighttime activities and substances of choice. So it would be stupid for me to say that Rick would be above using a performance enhancer.
And the thing is, I don't care. To paraphrase Mark McGwire's prophetic appearance on The Simpson's a few years ago: I don't want to know the horrible truth; I just want to see some dingers.
And so Ankiel's name is now firmly planted in the mud, along with Bonds and Harrision and the WWE and McGwire and Canseco and that pimple covered dude who screams a lot in the gym. And that's okay. You see, I'm fine with that. It's risk and it's reward and all that, and Ankiel can do whatever the hell he wants.
And maybe he's guilty and maybe he's innocent and time will tell, etcetera, etcetera, so on and so forth, Your Honor?
And maybe this news won't affect Ankiel's play. Maybe this news will actually motivate the new outfielder. But it definitely affects the great story of the great pitcher turned great hitter.
But maybe that story should be affected. Maybe, just maybe, this story is as good as it gets. Maybe no one is perfect; maybe no one is eligible for the storybook career. Maybe, just maybe, reality is fucking messy. No matter who you are.
More than likely however, I just want the Cards to get in the post season, with or without bad press.