On Monday I witnessed one of the worst Royals defeats of all time as they were spanked 19-1 by the Twins. Several beers, er, innings in it became funny - the inept outfielders seemed to be bird watching, and the sluggish infielders must have been scarfing nachos and Mountain Dew in the dugout, because they just stood there and lazily watched the balls roll by.
The good news: these days, career changes are the norm.
Here are 5 possible careers the Royals should consider instead of baseball:
- They should run a hot dog stand.
Selling everyone's favorite ballpark indulgence on a street corner outside a dive bar should suit the team just fine. Patrons will find it charming when Cy Young winner Zack Greinke wraps up their order, cocks back his arm, and tells them to get ready to catch a 97-MPH fastball, and David DeJesus will be on hand to grin affably and pass out relish and mustard packets. The only thing that might fuck it up: Alex Gordon gets confused and runs a "buck night" promo; Billy Butler and Bruce Chen get hammered and eat all the raw dogs. - They should manufacture luxury bath products.
Selling an overrated product to a small group of hapless but inexplicably loyal consumers is a business model with which the Royals have become increasingly familiar. They should use this to their advantage to make bath salts, soaps and scrubs with baseball slang-inspired names, such as clean-up hitter, caught looking, bases juiced, scoring position, sweet spot and fielder's choice. The only thing that might fuck it up: Yuniesky Betancourt makes "exfoliating body wash" out of petroleum jelly and gravel. - They should open a costume store.
That way they can dress up as the New York Yankees or the St. Louis Cardinals and pretend they're relevant and good at baseball. The only thing that might fuck it up: They accidentally dress up as the 2003 Detroit Tigers, whose 43-119 record is an all-time American League worst; Butler and Jose Guillen can't stop arguing over who gets to be Albert Pujols. - They should start their own psychiatric practice.
Depressed patients will come in to air their grievances and be one-upped with the team's tales of epic failure. Former ace Gil Meche can talk about how a shoulder injury ended his 2010 season with an 0-4 record and a 6.66 ERA; manager Ned Yost can whine about his bullpen giving up so many home runs to the White Sox that he was surprised Chicago had enough fireworks left to celebrate; and Greinke can explain how it feels to wake up in a cold sweat every night after dreaming again of drowning. They might even want to invite Mike Sweeney over to tell about the time he injured his back while tying his shoe and played only 60 games of the 2006 season. Patients will leave feeling considerably better by comparison. The only thing that might fuck it up: If anyone at any point mentions the huge salary he has in no way earned. - They should purchase a Subway, Jimmy Johns, Starbucks or Chipotle franchise.
That way, when they fuck it up, someone who does it better is only a block away as opposed to in St. Louis, Chicago, Minnesota or Colorado.
don't let Bill Murray get you down, boys.
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