"God damn it; this bottle of champagne is giving me splinters! What? We didn't win the World Series? I went 6 and 6 with 4.18 ERA? I was shown to be a dirty rotten cheater, jeopardizing my shoo-in Hall of Fame ballot? Well, son of a..."
To be fair, there´s lots of reasons to throw stuff at Mike Piazza aside from being a drugged out psychopathic lying jerk from the jerk store. The simple fact of the matter is that that at-bat wasn´t big enough for the both of those goatees.
Hmm, what should I do with this newly acquired splintered-laden piece of wood. Perhaps throw it close to someone, then act tough, but then, in the end, do nothing.
I just brought the term "having wood" to a whole other level.
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