How I got into a fight with Mike Greenwell.

Going out for a Bud after whooping my ass.

Going out for a Bud after whooping my ass.

(Correspondant Justin Robert Tierney went to visit Mike Greenwell for Sports Illustrated for 2008’s Where Are They Now segment but was replaced the next day by Adam Duerson. This was filed after he awoke from his severe head trauma.)

If you had told me the man before me had never used roids, I would have called you a big fat roided up liar. But then again, I thought the man in front of me was just some construction worker making one of those over blown nuevo riche homes for some fucktard that likes fountains with midgets and ballet dancers. As it turns out the construction worker was the fucktard. And the fucktard was Mike Greenwell.

Greenwell was way more jacked then the skinny bitch who replaced fan favorite and racist bastard Jim Rice for the Boston Red Sox. How does one’s physique improve after their playing days? I ask him if I can feel his biceps and he obliges. They are huge.

“Are you using roids now?”

“Fuck you man.”

Greenwell’s bitter Kentucky drawl comes from his second place finish in the 1988 AL MVP race to known roid hound Jose Canseco. Greenwell believes that Award should be his.

“It’s only right. Like what happened to Ben Johnson.” Refering to the 88 Olympic sprinting champ who was stripped of his medals. But I remind him that Johnson was Canadian and no one cared. J

“Dude you’re an asshole. Jose cheated. He should be punished.”

Then I reminded him that having Walt Hriniak as your hitting coach in the 80’s was pretty much cheating too. Gator, as I knew him in my hero worshipping youth, told me to shut my mouth and get off his property.

Then I ask Gator how many stolen bases he had in 1988. He said he didn’t know, “that was twenty years ago.” But I had his page in my back pocket. Jose had 40 stolen bases, Gator had 16. Steroids had nothing to do with that.

His stubbled jaw clenched so I could see the muscle ripple. I backed up a bit but only so that I could get a 2×4 under my foot so I could kick it up and smash it over his overblown skull if he charged me.

I told him his 119 RBI’s wouldn’t have even led the team last year. That he would have finished behind Carlos Pena in the MVP race. I mentioned that maybe there should be a re-vote but shouldn’t just be handed to him. Kirby Puckett had a better average and more homers.

“Wouldn’t you call it cheating to get the most lucrative contract in team history and then immediately begin to suck?”

As his construction mates started to surround me and I clenched my keys in my fist, I asked him how many World Series he had been to? The last thing I remember was seeing his smile. His pencil thin lip stache straightening to either end of his mouth. It occurred to me that what Greenwell really wanted was to be Jose Canseco: roided, Cuban, super rich, published author. I was mesmorized and the next thing I knew i was being tossed out of a pickup near an emergency room.

But tossed out knowing I was right.


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