An Overdeveloped Sense of Vengeance

My day already feels like someone's been poking at it with a blunt machete. Between the always-exciting Monday morning Xanax hangover, and the always miserable Monday morning Phillies hangover, my general mindset is similar to that of a Prozac deprived Tony Soprano holed up on a sheetless mattress with a giant gat pointed at the door.

The only ray of hope on my bleak horizon is an obese Domincan who seems to hold the fate of the Phillies in his six-fingered hand.

Are we looking at the second coming of Steve Bedrosian, as evidenced when Alfonseca ran throught Beltran, Delgado and Wright like he runs through the postgame buffet? Or are we loooking at the second coming of Jose Mesa (more on Joe Table later), as evidenced by his fat physique, nappy goatee and tendency to give up titanic innings from time to time?

I say the former. But then again, I'm a Phillies optimist to the point that it doesn't seem that farfetched for Joe Table and his electric blue glove to slip seamlessly back inot 2003 form and go bow-hunting for Omar Vizquel's kids.

A bullpen with Alfonseca, Geary and Myers doing most of the dirty work isn't as bad as it seems, especially when you consider the addition of the potential Wing Bowl champion Matt Zagurski. Or is it worse than it seems, considering that Myers is on the DL and Zagurski is a hot dog or two away from a massive coronary.

And that should Mandy Patinkin ever get wind of Alfonseca's whereabouts, he should probably prepare to die.