Halladay to Peavy: “Grow a pair”

Hey Jake, this is your buddy Roy Halladay. Remember? We met at the all-star game a few times. You were iceing your elbow and drinking Mai-Tais in the lockeroom after pregame warm-ups while I squat-thrusted 500 lb dumbbells. I don’t know if you noticed, but I did over 500 reps. Why? Because I am a man.

I heard your team tried to trade you to the White Sox yesterday. But you turned it down with your no-trade clause because of your long-held aversion to playing in the American League. Why is that Jake? Are you afraid your meager pitching skills won’t hold up in a man’s league. Is your ERA dependant on getting that free out every 8 batters? Or are you that in love with a Padres team that lost 100 games last year and is desperately trying to rebuild. Why won’t you let them rebuild? Your contract is clearly the millstone holding back their efforts.

Why won’t you let your team move on? I think I know why. Fear.

I felt fear once. I was camping with my family in Manitoba (that’s where I vacation, because I live in fucking Canada because I play for the Blue Jays). We were setting up camp when a 800 pound grizzly bear wandered into our camp. I could tell he was trouble because he had a manic, starved look in his eye. Before he could grasp my wife in his swarthy mandibles, I was able to wrestle the poor bear to the ground and submit it. By hand. That bear is now my family pet. I even take him on the plane for road games. I don’t even have a cage and he cleans up his own poo. His name is Harold and he fetches the paper. Why? Because I am a man.

You’ve built a reputation over the years as one of baseballs most dominant pitchers. Unfortunately this whole trade debacle is like a hurricane bearing down on the desperate house of cards your career is. You’ve always pitched half your games at Petco Park. BY FAR the friendliest park to pitchers. You’ve also feasted on the pathetic excuse for offense of the National League, especially the NL West. And now that you have the opportunity to go to a big man’s league, play for a team with a team trying to win and play in the third biggest media market in the country, what do you do?

You retreat to your beachside villa. You sit your wife and children down and say, “You know what guys? Daddy isn’t a ‘competitor’. He’d rather prosper at the expense of his teammates’ development, continue padding his career stats and never transcend his own talent. The status quo is quite all right for your old man. I’m sort of a pussy like that.”

Sure. You’ve got a nice life. I understand that. What you don’t have is WILL. That’s what separates the greats from footnotes in history. I live in Canada. DO you have any idea how much that sucks? I also pitch in the AL East. That means, roughly every five days, I wake up and have to think “All right, game day, how am I going to pitch to one of the three most dominant offenses in the history of baseball”. Every couple starts I face the Red Sox, the Yankees, or this new Rays team. Do you know what that’s like? Can you imagine what my career numbers would be like if I pitched in Petco vs the Giants? I had to stare down Ortiz and Manny, in Fenway, when you could still see the needles poking out of their asses! This whole time, the Blue Jays have been on the cusp of being a solid team. Hell, for a couple years we could have won any other division in baseball. But against the two biggest payrolls in the history of sports, we couldn’t keep up. But do I complain? Do I bitch? Do I demand a trade to a “contender”? No. I go out every five days. And I pitch my heart out. I pitch like it’s the last game of my career. I pitch like my family is on the line. And I pitch great. I’m like Walter Fucking Johnson. I pitch complete games in my sleep. When was your last complete game? Never? Fuck you. Grow a pair.

- Roy

P.S. Go Nuggies (because i am from Colorado)