Okay wait, now hear me out. I SAID HEAR ME OUT. Christ. I put the big idea in the opening and you can’t even wait around to read another paragraph. Fine, go. Who the fuck needs you? I’m sure Aaron Karo’s got a great joke about wash-and-fold laundry you’ll forward to all your friends while this 633-word piece of brilliance gets thrown aside like a hypodermic needle in the 1993 Texas Rangers locker room.
Oh, you’re gonna stay now? Great. I really feel blessed by your presence. You cunt. Anyway, my idea is this: Hank Aaron unretires from baseball and immediately returns as the Tampa Bay Devil Rays’ designated hitter. Boom, sells out the rest of their games this season and becomes the biggest media darling since terrorism.
And better yet, Hank starts to crank out the occasional homer. Imagine getting home from a long day at the proverbial factory, feeding your cat and children, turning on the TV, and hearing this: “Barry Bonds went deep today off Steve Trachsel for home run number 756! Elsewhere, in , Hank Aaron continued his hot streak, hitting his 758th homer and singling into the left-centerfield gap. Trachsel was later killed.”
Wouldn’t that be amazing? Bonds is hanging on by a thread thinner than himself in the Pittsburgh Pirates days. He’s one misplaced clump of grass away from shattering his knee like a coke mirror on Lindsay Lohan’s dashboard. He’s one more steroid injection away from waving goodbye to his testicles like parting lovers at a train station. (He’d be on the train. His testicles would run alongside it waving until they crashed comically into a lamppost.) You’re one more simile or metaphor away from beating me to death like a…nevermind.
Now, you may think there are some flaws in my plan. “Isn’t Hank Aaron like 190 years old?” you ask. And I answer, “No, he’s not. He’s 73. You think exaggerating someone’s age to an impossible level is funny? Well it’s not.” And anyway, Bonds is like 72, so it doesn’t matter. Aaron would play DH, and for the Devil Rays, no less. He could strike out every time he came to the plate and he’d already be ten times better than the rest of the team. I mean, Aubrey Huff was too good for them. Rocco Baldelli looks like DiMaggio there. It’s no pressure.
In 1970, when Aaron was 36, he hit a home run every 3.5 games. So, now that he’s twice that age, using the deductive property of obviousness, we can determine that he’d homer every 7 games. Bonds is averaging a homer every 4 games this season. So assuming that pitchers would bump up the intentional walks on Bonds and groove one out of respect sometimes to Aaron, he should be able to stay ahead of Bonds long enough for another injury to creep along, or at least for steroid accusations to kick into full gear, resulting in a warrant for Bonds’ arrest and lifetime banishment to a savage penal colony in the desert, like in Judge Dredd.
The best thing about this plan, other than that I came up with it, is that everyone wins. The Devil Rays would actually have some games televised in , Aaron would uphold the record he has honorably held for three decades, and Bonds would never again have to talk to the press, who clearly aren’t allowed at the savage penal colony in the desert from Judge Dredd.
Now that I’ve done the legwork, the ball is your court, Mr. Aaron. Try not to swing and miss.