Jeff Francoeur continues his swell relationship with A’s fans.
The Braves 1995 Championship Team portrait hung above the faux fireplace. In front, the Phanatic Rug lay on the floor. The portrait recessed into the wall giving way to the LED 71″ screen. It lit up, and 16 different pictures in a grid showed the various events of Baseball. Ozzie Guillen was crying in front of the press in one screen. Another showed highlights of Jonathan Broxton’s meltdown, and the top right counter was showing the Red Sox’s woes and flummoxed Bobby Valentine giving a press conference.
A middle square lit up with Tiffany Simons. “Morning Craig, what topics do you have for me to include in HBT Extra?”
Craig, sitting in his high chair, bubble pipe in hand, bathrobe tidy, answered: “I want to piece on Jeff Francoeur.”
Tiffany did a double take. “THE Jeff Francoeur? The failed Braves superstar? The guy you can’t stand at all?”
“Oh, I’ve mellowed a bit and have had chance at perspective this last year. He’s not really such a bad guy. Sure there were high expectations. But these things happen all the time in baseball. It’s time to accept Frenchy for the player and person he is and not the one we wanted him to be.”
Tiffany looked at Craig sharply. “He sent you Pizza didn’t he?”
Craig, pursed his lips and denied it. “No, of course not. I’m a professional, I do my analysis and reporting based on events on and off the field…”
Craig’s foot was oh so casually pushing a pizza box under the Phanatic Rug…
I almost did a bobblehead post… but this seemed better. I wish someone would send ME pizza… (sigh)