Rage, okay?

So Boss called me this morning and, for the first time in 8 days, I answered the phone. "Well you're harder to get a hold of than a stick of soap in a greasepit!" My respect for him waned a little in those fleeting seconds but returned when I decided that everyone has the right to sound like a castmember of "Hee Haw" from time to time. At least he didn't "reckon" anything. So when he asked where I'd been, I thought about making something up but eventually confessed that I've been avoiding human contact for various reasons and had no interest in answering the phone. Surprisingly, he understood. But in his understanding, he launched into this tirade about reporters and fans and "those other bastards that just won't leave you alone even though you're your own person with your own family and you have your own things to take care of with life and happiness and your occupation and the phone just keeps ringing and they just keep callin and it won't stop... It just won't stop... ok?" "Yeah." "And there's just no respect for your plan. They think you're an object or that you're their tool. I'm not a pawn goddammit. I'm the King of his board." "Yes, sir, you are." "That's right." "Checkmate and all that!" "......"

I went too far...

After a few moments of silence (caused by the geek manner of my support) we switched to the "what have you been up to" pleasantries. I told him about Arsenal playing like shite and still winning the FA Cup in glorious PK fashion while simultaneously giving the Mancs 1,000 more reasons to lament their existence; the suckage of the 24 finale; and the greatness of "The 4400" - an amazing show (in my humble opinion) that's taken me 3 days to download in full. [Season 2 starts on June 5 on USA] Not a lot has gone on in my life, to say the least. He went on about his family and recruiting and all seemed well. But then he said, "I've been thinking, ok?" FUCK! "We ought to change up the scheduling of the training regimine to maximize all time available." My heart sunk. Whenever we change anything, that means more shit that I've gotta do. I prepared myself to hear that I'd be working 16 hours a day or that conditioning would now start at 5 am with players divided into groups of 10 to heighten the intensity. It's not like my job is hard; I can't even call it "work," but one thing is certain - the hours really do suck a pair. That said, his hours are 100 times worse, so I should probably stop whining. In any case, right before I could respond, he said, "Oh yeah, how's your fantasy team doing?" And that's when I went berserk.

"Ohhh my fantasy team, huh? Let me tell you how that thankless bunch of rat bastards is making their way so far. Assholes. Smack ass pieces of shit. I hate them, I hate all of them." I told him about how I hope to run into Adrian Beltre and his .238 average somewhere in the next week just so he can kiss my ass. And that I'd like to kick Edgar Renteria and his season total 2 homeruns in the face. Though I dealt away JD Drew and Coco Crisp (the night before he went on the DL) for Johnny Damon, I just lost Javy Lopez, the only productive catcher in baseball, to a broken hand. I told him about riding the hot player wave and finding some pretty good steals in free agency. But by the time I was done talking, I realized that I'd said too much. I'd revealed too much hostility and psychosis and surely, he'd tell me to take a vacation from my vacation and that he'd see me in July. But he didn't. "Well you are just a little ball of rage even when off work!!!" "Uh. Yes.. yes I am." "This is fantastic, ok! You keep playing in your league. Get in more leagues." "What?" "I want that rage at conditioning, ok? I don't want you to have to build back up to it." I didn't say anything but he continued. "I wondered if being at home would soften you up but it hasn't at all! You're as pissed now as you were in the final training session!" It's safe to say that Boss, having known me for only 6 months, still doesn't know me that well. "Just great, just great. I want that fire at camp, ready to break some asses, make some tears, and motivate motivate motivate....... ok?!?!" "Ok." "OKAY?!?!?!?" "OK!!!!!!!!" "I'll talk to ya later little Flash. GET IN MORE LEAGUES!!! Keep that internal fire burning! You are just great!"

*Click*

I don't know if I should fill him in on the fact that I'd get this pissed if my stick of Doublemint lost its flavor but I'll save that for another day. For now, I guess I'll find some mid-season fantasy leagues to join.