Op-Ed from Joe Borowski

I had nothing. I was stuck in one gear.

Hi, my name is Joe. I currently am the "closer" for the Cleveland Indians. I use the quotes, because currently I am unable to close any games. As most Indians fans know by now, watching me "close" is not dissimilar to suffering a minor coronary. I like to mix it up from time to time. Last night (April 14th), for example, I would liken watching my "performance" to having a mafia surgeon removing your testicles in a mob safe house with no anesthetic and only a rusty spatula for tools.

I met with Tribe manager Eric Wedge, General Manager Mark Shapiro and the team's medical staff after the game to discuss the condition of my right arm and shoulder. I told the papers: I hope we can pinpoint something. Right now, it's driving me crazy. I'm grasping at straws. Maybe it's something. Maybe it's nothing.

Don't be confused, Tribe fans. It clearly is something. It's the big bag of SUCK I've been carrying around off and on for my entire Tribe tenure. Sure, I saved 45 games last year, but every Tribe fan received an additional 6% coronary artery blockage and an average of 14 additional grey hairs. I'm the gift that keeps on giving!

Did you see the pitch I threw to Manny Ramirez last night? "It seemed like a fastball," Manny said. "It was something like 80 mph. Maybe it was change-up. It was right there."

I never guessed that arguably THE BEST RIGHT HANDED HITTER IN THE HISTORY OF BASEBALL would be able to catch up to my 80-mph heat, right down the middle, belt high, in a tie game with two outs and a SLOW runner on. Whereas most pitchers probably wouldn't give him anything to hit, I'm a crafty veteran. I went against the trend of "don't let their best fucking hitter beat you, asshole!" and decided he'd never see it coming if I challenged him. Sadly, I didn't realize that, since he's arguably THE BEST RIGHT HANDED HITTER IN THE HISTORY OF BASEBALL he'd be able to recognize my 80-mph grapefruit, calibrate his then-492-career-home-runs bat, and neuter the ball into the left-field bleachers. It was almost like he was waiting for it. My bad. I'll get him next time.

To sum up, Tribe fans, sorry about that. Fuck me in the beard.