My husband, the ever-enchanting Mr. Curveball, has been taunting me all weekend by coming up to me while I'm busy cooking or engrossed in a t.v. program and giving me "updates" about the Santana trade situation. The only problem is his updates are highly exaggerated and contain only a small kernal of truth. Of course, he offers up that kernal first so I'm hooked and think I'm about to hear that Santana is gone.
When, and if, it does really happen...well, I am going to be in one foul mood. Wednesday is my birthday and a Santana trade is not on my Wish list.
Frankly, I don't really want to contemplate any potential trades until it's a done deal. I'd rather dig my head in the snow and remember the joy of watching Santana pitch (ah, that little butt wiggle).
And for pete's sake, don't trade him to the Yankees!
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