I [Couldn't] Care [Less]

It's nice to know that Kevin Gregg is concerned about our health. It really is. I think it is splendid that our closer has gone above and beyond (i.e. swallowing his pride and allowing the world to see that he reads on a 3rd-grade level, and is mildly autistic) to ensure that none of us will perish from a tobacco-related illness.

Yes, Gregg's work with the Tobacco-Free Florida campaign is commendable. Unfortunately, for every life Kevin has spared from a slow, agonizing death from lung cancer, he has caused a dozen or so due to his less-than-valiant efforts on the mound.

The American Heart Association just called, Kev. They'd like you to retire.

According to new research (research being the statistics that sound the most convincing once I make them up in my head), heart attacks, strokes, and other myocardial episodes increase by about 98.76% in South Florida each and every time our dear closer takes the mound. He doesn't even have to throw a pitch--the mere sight of Gregg exiting the bullpen is enough to send our blood pressure skyrocketing, and our chests constricting.

 

Last night's (rare) brilliant effort from Andrew Miller was thrown away in the ninth when Gregg--for what feels like the millionth time in the last two weeks--blew yet another save. It's almost as though he has taken it upon himself to ensure that each and every game is as dramatic as humanly possible. And while I can appreciate a little edge-of-your-seat excitement every now and again, I'd really almost prefer a nice, boring 1-2-3 inning. Call me crazy.

Note to our closer: Walk-off grand slams = cool. Closing games respectably in the top of the ninth to avoid making said walk-off a necessity = much cooler.

In closing (pun intended), I would like to say...Joe Nelson. Just putting it out there.