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Midnight Baseball

Many of you have started reading this week. Thanks!

I like to construct narratives around my fantasy team, which currently operates under the name Goldschmidt’s Gold Shit. This was the dumb logo.

It’s a keeper league and I don’t think I’m gonna change it soon.

Behemoth slugger Paul Goldschmidt didn’t ascend to team leadership until early August, when he kicked Josh Reddick (and his Red Dick [SFW]) out of the clubhouse in a verbal altercation, his booming baritone resonating throughout the bowels of the stadium and every fan in it. You see, Reddick had been spending too much time at nighttime clubs, wielding his favorite toy and namesake, leaving himself depleted come gametime. Things all came to a head when Marco Scutaro screamed at Reddick in frustration, expressing incidentally some long-held and deep-seated ethno-linguistic tensions felt by pretty much everyone on the team, normally neglected in the daily performance…

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