I'd like to take a moment to speak about the ancient wonders of old man Jamie Moyer. At the ripe young age of 47, he's somehow still being trotted out to the mound every fifth day. No matter that his heater clocks in at a thunderous 80mph, this old dude still maintains when there are latin multitudes clamoring to criddle his slot.
Who knows what brands of holy water this man of mysteries is consuming? How does he stay so fresh as his flesh fades to gray? Never mind the fact that Satchel Paige pitched until he was 59 (supposedly, who knows how old that dude really was), this is in the here and now. Blood of virgins? Alien ectoplasm cocktails? What's Moyer's secret? Randy Johnson has fallen by the wayside, how much longer can Moyer wheeze the juice?
I for one am pulling for the guy. His career has spanned the beginnings and ends of a whole generation of players and the fucker is still going. Have at em grandpappy, and make it snappy like a bum that's clappy.
