I have daddy issues, and a chip on my shoulder
Well, ok, not really. I have beaucoup other issues, sure. But I don't really have the same ones as Milton Bradley.
If it appears we've taken a bit of a siesta, it wasn't intentional. Both mine and Kurt's 'real jobs' have kicked in big time this week, so neither of us had the ability to get out here much. But that will soon change.
Drum roll, please....
Post Season Recaps are coming!!
The Goat Riders of the Apocalypse will jump out here en masse and provide the type of post mortem we are known for. Well, that is, if we ARE known. My dream - that I am going to run into a total stranger someday who reads GROTA - has not come true yet. Hell, if you are a Central Illinois resident, and just happen to be lunching at a Bloomington-Normal establishment, and you notice a guy who looks like a tall, swollen Jim Hendry, take a chance, go up to him, and mention you read GROTA...make my day!
Anyway, we will break down the most miserable 83 win season any of us could have ever envisioned. How DID we win 83? It's a miracle, I tell you. So are we - constant daily content all winter long! Stick with us, leather. We're going places.