By Alex Rodriguez
Well that went fast! Here we are, already 83 games into my 21st and almost-certainly tainted season in the big leagues and the All-Star break is right around the corner.
Of course, I know you and your hard-earned, legally acquired assets are probably sitting there and thinking how upset ol’ Alex must be at being snubbed for this year’s Midsummer Classic. I mean, if Major League Baseball just let my steroid-stained stats speak for themselves, then come Sunday night me and my anabolically altered body would be boarding my formebolone-financed private jet and heading to Cincinnati so I could play in my 15th All-Star Game.
But worry not, gang, as I’m not getting my prostanozolol-laced panties in a bunch over this one. In fact, I’m perfectly content to spend the upcoming All-Star break with the piles of ill-gotten money I have lying around the penthouse I purchased under false pretenses three or four deceptively negotiated contracts ago.
Sure, it would be great to take one more stenbolone-soaked stroll to the batter’s box at next week’s All-Star game. But you know what’s also going to be great? Relaxing at my oceanfront home and wallowing in the staggering wealth I’ve accumulated thanks to my undying commitment to sidestepping the rules of fair play.
Because if there’s one thing I learned during my season-long performance enhancing drug suspension last year, it’s that there are certain things me and my vast, unscrupulously acquired wealth simply can’t control. I know you might find this hard to believe, but no amount of mesterolone is going to get me on that All-Star roster at this point.
So why worry about it? Especially when I have all this money to spend before me and my unhealthy levels of human growth hormone prematurely say “sayonara” to this world and head off to that big calusterone-covered cloud in the sky?
Perhaps when I tire of lazily napping atop my piles of fraudulently accumulated funds, I’ll spit-shine the array of needles I’ll use to administer my upcoming cycles of illegal drugs? But more likely I’ll roll over, briefly reflect on my tainted legacy and then once again drift off to sleep while nuzzled in the comforting embrace of my illicitly obtained affluence.
But you know what I won’t do? Worry about missing the All-Star game or put on a Major League uniform without some type illegal substance coursing its way through my overtaxed veins.
Because you see, gang, you don’t get to the top of Major League Mountain because you approach the game with a “me first” attitude and an obsession with “earning” your next All-Star appearance. No, you get there because you’re committed to working hard and circumventing the rules by any means necessary as you needlessly seek to build upon your already profound wealth.
So relax your better judgment for just a moment and trust me when I assure you I’m just as committed to both those things as I’ve always been, All-Star snub or no All-Star snub.