On May 19, 2008 the Chicago Sun-Times established an elite journalism school for the top one percent of its columnists. Its purpose was to teach the lost art of homoerotic ramblings and to insure that the handful of men who graduated were the best gay romance novelists in the world.
They succeeded.
Today, the Sun-Times calls it “Credible Sports Writing”.
Jay the Joke calls it: “The Retarded Vagina Monologues”.

I will thank Alfonso Soriano for one thing: He didn’t resort to wearing a gold lamé thong, complete with tiger stripes, as a slump-busting technique. - Jay Mariotti

Maverick: I feel the need…
Maverick, Goose: ...the need for speed!

Such is the exposed secret (Victoria’s) of Jason Giambi, who claims the thong ``works every time’’ and even shares it with struggling New York Yankees teammates, including team captain and sex symbol Derek Jeter.

Iceman: You can be my wingman any time.
Maverick: Bullshit! You can be mine.

Little Leaguers, don’t try this at home.

Wolfman: This gives me a hard on.
Hollywood: Don’t tease me.

Between the G-thong, the blowup dolls of the White Sox and the garter belt worn by Nuke LaLoosh in ``Bull Durham,’’ I can’t explain why ballplayers resort to kinky behavior when they seek karmatic guidance to play the game.

Viper: In case some of you are wondering who the best is they are up here on this plaque.
[turns to Maverick]
Viper: Do you think your name will be on that plaque?
Maverick: Yes sir.
Viper: That’s pretty arrogant, considering the company you’re in.
Maverick: Yes sir.
Viper: I like that in a pilot.

What’s next, going commando following a 1-for-12 series?

Slider: Goose who’s butt did you kiss to get in here anyway?
Goose: The list is long, but distinguished.
Slider: Yeah, well so is my Johnson.

Between that and the traditional Dominican breakfast he brings to the ballpark—plantains, salami and fried egg—he has found a less erotic way of breaking free.

Maverick: This is what I call a target rich environment.
Goose: You live your life between your legs Mav.
Maverick: Goose, even you could get laid in a place like this.

Let others do The Thong Show.

Maverick: Too close for missles, I’m switching to guns.

If this franchise always has been an emotional roller coaster, he is the first car on the tracks now, dipping and darting through darkness and light, making you shriek in delight and wince in nauseous pain.

Merlin: What are you doing? You’re slowing down, you’re slowing down!
Maverick: I’m bringing him in closer, Merlin.
Merlin: You’re gonna do WHAT?

Last spring, he stunk.

Slider: Crashed and burned! Huh, Mav?
Maverick: Hey, Slider.
[sniffs]
Maverick: You stink!

But what’s cool about the guy is that he understands the deal.

Carole: God, he loved flying with you Maverick. But he would’ve done it anyway… without you. He’d have hated it, but he would’ve done it.

Hey Alfonso, it appears that Jay has lost that loving feeling for you.