Bitter Cynical Rants from One as Snarky as Waldorf and As Sexy as Statler.

Wednesday, March 03, 2004

And you really expect us to believe that you're not gay?

Mike Piazza, you've just started spring training as a first baseman. Where you are you going to celebrate?

I'm going to New Paltz, with my new, erm, trainer, for, erm, vacation

From today's New York Times:

As Piazza walks from one field to another at the Mets' complex, a lanky, scruffy man follows closely behind, carrying a bag of apples, a bag of seeds, a gallon of water and a jug of his trademark juice. He pours it into small bottles for Piazza, quickly reminds him to stretch some more, then fades into the background...

Bourell, 31, has no specific title and no permanent residence, but he is living with Piazza at his house during spring training. He is working as his yoga instructor, nutritionist, herbalist, masseur, healer and guru. Piazza, truly a superstar for the new age, calls Bourell "my yogi."

...The first time Bourell met Piazza — in Los Angeles, not surprisingly — Bourell noticed something was wrong with Piazza's posture. He determined that Piazza's right calf became contorted when he dropped into his catcher's crouch and that the arches of his feet collapsed inward. Bourell said the groin muscle injury resulted from a strain in the tendons on the right side of Piazza's body and could have been prevented with more stretching.


Deny it all you want Mikey, but you're flaming with a capital queen. Its time you sang a little Barbra, or some Judy from the mountaintops. I promise you'll breathe better.

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