Done right, it is more than mere science. It is the solution to the unified field conundrum and the discovery of the first even integer of π.

Dan Lozano: “Ladies and gentlemen of the media, it’s time…Albert Pujols has officially made his decision.

**The crowd goes nuts as each reports clamor over one another trying to be “the reporter who asked the question.” All the while Lozano is still grinning from ear to ear and lets out a bemused chuckle as the fray continues.**

Dan Lozano: “Let me answer all your questions…with this…”

**Lozano holds up four fingers and then lets out a loud, uproarious WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! At just that moment ” Also sprach Zarathustra” by Richard Strauss blasts over the PA system and the crowd looks around in stunned silence.**

Dan Lozano: “That’s right baby…wooooooooooooo!!”

**Pujols steps out from behind the curtain wearing a bright red, ornate robe with his name in fancy script along the back. Standing beside him, in a powder blue, three-piece suit of his own is none other than “The Nature Boy” Ric Flair.**

Buster Olney: “Is that Pujols’ grandpa? I’m gonna tweet that it is…”
Jon Heyman: “This…this can’t be!”
Craig Calcaterra: “Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!”
Ken Rosenthal: “I literally have no idea what’s happening right now.”

**Pujols and Flair step up to the podium and before Pujols can say anything, Flair snatches the microphone away.**

Ric Flair: “Wooooooooooooooooooooooo!!! Dallas, Texas. The Lonestar State. Well, the “Nature Boy” just went out and bet himself the biggest star…WOOOOOOOOOO…in this entire industry, pal. Albert-By-God-Pujols, baby. The man. There’s no one better in the game today. He can hit. He can field. He can sell Wheaties. Hahahaha and Jack…that’s what it’s all about. To be the man, wooooooooo, you gotta beat the man. I’m sayin’ WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…right here in Dallas, Texas, baby…he’s the man.”

**Most of the media contingent looks around at one another, trying to grasp the situation at hand.**

Joel Sherman: “I’m sorry…maybe I missed something, are you Bill DeWitt?”
Ric Flair: “Whether you like it…or don’t like it…sit down and look at it, because it’s the Best. Thing. Going. Today. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”
Joel Sherman: “…that, um, doesn’t really answer my question.”
Ric Flair: “WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! Space Mountain, baby!!”

**Lozano steps back up to the podium and wrestles the microphone away from Flair to give a more coherent explanation to the crowd.**

Dan Lozano: “What Mr. Flair is trying to say is that my client has signed on with The Four Horsemen.
Jon Heyman: “…like, the Broncos?”
Ric Flair: “No, Dummy. Like the Horsemen, the most dominant group in the world.”
Jon Heyman: “I think I’m lost here…”

**Pujols grabs the microphone himself and stairs off into the crowd for a moment before addressing the hundreds…and hundreds of reporters typing his name.**

Albert Pujols: “It’s like this, I’m a winner. I ride with winners. The Marlins? The Cubs? The Cardinals? Come on, baby…if it ain’t the Yankees what’s the point? So I looked around and saw that the options were pretty limited and then Ric came calling. He said he’d make me a star. Said he’d make me more money than I’d ever dreamed. All I had to do, was ride with the Horsemen.”

**Pujols flashes four fingers to the crowd and walks off dropping the microphone.**

You Can Smell Our Pits From Miles Away

You don’t really see much of the agents to be honest, they tend to keep themselves to themselves. If they are worse though, you’re absolutely right. Last year we had players sleeping with teamates partners, with their own siblings’ partners, and throughout the league I’d wager that the money they collaboratively blew on hookers could’ve killed the debt of a few 3rd world countries…

If the players are as sleazy as Lozano, what are their agents like? The idea that there could be a slimier species could make a good sci-fi horror movie.

That sure looks good, maybe I’ll fire the smoker and throw a brisket on this weekend. Haven’t done beef in about a month. Mmmmm

Enough with the winter meetings. Let Pujols stretch his gambit as long as he wants; he’s irrelevant in Macondo now. Let Wilson go to the Angels. Enough with the throwing cash around; it’s gotten old. Now it’s time to wheel and deal. Let the games begin.