but we need our monster
Some damn fine writing by Steve, once again.
His needs were the same; food, shelter, and a sense of belonging. Only the means to get them had changed; from a luxury vagabond lifestyle of servants and leer jets, 7 star hotels, paparazzi lights to fishing for crunchy bugs in back alleys to liven up his sewer soup.
He was unaware of the great fall he had endured and in many ways, nothing had really changed for Spuds Dembrooke. He was still self-absorbed, still hated, and still hoping to piss people off. It was his way of receiving affection and love. The packed stadiums of hysterical boos had turned to itinerants with blades, oily puddles behind saloons, but the emotion sounded the same to Spuds. He worked the crowd.
He once had it all; was a hero to everyone. He defied specialization as the first pitcher since Babe Ruth to also bat clean up. He enjoyed no rest days between starts, playing
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