Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Good-Bye, Alex Rodriguez...

After an acrimonious, drawn-out negotiation with Yankees management, which started with "you're outta here" and ended with "you're outta here", Alex Rodriguez was let go on August with the proviso that he does not attempt to re-sign with another team. This was done because of the home run clauses in his contract. The Yankees would be obliged to pay him the bonus money they promised him if he reached any of the plateaus they had agreed upon, which totaled $30 million on top of his already bloated contract. Think of how ridiculous this is, a man who is three dingers shy of the mythical 700 Club not being allowed to go for it. That's really fucked up, but it's as it should be. It's exactly how a man who cheated the game, his fans, and ultimately himself needed to end his ignominious career.

He will collect the remaining loot on his contract and act as an "ambassador, instructor, and special adviser" to the team until next year. Then the affiliation will be over. The money is important, because according to baseball sources, the extra bonuses would have counted against the team's salary cap, and the Yanks weren't having any of that at a time where they are shedding payroll and getting rid of most if not all of their remaining dinosaurs to make room for some new blood. 

After the retirement announcement, manager Joe Girardi sat A-Rod in Boston to make the final humiliation complete. He did play in his last scheduled game, but it was over way before then for this, one baseball's all-time leading pricks. His legacy will be argued over by baseball "purists" for years to come, but we here at "Busting Chops" prefer a different perspective.

Yuri Sucart, Rodriguez's long-time driver and international steroid bagman, received a seven-month prison sentence for his role in the Biogenesis scandal in June of 2015 after pleading to one count of conspiracy to distribute HgH. The story between Sucart and Rodriguez is a bit unsettling, but homeboy was no deer caught in the headlights of a famous professional athlete. While working for Biogenesis as a "buscon" (the word is spanish for "someone who procures"), he actively participated in the steroid distribution ring run by fake doctor Anthony Bosh, who tooted the place as a weight loss and rejuvenation clinic that sold PED's to professional and local high school athletes alike. If the case would have gone to court, Rodriguez would have had to testify. Luckily for him, Yuri didn't have the cash to pay for a lawyer and Rodriguez wasn't about to pay for one when his own legacy was on the line. Not that it matters, but saving even a little bit of face is better for a narcissistic egomaniac than having to tell the world his whole career was based almost exclusively on the use of performance enhancing drugs. 

We then had to witness the the inevitable falling out between Yuri and A-Rod, and it wasn't pretty-

The story told by Yuri's wife is sordid and sad. Rodriguez allegedly came over to their house, threatened them, then pee'ed on a wall of their home. The story from the other side paints a different picture. Supposedly Yuri had attempted to blackmail A-Rod in exchange for keeping quiet. I guess all those years under the employment of one of baseball's richest players didn't pay off for him, because after all this Sucart is supposedly broke. Yuri became ill during this time and needed open-heart surgery. He is currently taking a cocktail of medications for various ailments. In other words, the whole experience with his cousin has left him humiliated (that's if people like this are capable of feeling shame), broke, and fucked up. Now in his early 50's, Yuri is looking at spending his golden years in a state of physical decline that no one would wish on anyone-

Oje, primo! E'toy jodi-oh! Que baina, mi loco!!!

Pobre mi...

A diesel Sucart chillin' like a villain in happier times-

So now Alex Rodriguez gets to sail into the sunset, never having to come clean about a lifetime of steroid usage and his bank account intact. People in baseball land will forgive him. He'll be welcomed into the tv studios at ESPN with open arms, and if he decides being an analyst is what he wants to do, he will be handsomely compensated for it. Cats like Yuri Sucart, on the other hand, will end up flushed down the toilet of life faster than a turd coated in anal lube. This is what happens when you make a Faustian deal with the devil-the ones who need to wind up getting fucked, never ever do. 

So here's to you, A-Rod, for a lifetime of PED-assisted faux entertainment. Here's to all the hypocritical, two-faced interviews you've ever done. Here's to you showing the world that being born talented, handsome, and charming just isn't enough for some people. You had to lie and cheat on top of that. Your disingenuous legacy is right here, alongside a cousin who will never regain his health and will (if he is indeed capable of such introspection) curse the remaining days of his life the moment he ever associated with you. 

So while you, Alex Rodriguez, sit in Casa de Campo in the Dominican Republic with all the other jack-ass celebrities and fawning celebu-whores you so desperately look towards for validation, with a Cuban cigar sticking out of your mouth and a disgusting, sinewy, bleached blond, turtle-lipped bimbo whore at your side, think about how the Yankees were so disgusted with you that they never let you reach the milestone of 700 home runs-because you didn't deserve it. You know it, I know it, and the American people know it. Three shy and never to get there, because you were a dick and managed to find every conceivable manner to disgrace the game you so claim to love. Adios, motherfucker. You were great to make fun of. Your legacy will be that despite there being another asshole just like you right around the corner for us to tear to shreds (because there always is), none will ever do it quite like you.

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