Twins catcher Ryan Doumit can’t catch a break. He gets hit by a pitch, and on the way to take the base he earned through his discomfort, he almost gets uprooted by the batboy.
This was obviously some sort of attempt on Doumit’s life. Even the shortest of glances would reveal that this thug is no boy. FanGraphs lists Doumit at 6’1”, making this bat-adult at least 6’3”. This “batboy” is clearly a trained assassin, and if it weren’t for some wet grass, he would’ve used what I can only assume to be poison-laced spikes to inject a neurotoxin into Doumit’s leg, causing sudden paralysis and cardiac arrest. If not for the incompetent grounds crew at U.S. Cellular Field, this Ty Cobb of hired killers would have collected his bounty and retired to a village in – let’s say – Argentina.
Doumit, seemingly aware of the bounty on his head, simply shrugs off this event. This isn’t the first time he’s had a brush with death, and it wouldn’t be the last. His old boss Johnny Three Eyes obviously wasn’t going to stop until one of them was dead. Doumit gives the guerilla an attaboy pat on the behind in recognition of his efforts. It can’t be that easy to infiltrate a major-league ballpark, after all.
Doumit finishes his stroll to first, his mind concocting his next move. Christ, he hadn’t had this much heat on him since he botched that numbers job in Monaco.