Folks, we’re sorry.

We’ve been the Eric Bruntlett of blogs lately, and that just ain’t cool.

There are any number of reasons as to how and why this happened. The Phillies stunk on ice for a while, and that shit is depressing enough without writing about it. Ryan lost his job a while back. I moved for the sixth (!) time in 15 months, and my grandfather passed. Liney’s been swamped by thesis defense and doing whatever it is that assistant GMs of soccer clubs do, which I am assuming involves a lot of penis. Chris has tripped and fallen over the first of 12 steps so often that AA kicked him out. And A Team…that turncoat bastard got himself a cushy gig writing for The Hardball Times and left us. He did not turn around, to see our hearts breaking. We didn’t want him to see us cry, anyway. Actually, we were all planning to step on one another to reach infinitesimal Internet fame, and just pissed that he beat us to the punch.

However, I have made it my mission to get things rolling around here again. Chris has hiccuped assent. Together, we will lead this blog into a glorious new age of prosperity and wonderment, an age where posts appear more than once or twice a month.

To show how much we mean business, I will invoke the most sacred rite I know.

I’m off to scream Meech’s name from the top of a mountain that I climbed in tennis shoes.