Tricks of the Devil & Womanish Surrender

As my preseasonings have progressed, I have let my play do my speaking for me. And to be sure, my estadísticas have been most articulate!

As for myself, I don’t wish to prattle further about my earlier stated wish to return to España.

Yes, I dream of Barcelona, Madrid, and Mallorca nightly. Yes, I sometimes sit bolt-upright in bed speaking Catalan. But the trademark of a professional athlete is that he then returns to slumber without calling his agent and insisting on a trade.

So for the last time, I don’t want to talk about it!

But if I were to do so, I would say that it is not my task to inform the media of my every emotions. In the history of men, it is glorious action that provides all lessons for posterity. Do we need to know how El Cid felt when his conquest of Valencia was complete? Would it magnify the glory of Caesar to have a record of his sentiments when the assassins’ knives pierced his body?

Actually, that might be of interest! Nonetheless, emotions are but tricks of the devil, sent to tempt us into doubt. No man of sense (por ejemplo, Andre Miller) pays them heed, for they are a surrender to womanish sentiment that should be concealed from the media if they cannot be suppressed in the heart.

For I say, it is the task of every athlete —El Machetero included— to overcome our passions, not to trot them out in all their intensities for others to comment upon!

P.S. Mamá, how I miss you!

Bottom two fotos from the Oregonian.