Lerrin LaGrow
The Detroit Tigers are currently battling the Oakland A’s in a playoff series for the first time since Bert Campaneris spiced up an otherwise forgettable 1972 series by tomahawking his bat in the direction of Lerrin LaGrow’s head. The incident prompted Tigers manager Billy Martin, long renowned for his gentlemanly demeanor and even-keeled temperament, to calmly step onto the field of play and politely interview Campaneris on his reasons for taking such an unusual course of action. After a period of spirited but highly respectful discussion, Campaneris and Martin agreed to accept their differences as invigorating evidence of the world’s rich tapestry of cultural and intellectual diversity. Some reports of the incident went to great lengths to capture Martin’s enthusiasm for this debate and all suchlike debates in general by stating in highly exaggerated and clearly figurative terms that he had to be "dragged screaming" from the presence of his esteemed conversational partner.
While there is no official consensus on the impact of this incident on the pitcher who sparked it by drilling Campaneris in the ankle, this 1976 card seems to suggest that the gradual but relentless impact of having narrowly avoided being brained by a Louisville Slugger may have edged Lerrin LaGrow in the direction of the black arts. As one who was simultaneously bored, confused, and creeped out by the Dr. Strange comics that Lerrin LaGrow apparently fell under the spell of, I am not qualified to comment on this with any authority, but my guess is that he has just uttered something along the lines of "By the hoary hosts of hoggoth" and is now attempting by hypnosis to shatter the mind of the photographer who hath deigned to try to capture his image with his mechanism of nefarious modernity.
While there is no official consensus on the impact of this incident on the pitcher who sparked it by drilling Campaneris in the ankle, this 1976 card seems to suggest that the gradual but relentless impact of having narrowly avoided being brained by a Louisville Slugger may have edged Lerrin LaGrow in the direction of the black arts. As one who was simultaneously bored, confused, and creeped out by the Dr. Strange comics that Lerrin LaGrow apparently fell under the spell of, I am not qualified to comment on this with any authority, but my guess is that he has just uttered something along the lines of "By the hoary hosts of hoggoth" and is now attempting by hypnosis to shatter the mind of the photographer who hath deigned to try to capture his image with his mechanism of nefarious modernity.
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