Willie Davis, 69. Was some kind of ballplayer.

[satan's twin]

Originally Posted by Kasept

He was the Joey Belle of his era.

1998, my old man is dying of cancer. He's down to his last few days and is getting hospice care (copious amounts of morphine on demand) at home. Different members of our family are with him 24/7 on the death watch. Absolutely the last time I sat with my pop when he was alive was a Saturday afternoon in April. The White Sox are on the tube and I'm watching and he's sleeping.

The year before this the Sox spent a king's ransom to get that *******, Albert "Joey" Belle,for 10 million a year. Huge mistake. The guy was an even bigger turd than advertised. First year he was great, the second year he was a disaster. Besides his diminished skills, what was most apparent about him was that he was genuinely insane. Almost on a weekly basis there was a new revelation about some some altercation or a domestic dispute involving this lunatic away from the ballpark. Since the sportswriters had always been the first to catch his wrath in the best of times when he was a productive player, they were the first to unload on this creep every chance they got. And in 1998, they dropped the house on him. Within days, even the most loyal of his fans wanted him gone. And the louder the boos, the less productive he became.

The day I'm sitting with my dad, the White Sox load the bases with no outs. The next guy out strikes out. Still, we have a chance for a big inning. Up comes Albert Belle. He milks the count to 3 and O. The pitcher hasn't got a clue where the ball is going. All Belle has to do is leave the bat on his shoulder and this pig walks him in and the line starts moving. Big inning coming, baby! What's this jag do? He swings on 3 and 0 and dribbles the ball to short for an inning-ending double play. "Goddammit" I scream. Suddenly, my pop is startled awake by my yelling. It's literally the first time he's been awake in a week. I thought he'd fall back asleep immediately being in that dope-induced state. Instead, he just stared at me for several moments. With all his strength he starts speaking, but his voice was reduced to a whisper. I can't make out a word of what he is saying. He tried speaking again. Same thing. I don't hear a word. He motions his hand for me to come closer. Suddenly it hits me. He's about to die and he's going to speak to me for the last time. God, give me strength. My dad is about to pass the secret of life to his son before he passes away. I tense and momentarily freeze. I clear my head so I'm sure I remember his every word. This is one of those seminal moments in life I will never forget. One day I will be in the same place no doubt passing on the same information I'm about to receive to my children on my deathbed. I braced myself as I lowered my ear to within an inch of his lips to hear those last precious words. With all his strength my old man whispered those pearls of wisdom I will never forget. "We gotta get rid of that ****ing Albert Belle".