According to various media outlets, Jered Weaver became slightly irked with Carlos Guillen last Sunday when Guillen hit a two-run home run off of him.
And it's true, he did appear more than "slightly irked". I mean, from the looks of it, if that was Weaver mildly perturbed, then when he really becomes angry, he probably has smoke pouring out of his ears while his skin slowly turns to an oil-based green.
And at 6' 7" tall, that requires tons of green paint. It's messy, it's expensive, and half the time when he gets the paint on all the way he's not even mad anymore.
Weaver wasn't really upset at all. Truth be told, he and Guillen were just talking baseball trades initially, then it quickly turned to dinner plans—as baseball talk so often does.
Basically, the media and everyone else got this entire story completely wrong. Truthfully, Weaver wasn't mad at Guillen at all. And Guillen wasn't "staring down" Weaver to intimidate him, or to "show him up".
Weaver is a team-first kind of guy. He's also a hardcore baseball fan. That sounds dumb, because he's a professional baseball player—of course he loves baseball, right?
Trust me, not all ball players follow the game as intently as Weaver. Okay, here's the real story of what happened on that balmy Sunday afternoon in Detroit.
Weaver, moments before Carlos Guillen's home run to right field, strolled behind the pitching mound and bent down to get the rosin bag.
C'mon, look closer, that's no rosin bag! It's an iPhone 4 made to look like a rosin bag—how else can you check your MLBtraderumors.com updates while pitching?
See? I told you! Weaver is a hardcore baseball junkie. And a wealthy one too. I mean, the technology alone to create a rosin bag/phone...well there's something only a big league salary could afford.
Anyhow, he picks up his well disguised phone to see how the Angels are doing in their pursuit of Heath Bell—he checks his Twitter account and sees that Ken Rosenthal has tweeted that Bell is now a Texas Ranger.
Somewhat disheveled by this news, Weaver takes a moment to collect himself. He then grooves a pitch to Guillen. Guillen swings and connects on a home run of the "no doubt" variety.
Weaver now knows that he'll have a few moments to check his phone again for more crucial Trade Deadline information.
Still at the dish, Guillen, like Ordonez earlier, watched his home run, just to make sure it didn't go foul. I mean, that's just smart baseball. He over hears Weaver's statement.
Guillen: "What was that Weaver? Adams went where?" A few minutes after his query, Guillen figured he'd better start to jog or his teammates might think he pulled a hamstring or had a stroke or something.
Weaver, still looking down at his phone, looks up and tries to flash the information to Guillen.
Initially Guillen thought that Weaver was talking to a sock puppet of some sort. Guillen turned to face Weaver for better viewing of the tall man gone completely insane.
Once eye-to-eye and within ear shot, Guillen can now see the iPhone screen poking out of the rosin bag. Guillen gets a strange look on his face. You would too. He thinks: "That is no sock puppet! That is insider information!"
Guillen silently absorbed the information about the trade and continued on around first base.
Weaver, an excellent communicator, wanted to make sure that Guillen understood this red-hot news tip. So, he yelled "Mike Adams! Rangers!" a couple of times.
Once Guillen got back in the dugout, he wanted to thank Weaver for that juicy tidbit. Guillen was grateful for the message, and to show his gratitude to Weaver, he emphatically invited him to have "duck soup" at his house for dinner.
Because the noise level at a ball game can be quite loud, Guillen screamed: "Hey Weaver! DUCK SOUP!" Just to make sure that their dinner plans were set in stone. No one wants to waste duck soup, after all.
Weaver replied, "Guillen! DUCK SOUP, DUCK SOUP sounds great to me TOO!"
And next up was Alex Avila.
Now, Jered Weaver was already a little hungry. And ever since Guillen's delicious suggestion, Weaver's hands began to shake with unmitigated hunger.
Playing baseball at an elite level while starving can be a real challenge.
There is only one man who can perform at this high level while famished, and that man is Prince Fielder, who is always hungry.
Duck soup cravings run mighty deep, as we can all attest to. Weaver, understandably, lost the grip on his fastball, causing it to sail over Avila's head.
Home plate umpire, Hunter Wendelstedt (real name, believe it or not), didn't even notice the errant pitch. He had finally worked up the courage to ask Weaver if he could join them later for the delicious dish at Guillen's home.
Sometimes, when you truly share a passion with someone else, you can communicate this mutual affection without the benefit of words. Wendelstedt knew that his umpire's mask might conceal his telling eyes—thus he flung it off erotically like a bathing beauty freeing her golden locks from the shackles of her water cap.
Dude, it was intense.
Jered Weaver met the crew chief's gaze and instantly made the connection. For he is a man who loves those who love duck soup. He ecstatically screamed: "You like Duck Soup too?"
Wendelstedt thought Weaver had said something else, so he tossed him from the game.
Umpires can be so dang sensitive sometimes, especially when they're hungry.
And that, my friends, is how it really went down.
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