After going 4-for-4 with a homer against the Washington Nationals Tuesday night, the Chicago Cubs outfielder complained that he’s felt some animosity "when [he] doesn’t get a hit and gets booed every time" during his rough (to say the least) first season in the windy city.
Let's get straight to the dramatics. He actually said this:
When I go home and look in the mirror, I like what I see. My family is there I have people I can talk to who are very supportive, in spite of everything and all the adversity and the hatred you face on a daily basis. But I’ll be all right. I always have.
MB, you are anything but 'alright.' See: Voodoo Sabermetrics.
Wednesday, when Bradley was asked to elaborate, he obliged:
I’m talking about hatred, period. I’m talking about when I go to eat at a restaurant. I’ve got to listen to the waiters badmouthing me at another table, sitting in a restaurant. That’s what I’m talking about. Everything.He went on to say that he prays the games don't go into extra innings so he can just go home. That's a shame since I'm sure there are at least a few minor league outfielders who could out-hit him any day of the week just dying to get the call. Which brings me to this open letter.
Dear Milton Bradley,
The waiters don't hate you, they just think you suck at baseball. That's not exactly true, even though you're batting just .257 with 10 homers and 34 RBIs, but you've always been an easy scapegoat. You're not used to that yet? Embrace it!
You're not exactly enjoying an award-winnning year, either. Everyone struggles from time to time... your battle just so happens to be lasting all season long apparently. My point is this: shut your mouth, show some gratitude, pull up your panties, and play the game.
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