Sometimes we read/see things that we never ever want to see. A grandparent in an advanced state of undress. "Surprise Test Today" on the blackboard. That really old guy at the gym who likes to walk around naked waaay too much. A player on your childhood favorite team wearing a gold lamé, tiger-stripe thong. That same player sharing the thong with teammates.
Then I fell upon this and I'm now scarred. And scared.
The deepest, darkest secret harbored by the New York Yankees first baseman is that whenever he is in a prolonged hitting funk, he wears a gold lamé, tiger-stripe thong under his uniform. "I only put it on when I'm desperate to get out of a big slump," he confides.
Over Giambi's checkered career in the Bronx, he has left the "golden thong" in the lockers of slumping teammates Derek Jeter, Bernie Williams, Johnny Damon, Robin Ventura, and Robinson Cano. "All of them wore it and got hits," he reports. "The thong works every time."
Great googly moogly. I wish I never ever read that as I now have images in my head I never ever wished to have. I've heard of slump-busting but nothing like this.
That's what I get for reading this stuff on a rainy, nasty Friday night and the Yanks are mired in last place.
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