Section 242 sent me a link to a story about Rick Sutcliffe’s battle with colon cancer. I’m sure he and his family could use the prayers. Good luck, Rick. You’re one of my favorite Cub pitchers of all time, and a guy with whom I’d like to share a beer.
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Indeed.
Man, that sucks.
Well I don’t pray, but I will say that I hope he beats this thing. I can’t believe how positive he is about it. It’s pretty inspiring stuff. Good for him.
Colon cancer killed my dad. I’ve lost several friends – far, far too young – to different kinds of cancer.
Cancer, in a word, sucks.
I’m behind you Rick, and anyone else out there that is battling any kind of cancer. I will be behind any you as you scream a gigantic “FUCK YOU!” to your disease, and if you are too weak right now to do it, give me a call, and I’ll be happy to do it for you.
Sorry to hear that, RedBeard. My grandfather’s colon cancer has spread to his bones, and his outlook is obviously not good. Your comment made me smile, as I was very tempted to end the post with, “Fuck you, cancer.”
Just last month, my girlfriend and I watched her grandmother waste away due to lung cancer (she hadn’t had a cigarette since 1965).
Fuck you, cancer.
it just killed my next door neighbor, 49 with three kids at home, she was a special-ed teacher for 27 years, and was one of these sunny-side-up cheerleader types.
Fuck you in the fucking ass, cancer.
As I probably mentioned before, a buddy of mine at work’s 9 month old daughter was diagnosed with leukemia last week. She’s doing very well and already has it all out of her blood, but the next two years of her life will be a series of chemotherapy, harsh meds, steroids and spinal taps, to make sure it’s all gone.
Fuck cancer indeed.
Getv well, Sut. ’84 was a goddamn treat, even if you turned out 1 game short.
Fuck Cancer.
Redbeard, you were a great pitcher – now I hope you battle the C as well.
Everybody, I suspect most of you are well under 50. When you are 50, if not before, make sure you get the ol’ camera-in-the-butt thing. Maybe by the time the rest of you are fifty, the technology won’t be so invasive.
Love the Red Baron. 16-1 in the magical drunken year called 1984. Thoughts and prayers.
I’ve lost several relatives to cancer. Kick its fucking ass, Baron. And give it a kick in the nuts for my grandpa, who was a Cub fan who didn’ live to see your run in ’84.