Rumors have been fluttering around about a strain in Cliff Lee’s side. Well, no need to worry, fellow phans. Cliff says the injury is completely gone and the trainers have cleared him 100%. Crisis Averted. As for the original injury itself, Cliff said he suffered it during the offseason. Little is known about how he got this injury, some say it was having a casual catch, but we know those are all lies and cover-ups. Here’s how I think it really went down:
Cliff started his day just like any other…at around 2:30pm surrounded by naked women and empty bottles of Cristal. He stumbles into his kitchen looking for any liquid that will cure the throbbing in his temples. As he shields his eyes from the rays of lights that are piercing through the kitchen, he spots a flash scatter into the living room. He looks up to see a member of the Reyesleonis (a rival Italian mob to the Lee’s) try to scamper away with his Remington 870 shotgun. “Not again”, Cliff mutters under his breath with a fierceness that would make Sylvester Stallone shit in his pants. He grabs the nearest kitchen knife and follows pursuit. He catches up to the intruder just before he reaches the door and slices at his knee with the blade. The cut is clean and deep. In his anguish, the mobster lets of a shot that echoes throughout the dense forest of Cliff’s private island in the Maldives. Alerted by the sound, 3 more mobsters run to the aid of their fallen foe. Lee has his knee pushed into the chest of the shotgun-wielding thug, but before he can even open his mouth, a shot rings by his ear. Cliff looks up and produces a stare that freezes the 3 oncoming enemies in their places. Some say the stare of Cliff in comparable to the gaze of the dreaded Medusa, but I know one thing, I wouldn’t want to know from experience. “Looks like it’s time for some…heavy artillery”, Lee exclaims way too dramatically. He throws the cushions off the couch and pulls out a RPG he keeps in his house solely for entertainment purposes. By this time, the injured intruder has crawled his tattered body half-way out to the lawn where his accomplices are hurriedly helping him away. When they see Cliff standing in the doorway with his weapon they scream in terror. Cliff aims. Cliff fires. Cliff destroys. “Looks like their Italian sausage will be *puts on sunglasses* extra crispy,” Cliff says defiantly.
He then walks back into his house and reaches down to pick up one of the pillows that were thrown askew in the fray and feels an awkward twitch in his side. “Huh”, he grunts, “I should probably get the trainers to check that out.”