The Yankees didn't know it at the time, but they signed a cat man. Half-man, half-cat. He is what you will see when you close your eyes tonight.
I talked to a few of his new teammates off the record. Some comments:
- "It's like, if he's just going to throw it up in the dugout, why eat the outfield grass in the first place? But he ... keeps ... eating ... it ... like an idiot."
- "I roomed with him the first week. At five in the morning, he was sitting at the foot of my bed, yelling, 'I'm hungry, dammit! I'm hungry, dammit!' It took room service 30 minutes to get there, but he was quiet after that. I slept in the tub."
- "He said, 'I'm the anti-Adrian Beltre. I loooove getting my head touched,' and he took off his helmet. Then he leaned back into my hand. What the hell was I supposed to do? I'm just a rookie, man."
- "He was there for two hours before he literally buried his shit under the warning track and hopped over the right-field fence."
We'll always remember human Carlos Beltran instead of this cat-man abomination. Stay strong, Beltran family. Stay strong.