ZITOMANIA: HOLLYWOOD STYLE!!!!!

[Author's Note: I went to a Los Angeles Dodgers game on Friday. The bastion of cruelty that is the Dodgers waited until 80 minute before the first pitch to open the Stadium,  and prohibited the Padre (Catholic) and I from getting autographs from our favorite megalomaniac baseball superstars. Since the heathen Dodgers were playing the apathetic Giants O' San Francisco, we were blessed with seeing Barry Zito, the official baseball player of the NewHindenburg, pitch in a real live major league game. 

Whether you love or hate sports Zito's story is a tale for you. It is a tale of pure humanity. Though best described by Pat Jordan, I will try to give a peanut shell of his career. Barry was a decent prep pitcher as groomed by his father. His vaunted curveball garnered him astint at UC Santa Barbara which turned into a baseball scholarship at the University of Southern California where he parlayed his vaunted curveball into status as a vaunted pitcher. He was selected three times in the major league baseball draft, with his status rising every time, going from the 159th-9th-1st rounds.  He finally signed with the Oakland Athletics after being the ninth overall pick. 

Barry turned into a superstar. By many accounts, he was the best pitcher in baseball. His curveball led to three all-star games and a Cy Young in 2002. Perhaps more intriguingly, Barry was aided by the Eastern Philosophies of his mother (who started her own religion) and his father (who taught Barry pitching). 

His legend grew. Tall tales (that were later proven false) of Barry as a surfer surfaced. Other tales (of the true variety) spread of his ardent guitar playing and Yoga. 

Barry turned his curve and quirk into the largest contract ever signed by a pitcher. A seven year 124 million deal with the San Francisco Giants. After signing, Barry promptly turned to the toilet, performing like a fringe major leaguer and losing his curve. 

In a low point for Zito, the professional fashion model, last October I was confused for Zito at a Los Angeles Mall. A man who'd taken songwriting classes with Zito and his sister came up and barraged me with questions about the curve and Sheryl Crow.  I am fairly tall and have brown hair but am seven or eight steps from the degree of handsome possessed by Zito. 

Zito bungled the 2007 season and much of the 2008, but has been turning things around in recent days. Friday he held the Dodgers to one run in eight innings, which qualifies as a stellar performance by almost all barometers. 

In a NewHindenburg exclusive we reveal how Mr. Zito celebrated his return to greatness.

DODGER STADIUM- DODGER STADIUM- NIGHT 

Barry Zito, 30, enters the clubhouse drenched in sweat, a martini in hand. Several teammates play PlayStation3 at an oversized console. Barry approaches and turns down the volume without asking. Barry waltzes to his locker, pausing only for a celebratory pirouette. 

Arriving at his locker, Barry removes all his clothes until he is completely naked. Upon achieving nudity, he looks around the locker room for impressed looks, before turning back to his locker. He takes out a cell phone, dialing contentedly. 

Barry: Hi Michael. 

Michael Clarke Duncan: Hey... uh who is this? 

Barry: Oh hey Mike, this is Barry Zito, transcendentalist superstar. 

MCD: Now what the hell's transcendentalist? 

Barry: It means that God is completely outside of this world. 

MCD: Now what the fuck do I care about that for?

Barry: Well, you asked... dude. 

MCD: You shoulda known I didn't give a fuck in the first place. I don't even know who you are Tiny Tip Toe

Barry: My name doesn't matter. What matters is our essence. Do you have an essence Michael? 

MDC: Only after I eat a lot of pork. You'll find an essence of me where ever I go. 

Barry: I see. Would you like to pick up Hollywood starlets tonight? 

MCD: No? 

Barry: No?

MCD: No. 

Barry: Are you sure? I'm Barry Zito, the is he or isn't he a great pitcher pitcher in all of major league baseball. I know women and women and women love potential. How bout you pick me up outside Dodger Stadium in twenty and we can go cruise for some fine celebrity tail?

MCD: That sounds cool. 

Barry: Great. 

Barry hangs up. 

Barry (announcing to the entire Giants clubhouse): Guess who's fucking Tea Leoni tonight? 

*One Hour Later* 

Barry waits in the rain outside Dodger Stadium. A single cloud hangs overhead.