Come to Papa

Come on ... use him. The man was made to pitch. He brings the fire. What, are you going to let yourself be knocked out of the playoffs over something as ridiculous as a set of Rules?

A couple three-inning outings in a row never hurt nobody. Come on, Joe. Stop babying the boy. Let him loose. Let him show the world what he's got. Somebody's gotta get Vlad Guerrero out. Somebody needs to get Chone Figgins to pop up. Somebody has to fan Garret Anderson. Who better than your stud, every single step of the way?

Sore arm, schmore arm. If God didn't want us to employ our elbows in the service of a baseball game, why did he give them to us? Riddle me that old man. Have a look at the roster if you don't believe me. I'll tell you what -- it doesn't say "Joba Chamberlain: Not-Pitcher," does it? I rest my case. What harm could a bunch of three-inning outings do, anyway?

Use the boy, man. Use him as much as you feel you need to. What are you, Joe ... chicken?