The ballad of Doc and AJ...The Bonehead says "Au Revoir"
When AJ finished his start last night, I got a little fuzzy on the inside. Dude took his 11 k-game to finish his career best season and waved his glove to the Toronto crowd. Apparently hat = sarcasm, glove = love. He hugged Jesse Litsch, he hugged Purcey, he hugged Joey Bats, he hugged Rod Barajas, he full on man-hugged Doc, and I thought he was going to make out with Aaron Hill, they stared so lovingly into each other's eyes. The crowd chanted "AJ!, AJ! AJ!" and he came out for a curtain call. You see Yankee fans, if you save the curtain calls for some more impressive than a player tying his shoes, it actually means something.
If this is the end of the AJ-era in Toronto, it's been quite an era. He was oft-injured. He fell in love with Doc. He raced chillis while on the DL. He was called a pussy by his GM. He struck out a ton of guys. He got new tattoos . He was called a pussy by the press. He diversified player/fan interaction by incorporating sarcasm into crowd acknowledgment. 
He allegedly complained that despite the fact that the team was on an 8-game win streak, the city didn't give a shit. He was called a pussy by the fans on the Internet. His exuberance made Posada tell him to fuck off. He shared shaving cream pies. He made me associate Marilyn Manson and New Kids on the Block with baseball. He tossed Gatorade coolers in the dugout. He tossed garbage at uppity garbage men. He thought Toronto was clean. 
Despite the fact that he is as rich as shit, he sported some of the best trailer park hair around...from the mohawk to the mullet to the bleached mullet. He talked at length about manicures. He got his emotional pitching blow ups down to about 2-3 runs, from about 7. He implied that he wanted to play for the Cubs because he had so many friends there, but then took it back. He man-hugged, a lot. He made Doc smile. And for all of this, Allan James Burnett, with his bullshit, his talent, his mercurial personality, the talented bonehead won my baseball heart.
He allegedly complained that despite the fact that the team was on an 8-game win streak, the city didn't give a shit. He was called a pussy by the fans on the Internet. His exuberance made Posada tell him to fuck off. He shared shaving cream pies. He made me associate Marilyn Manson and New Kids on the Block with baseball. He tossed Gatorade coolers in the dugout. He tossed garbage at uppity garbage men. He thought Toronto was clean. Despite the fact that he is as rich as shit, he sported some of the best trailer park hair around...from the mohawk to the mullet to the bleached mullet. He talked at length about manicures. He got his emotional pitching blow ups down to about 2-3 runs, from about 7. He implied that he wanted to play for the Cubs because he had so many friends there, but then took it back. He man-hugged, a lot. He made Doc smile. And for all of this, Allan James Burnett, with his bullshit, his talent, his mercurial personality, the talented bonehead won my baseball heart.