As a vocal Cardinals fan on a dorm floor full of vocal not-Cardinals fans I’ve been greeted with a good deal of, ah, enthusiasm whenever baseball has come up over the last several days. I can’t fault the Cubs fans, to be honest; not only are they living in Missouri, but they really haven’t had anything this nice to cheer on since Derrek Lee made his first comeback. But the best piece of advice I received was this: if they don’t win the division (and keep in mind I still think they will, momentum agnostic as I am) find your scapegoat and stick to him, no matter how irrationally.

I thought this over for a while, and I consider it a fine practice. But who to choose? Tony La Russa? How passé. Walt Jocketty? Last week. Bill DeWitt? Pedestrian.

No, my choice for Official Irrational Scapegoat of the 2006 Season, Should It End as I Hope It Doesn’t, is our very own Dr. George Paletta. I’m sure he’s a fine person. That said, I’m beginning to wonder if the Cardinals do background checks on job applicants; it should have been a red flag when the college section of his resumé read “Yeah, I did that.”

In any case, Paletta and his incriminating X-Rays got the job. But that’s not the most remarkable part; Get Up, Baby!, utilizing our contacts deep within the seedy underbelly of the PAX Network, has acquired a pilot dramatizing certain incidents in the Cardinals season, based on his life. It really explains some of his decisions; we’ve had the most elucidating moments typed up for your consumption. (We’d've uploaded the video, but nobody could find a Betamax dubber on such short notice.)

DIAGNOSIS: MULDER
teleplay by Jorge Paletto

[Scene: DR. PALETTA is in his office, examining a patient.]

PALETTA
So just stay off your feet for a while, and see how you’re doing in a few weeks.

STEPHEN HAWKING
Thank you, Doctor.

[HAWKING wheels out; closeup on PALETTA’s winning smile. Enter SENSITIVE YOUNG DOCTRESS.]

S.Y.D.
You’re risking a patient’s life!

PALETTA
Which?

S.Y.D.
Mine–I’m dying of a broken heart.

PALETTA
It would never work out, Syd, I’m far too gruff and unapproachable for you–even if I do have a heart of gold. Let the next patient in.

[S.Y.D. sniffles tenderly; enter MARK MULDER.]

MARK MULDER
Doc, I’m–

PALETTA
Will you let the next patient in, already? We’re wasting time.

[Enter LARRY BIGBIE.]

PALETTA
Good afternoon!

[LARRY BIGBIE explodes; enter JIM EDMONDS.]

JIM EDMONDS
Doc, I might be hurt; I’ve had trouble pulling the ball all year, and I’ve kind of turned into a singles hitter.

S.Y.D.
I think he’s hurt; look at those changes in his swing, necessitated by months of playing through considerable pain.

PALETTA
You’re not looking at the pattern, Syd! First he lived in Anaheim, and then he wasn’t hurt; then he lived in St. Louis, and then he wasn’t hurt. Now he lives in St. Louis. People all over St. Louis aren’t hurt.

S.Y.D.
What does that even mean?

PALETTA
Rub some dirt in it.

JIM EDMONDS
Whe–it’s not an “it” so much as a wearing down–

[Enter JASON ISRINGHAUSEN]

JASON ISRINGHAUSEN
I’m having trouble landing strong on my fastball. I was thinking it might be a problem with my hip.

PALETTA
You walked into my office, didn’t you? I walk into my office all the time, and I don’t have any hip problems. The important thing is to keep throwing that cutter until that hip feels good again, okay?

[ISRINGHAUSEN exits upon finding the door. Enter MYSTERIOUS SOUTHPAW; he is wearing Groucho glasses.]

MARK MULDER
Afternoon, Doc.

PALETTA
Afternoon, Mysterious Stranger.

MARK MULDER
I’m having some problems throwing like I used to; velocity, mechanics, command–nothing seems right anymore.

PALETTA
85 Miles an hour? That’s pretty good. I can’t throw 85.

S.Y.D. [THINKING]
Not since he lost use of his hand in that terrible accident after his wife left him.

PALETTA
Anyway, take a little time off if you need it. See how your shoulder feels.

MARK MULDER
It’s more that I can’t feel my shoulder that I’m worried about.

[MULDER walks out.]

PALETTA
He thought he could pull a fast one like that? Just with those glasses? You’ll have to get up earlier than that to fool me, Matt Morris.

[Enter TIMO PEREZ and TONY LA RUSSA. LA RUSSA looks inquisitively at PALETTA.]

PALETTA
Well, he looks like a baseball player to me.

[Weeks pass. PALETTA totally nails S.Y.D. but is too depressed about his life to continue the relationship. PALETTA is sitting in his office; MULDER enters.]

MARK MULDER
Oh my God, my God, my shoulder–it’s like someone keeps setting it on fire, and then putting it out with a clawhammer. For the love of–Oh, God.

PALETTA
Let’s see how you feel off a mound.

S.Y.D.
There’s–there’s a big fork puncturing his rotator cuff. Is that a problem?

[MULDER throws.]

PALETTA
That’s the best I’ve ever seen someone throw without moving their shoulder. Mulder–is that your name? You’re a fine specimen. [To S.Y.D.] I’ve never been able to do that.

[JIM EDMONDS walks in.]

JIM EDMONDS
Doc, what do you say about my post-concussion syndrome? Tony and the guys all want me back, and I feel like I’m ready, so after I get your okay I’m gonna take the first flight down to Houston and–

PALETTA
Flying? I hate flying. You’re not ready to fly. Once I got so sick on a plane I nearly threw up; I’d hate to see that happen to you.

[JIM EDMONDS inadvertantly drives in three runs holding a pencil.]

PALETTA
Ah–it’s just as I thought!

S.Y.D.
Yes?

PALETTA
Stephen Hawking is paralyzed!

[MARK MULDER spontaneously combusts.]