"It's great to be young and a Yankee."

"Oh my God, Kristen. Look at him. He is so fat." --Lauren

It absolutely sounded like the intro bit from Sir Mix-A-Lot's hit single. Me and my sis marveling at the enourmous entity taking up residence on the mound. "He literally just wiped his hands on his stomach like he just finished his SuperSize Big Mac meal and he's wiping off the grease on his jersey. Awesome."

As much as I hate fat people on the subway, that's how much I love fat people playing baseball. The way Red Sox fans would run back to their seats/tv whenever Manny* was up, that's how I get with Prince Fielder. More so than any Yankee batter, even. It's like watching a cartoon or video game or something, which means it's the synthesis of 3 of my all time favorite things: video games, baseball, and happy fat people.

(*Caught cheating)

So when the Yanks pulled out the win with CC on Thursday, it wasn't just awesome because he was fat, it was awesome because he...wait for it...ate up innings. You'd think that someone that tubbo would be sloppy with his pitch count because clearly he's not into doing things in moderation, so it's a sweet paradox that he manages to be economical about something. In honor of him, and in light of the fact me and Laur spent most of the game delighting in his fatitude, I had to pay tribute:

I like C.C. and I cannot lie,

You other fans can't deny,

When he takes the mound, and he's throwing down, a fastball down the pipe,

You get SPRUNG,

Gonna go all game,
Cuz those pitches packing flames

Deep in the game he’s playing

I'm hooked and I can’t stop saying

Oh, CC I wanna just win one,

I don’t care you weigh a ton.

My fantasy league tried to tell me,

That gut you got will get you shelled, C.

Ooh love that slider,
You say you wanna get in the Bronx,
Well, strike 3, strike 3, cuz you aint that average fatty.

I've seen your changeup,

To hell with your flub.
Ks, ERA, who cares how much you weigh?

I'm tired of magazines,
Saying thin arms are the things,

Take the average Yank fan and ask him that,
Starter’s gotta pack much fat.

So Bombers, (yeah!) Bombers (yeah!)
Has your pitcher got the pounds (nom nom!)

Well throw it, throw it, throw it, throw it, throw that porker heat,

CC. GOT. GUT.