Who doesn’t? Our ESPN the Magazine hasn’t arrived yet, but a reader has directed us to an article on Greg Maddux that contains this awesome passage:

Self-reflection is not a priority. Maddux has spent his adult life in the eternal childhood of the big league clubhouse. There’s no other place on earth quite like it. One morning this spring in Peoria, Ariz., he sat at his corner locker with a plate of bacon and eggs on his lap, talking about pitching. He was running some sort of low-stakes golf pool out of the corner of his eye, passing out papers and collecting money without turning his head. At one point, in midsentence and without warning, he winced like a man about to pass a stone, lifted his left cheek off the chair and let loose. “Whoa, wow, sorry about that,” he said, then continued with the eggs and the discussion and the golf pool. So add that to the Maddux scouting report: bats right, throws right, farts left.

This reminds us of 11th grade physics. One day, the teacher accidentally uttered the phrase, “…farting in space …” and naturally, that is the one thing we recall from physics. As for Maddux, his gassy candor (he had a history of farting in Chicago, too) is yet another reason to think of him as the greatest pitcher of his generation, instead of that cheating lout Roger Clemens, who was last seen “oozing indignation and unreliability” in Washington DC.