Kenny Lofton needs a gig.
When you’re still a productive ballplayer in the twilight of your career, you should probably be a little more discriminating in your choice of marketing partnerships, lest that call from a team like Tampa surprise you.
After your first error, the devilish Rays would cut your ear off and dance around centerfield splashing gasoline on your lifeless shell of a corpse just because this ad is so pathetic, Kenny.
Didn’t you make a few dozen million bucks in the last 15 years or so?
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