I turned 26 yesterday. After descending to depths of unspeakable depravity -- and eating an entire jumbo slice of pizza -- I went to sleep and woke up this morning to find out the Braves hadn't forgotten about me: they gave Scott Proctor a minor league contract.
Now, obviously, as Tom has written, Proctor isn't exactly good. But he's a warm body, and the bullpen is one of our areas for improvement, and I think we'd all rather see the desiccated corpse of Scott Proctor in a close game than Manny Acosta. And, of course, it's nice to know that a guy who's recovering from Tommy John surgery isn't being given guaranteed major league money, so we're not out much if he doesn't pan out.
Maybe it's not much of a birthday present. But it is one. Thanks, Frank, kinda.