Interesting story from Wednesday's Washington Post about hot-headed pitcher Scott Olsen, who the Nats acquired from the Marlins over the winter. It turns out Olsen's a pretty committed smoker. 12 cigarettes a day, actually.
Unless he's drinking, then he'll smoke more than a dozen. He tried to quit on his 25th birthday, but that didn't work out. So now he says he'll quit if his girlfriend gets pregnant.
"I just have to get motivated," Olsen said.
His vice, for this particular moment, lent only one benefit: Just weeks into his first spring training with the Washington Nationals, Olsen already had discovered his own private smoking nook, tucked just outside the right field corner at Space Coast Stadium. His teammates, less than an hour from their 1 p.m. exhibition game on Tuesday, clustered in the clubhouse. But Olsen sat outside in an unattended golf cart, legs up on the glass windshield, puffing away and telling the story of old bad habits.
Baseball players have the best jobs in the world. As a devout nicotine freak myself — first it was Kodiak, now it's Marlboro Lights — I have to say that the only thing that has ever worked for me the numerous times I've tried to quit the filthy shit over the years has been the cold turkey method. But given Olsen's ornery disposition, I'm assuming he'd be an absolute nightmare to deal with if he went that route. He should probably go for the nicotine patches, which are fun, especially if you put them on right before you go to sleep. Who doesn't like vivid, four-hour dreams with narrative arcs? Last time I wore a patch before bedtime, I ended up thrown into this dream that had 300-like special effects. Except, you know, it was set in my junior high school and I ended up getting into a sword fight with an angry talking peacock. Good times.