(randy jackson voice) they're in it to win it dawg!

Happy National Hangover Day! If you're feeling as sweet as me this morning, then yesterday was a very happy day. I spent my afternoon plowing through $2 margaritas at Jose Pepper's, and by "plowing", I mean "about every ten minutes, a new full cup replaced the old empty cup". It was a perfect afternoon on the patio ... at least until it started to rain. And somehow, that made the day even better, because inside they were giving out free shots of Jose Pepper's new line of tequilas! Dear God. Me plus free tequila usually equals (scooby doo voice) whroot whroo! I mean, it was just six short years ago that this scene unfolded during a "Sunday Mass" at Kauffman Stadium before a game against the (insert string of obsenties here) st. louis cardinals:

(random dude) hey! wanna do a shot or two of tequila?
(steve) hell yeah!
(steve's brother) f*ck yeah!
(random dude) (pours shots)
(steve) cheers!
(steve's brother) yup!
(everyone) (downing shot)
(steve) (pretty much vomiting instantaneously)
(steve) what ... what the f*ck is this sh*t?
(random dude) Montezuma! I got the handle for $8!
(steve) (still not feeling so hot) you overpaid, pal.
(steve's brother) (recovering from puking) seriously? $8 tequila?
(random dude) what? I like it.
(steve) sweet Jesus ...

The lesson? Never, ever, under any circumstance, in any situation, start doing shots of $8 room temperature tequila. Especially if "room temperature" is about 95 degrees and it's the Montezuma brand of tequila, that sh*t is all kinds of nasty. My stomach still cringes thinking about that stuff. Which probably explains why I went kind of light on the free tequila last night, even though (a) it wasn't half bad for a house brand and (b) it was free booze on one of the few days when it is perfectly acceptable to get p*ss drunk in public.

I left Pepper's about 7pm, because I was feeling pretty good, and knew if I kept drinking and feeling even better, it would be a "whroot whroo!" situation. No sooner do I get home and fire up "Idol" on the TV, than I notice I have a text message from my buddy Heath that opens with five magical words:

"hey guys hosmer is up".

And for the second time this week, a text message left me staring at my phone in shock, disbelief, awe, and excitement all at once.

Yup, my Boyz N Blue took a look at the standings, realized in their best Lou Brown voice "hey, we're contenders now!", and rather than continuing to trot out overmatched Kila Ka'aihue every day (with his Steve-esque .195 average ... oh who am I kidding, I wouldn't even be that "good"), rather than wait until June 1st and save themselves some $10-$11 million dollars over the next six years, rather than buy an extra year before the guy can hit free agency, the Royals decided "screw it, he's too f*cking good to not play him", and promoted the first of the kids to the majors.

So let me be about the 10,000th person to say it: welcome to KC, Eric Hosmer! Let me introduce myself to you. My name is Steve. I am 34, white, male, straight, (no longer self described!) hot as hell, possibly clinically insane, have never taken myself seriously for even a day, fancy myself to be a fairly talented writer, have a serious drinking problem that is getting worse by the beverage, and believe that I am smarter than 99.99% of sports fans out there. (All absolute valid statements of fact, by the way. Because yes, I am smarter than 99.99% of sports fans out there, albeit in an "annoying as f*ck" kind of way).

I do one thing exceptionally well -- sit in the sun and drink. Others might tan better for a while, and yeah, someone might possibly reach a .25 quicker than me. But they'll fade at some point, and I won't. For some reason, I can drink ridiculous amounts of alcohol and live to tell about it. Part of it's genes, part is years of practice, but whatever my gift comes from, my tolerance level is the stuff of legends.

Just so you know, I'll be that guy in old right field GA every Sunday afternoon, meticulously keeping score in his ridiculous scorebook like some pathetic loser that I most assuredly am not. It's a safe bet I'll be b*tching about pitch counts, plowing through $9 Budweisers like they were the watered down slop and foam that passes as beer for Quarter Draw Night at Harpo's, and occasionally pounding said ridiculous scorebook on the railing or seat back in front of me in utter and total frustration at the latest mental f*ckup our manager commits. Oh, and even odds I'll be doing all this barefoot and shirtless. You'll love me, I promise.

I'll also be that guy -- and this is a good thing -- I'll be that guy who buys all in at the first sign of success. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: nobody pilots a bandwagon quite like I do. And as of today, sir, I am all aboard the playoff express. This is no longer about "rededication" or whatever other grousely insane word I use to describe my returning to the fanbase. This is now about belief. And buddy, once I buy in -- trust me, you won't find a bigger homer anywhere. Well, other than Bob Davis, of course.

I've joked all season long -- and this season has been a spectacular success so far, by the way -- I've joked that "the best part about this team is that today, right now, is the worst the Royals are going to be for the next decade". Never has that been more true than yesterday. Yesterday, after crusing to an easy 9-1 victory over the hapless Orioles, that Royals team, that currently sits at 17-14, is 5-1 on this homestand, and has three very winnable games lined up against the A's this weekend, that is the worst team the Royals will trot out until at least 2021.

Starting tonight, it's season on. Starting tonight, the Royals are not just playing out the string, hoping someone, anyone, shows up to root the team on (or at least buy a couple beers to generate some revenue). Nope, this team is now all in, both for this season and the next decade's worth of seasons. Eric Hosmer, buddy, you are just the beginning. Mike Moustakis figures to be joining you next, unless our pretty poor starting rotation goes from (mark rolfing voice) "bad" to (bruce willis in "armageddon" voice) "piss poor", and Danny Duffy and Mike Montgomery are summoned to stabilize the staff. (There is a damned good possibility of this happening, sadly. C'mon Chen! Pull it together!)

Eight years ago, this club gave me the summer of a lifetime. A pennant contender in Kansas City! We hadn't seen it since I was in high school. That summer of 2003 was beyond a blast. I absolutely loved everything about that season, including the fact that because we had DirecTV, we didn't get the failed experiment known as RSTN, so every game from April through July, either I had to show up and watch in person, or fire up the radio and follow along with ESPN Game Tracker. It was great, seriously. It was like being 12 again, during the last great pennant race this town lived through (1989).

Seven years ago, I bought so hook, line, and sinker into the idea that the Royals, this perpetual loser of a franchise that nobody wanted to come watch play after the All Star Break every year, I so led the bandwagon that me and my roommate not only bought season tickets, we bought the whole damned season worth of tickets. Not a 10 or 20 game package, all 81. And the Royals played great, for exactly one week. By mid-May, they were already out of contention. The only bright spot left that season was the debut on the Friday night of Memorial Day weekend of one Zack Greinke. And for the next six and a half years, he was the one, and usually the only, reason to come out and watch the Royals play. Believe me, it was brutally bad here the last few years.

Since that fatal first week of 2004, we have seen every decent player this team had bolt town. Starting that summer with the trade of my favorite player, Carlos Beltran, and continuing all the way up to last Christmas, when Zack Greinke's tenure in KC came to a close. Nobody thought this team had a prayer of being decent in 2011, myself included. Now, with the season a fifth of the way through, and the Royals are not just over .500, they would actually be in a one-game playoff for the wildcard berth if the season ended today. Again, only one fifth of the way in ... but unlike most year at the one fifth point, we're still alive. To some people, that's wishful thinking. "Come on Stevo", I can hear them already saying. "This team isn't gonna hang in there. They'll fold just like every other Royals team has". And those people might be right. But the homer in me says they're more full of it than the port-o-potty in Lot C.

What your promotion yesterday, and your start tonight says champ, is that management -- and let's be honest here, management's thinking is really the only thinking that matters -- what your arrival says, loud and clear, is that management thinks it can steal this division. By pulling the plug on Kila Ka'aihue after only six weeks, by basically kicking him to the curb to promote you, management is pushing its chips into the middle of the table. Whether this is an illusion or not, who knows, but management likes its hand enough to wager on it. And whether a person agrees with that strategory or not, it's the most positive sign to emerge from One Kauffman Way since Allard Baird traded for Brian Anderson and Rondell White in late August 2003. That was the last time management pushed its chips all in. That hand didn't end so well, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

For the first time in eight years, there's a reason to believe, a reason to hope. The day we've dreamed about as fans, the day we've been told to wait for now for the last five years, is finally here. Eric, pal, you have reached the major leagues. The Royals are going for it! Finances and contracts and extra service years be damned. The Royals are sacrificing their financial well-being in 2014 and beyond to try to win right now.

Sadly, I have to skip "Mass" on Sunday because it's Mother's Day, and apparently we have some big family get-together I'm going to be at instead. Believe me, I would much rather be in right field GA, broom in hand, ready to see another sweep go down. But come May 22nd, it's on like Donkey Kong inhaling Jared Jeffress' bong. Me, right field GA, a scorebook, a beer, and a huge smile on my face, knowing that going to "Mass" isn't painful anymore, it's fun.

I can't wait to watch you play buddy. I know the hype is insane, and the pressure to produce is going to be there from night one, pitch one. But you can do it. And when you do, and this team is somehow playing meaningful games in late August and early September, when the focus of the city isn't solely directed at the team across the parking lot, it's really going to be fun. Enjoy this day champ, it's a life-long dream come true.

For both of us.

The Royals are relevant! They're going for it! They're not letting finances drive their decision making process! What kind of bizarro universe have we landed in, and more importantly, do I have to leave? Because I'm kind of digging this alternative reality ...