Maybe it's just me . . .

Upon learning America's foremost alleged canine killer will be represented by an attorney named Billy Martin, I googled the name Billy Martin and, of course, was first directed to the Wikipedia entry for the many-time Yankee manager, also named Billy Martin. Since that Billy Martin, who died in drunken auto accident in 1990, has been back in the public consciousness due to a current television mini-series focused on the late 70s Yankee teams he skippered, I gave it a read.

The entry includes -- amongst the descriptions of Martin's legendary grit and tortured baseball genius -- a list of each soul the volatile former second basement fought. Predictably Martin threw down with opponents, teammates, sports writers, baseball officials, bar patrons and strip club bouncers. Then there was the infamous slugging of a "marshmallow salesmen," which led to one of Martin's many firings, and countless late night television punch lines.

But my favorite Martin combatant was listed only as a Chicago cab driver who preferred soccer to baseball.

There is something in the way the absurd possibilities of that phrase hang out there -- Did Martin suddenly leap over the seat to attack the cabbie? Was the driver talking trash indignantly in some almost indecipherable foreign accent? -- that has kept me chuckling for the last hour.