Yesterday, we investigated Brian Wilson's alleged wild night out on the town as described by his own Twitter feed. Immediately after posting, most of Wilson's wacky tweets disappeared, replaced by the message, "WARNING-do not take my twitters seriously, they are made up stories that reflect my humor." What about the white mocha fraps and the linen pants? Were those details made up, too?
Last night, his Twitter account disappeared completely. (we have the best parts screen-capped for perpetuity, of course) Later, San Francisco Chronicle beat writer Henry Schulman got the story straight from the horse's mouth. There was no night out on the town:
In a conversation with me inside the clubhouse, Wilson said he wrote his "Scottsdale" posts from his hotel room. In a tweet directed toward me (and not in a friendly way), he suggested he was enjoying a room-service hamburger.
"I don't even drink during the season," Wilson told me. "I like to work out and I don't like to feel like complete s-- the next day."
Schulman feels that Wilson's character is strong enough that he doesn't believe Brian is lying. We discussed this last night on the podcast prior to our discussions of slutty grandmas and Mexican cancer. Our conclusion? Wilson's Twitter musings were far more interesting than the stock publicist-generated nonsense one normally reads on a typical pro athlete's Twitter. It's a shame that an upstart fervor by folks like us caused Brian to cancel his account. Our bad, y'all.
The story has a happy ending as Wilson struck out all three Dodgers batters he faced to earn the save last night. See? That's what happens when good boys stay in their hotel rooms the night before a game and don't misbehave and create wild fantasies about getting into it with Affliction-wearing jamooks in Scottsdale.