Trust me, the last thing Jeff Francoeur needs is a black eye from a line drive he lost in the lights. The best option is totally to shield his gorgeous face, his best asset, lest he turn off all the lusty Long Island hausfraus with an ugly shiner. I know from experience, having been knocked out by a pop fly back in sixth grade that gave me a wicked black eye, ended my Little League career, and made my 12-year-old girlfriend recoil in disgust. You gotta protect the goods!
Still, you can't help but laugh at the animated version of his failure. Why? Because Frenchy's a Met now and getting joy out of Mets team failures is what we do. It's our lifeblood.