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Why I Want the Dodgers To Trade For Jon Lester

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Or, to a lesser extent, Cole Hamels or David Price. No, really. Go for it, guys.

The addition of one of those pitchers wouldn't guarantee the Dodgers the division title this year, because pitchers throw with arms, and arms are made of ligaments and muscles and laffy taffy and youneverknow.

But it would bring them a lot closer. And it would make them painfully strong in a playoff series, probably odds-on favorites to win it all.

So basically, I want the Dodgers to win the World Series. Is that what I'm saying?

No. The Dodgers will have their Hamels, or Price, or Lester -- or someone similar -- no matter what. They'll spend another $100 million or so on a top pitcher this off-season, or next. So if they're going to get their stars, wouldn't it be better if they lost a few top prospects at the trading deadline to get them?

A strong Dodger farm system, something akin to the St. Louis organization, which has an endless supply of 95-MPH pitchers and hot-hitting guys named Matt, would spell the end of competition in the NL West, not to mention the end of civil society, for years to come.

Good God, man, prospects galore and bottomless free agent budgets? The only thing to hold the Dodgers back would be the sabotage chip that Brian Sabean planted in Ned Colletti's head years ago. But the circuits are old, and it's not very reliable: Sometimes the signal goes through, as when Agent Ned signed Juan Uribe to a three-year contract. But sometimes it doesn't, and the Dodgers outsmart everyone and nab Yasiel Puig. 

A rotation of Kershaw/Greinke/Hamels/Ryu would certainly seem unstoppable. I can't imagine a team with four aces ever failing to meet sky-high expectations. Can you? The thing is, it's inevitable. If not Hamels, Price. If not Price, Lester. If not Lester... you get the picture.

C'mon, Ned, do it. Trade Joc Pederson and Julio Urias for two months of Jon Lester, or even more crown jewels for David Price. We dare you.

UPDATE: We double dare you. Chicken. Bok bok bok bok b-cawk!

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