I'm just not that into most of these waiver-wire wonder kids

I write this epistle with a sling on my arm, stitches in my brow and litigation pending against the 15 other owners in my AL/NL league, courtesy of the roto stampede prompted by Max Scherzer's outing on Tuesday night. In case you missed it, the 23 year old faced 13 Houston batters and retired them all, seven via strikeout. When news of the outing spread, we reacted like brides-to-be spotting the last discounted gown at Filene's Basement. We tore each other to shreds.

Catch him if you can, but Jeff Clement won't be spending much time in the battery. (AP)

A few months from now, we'll realize that this wasn't the wisest reaction. After all, we're still egg-faced in the wake of the Johnny Cueto and Mighty John Bowker panics of weeks past. But so many roto owners simply can't resist: They see a favorable box-score line and immediately pounce. Then they spend the hours or days up until his next start declaring "I love this guy," even though that affection is based on a lone box score (come to think of it, I've sustained real-world relationships on far less).

If this is your strategy, you're stupid and unimaginative and dumb and I hate you. Stop with the maniacally paced waiver claims -- unless a would-be closer becomes available -- and stop getting overenthused about roto nobodies who have seemingly evolved overnight. That's the best piece of advice I can pass along at this early point in the season ... well, that, and to get rid of Travis Hafner as fast as the laws of time and space allow. Here's a quick take on some waiver-wire crushes.

Max Scherzer, Arizona Diamondbacks: He has been positioned as this year's Joba Chamberlain, minus the colorful back story and nipple ring, and was similarly dominant in the minors before his call-up (12 hits, 3 walks, 38 strikeouts in 23 Triple-A innings). Still, I'm skeptical. While I have little to go on here besides Tuesday's outing and sweet scouty mash notes, it appears that Scherzer throws an oh-my-lord fastball that darts downward, a half-OK changeup, and not much else. That fastball may be enough to get a bunch of guys out his first time through the league, but professional hitters get wise to one-pitch hurlers before too long. Stick him in the bullpen when Doug Davis comes back (hopefully 100 percent cancer-free) and let him reduce grown men to squirmy little girls with that gargantuan fastball.

Separately, the name "Max Scherzer" makes the guy sound like a Teutonic pugilist. Nickname ideas, anyone? "Supermax" would work if it weren't for those pesky criminal-fortress associations. Anyone?

Jeff Clement, Seattle Mariners: He'll get a few games behind the plate while Kenji Johjima relearns how to hit the ball out of the infield, during which he'll horrify onlookers with his hands-of-concrete defense. After the sage Mr. McLaren relieves him of catching duty, possibly mid-pitch, Clement should stick as an occasional first baseman and designated hitter. He's already the Mariners' best option at DH, even though the team remains bullheaded in its support of the dormant Jose Vidro. This decision has entered the realm of willful stupidity at this point.

Scott Olsen, Florida Marlins: Forget his charming personality and dainty 2.70 ERA -- there are plenty of reasons to pity anybody who honestly believes Olsen has rediscovered his 2006 form, starting with the fact that he's walked as many guys as he's whiffed. Here's a prediction that could come true as early as Tuesday: The Marlins will embark on many a seven-game losing streak when their bullpen stops cleaning up all the messes. Nobody in the greater Miami area will notice, unless the city enacts a 1/10th-of-1-cent tax on Latino sizzle to help pay for the new stadium.

Brian Burres, Baltimore Orioles: He boasts six relatively good starts to his name, a few of them against teams that can hit a little (the Yankees, White Sox and Rangers). Gentle-chucking lefties with pronounced fly-ball tendencies don't stay hot for long, though, and the 19 Ks and 13 walks in 31.3 innings augur a nigh-apocalyptic correction in the near future. Too bad he's not enough of a name to trade for something useful.

Carlos Delgado is hitting a robust .198 through 26 games. (Getty Images)

Carlos Delgado, New York Mets: The guy spent the first four weeks of the season swinging as if his bat weighed as much as he does. Then he hits two dingers in a single game (off a gimpy-shouldered John Smoltz and the immortal Will Ohman) and roto scavengers seize on it as evidence that he's fixed, never mind the 7-for-62 mudpile in which he's mired. Unless you're in a 30-team league in which somebody has already snatched up all the decent 1B-eligible catchers and outfielders, Delgado should not be owned. His real-world situation ain't exactly stable, either. When the Mets decide they need to blame somebody for their slow start, he'll be the sacrificial lamb.

Jarrod Saltalamacchia, Texas Rangers: I know what you're thinking: "Gee, Uncle Larry, I've already added 'Saltalamacchia' to my Microsoft Word spell check, so I can't ditch the fella." I agree. The Rangers can't pitch and are about 16 hours away from divorcing manager Ron Washington, the only skipper in professional sports less authoritative than a substitute teacher. They'll trade their few valuable trinkets (Kevin Millwood back to Atlanta?) and play the kids, so there should be at-bats for Salty's taking at C and DH.

Odalis Perez, Washington Nationals: No. Just ... no. No.

Joe Saunders, Los Angeles Angels of San Sacramento: I don't get it. A lifelong shaky-control guy all of a sudden finds the strike zone and starts befuddling lefty and righty hitters alike. I guess Ol' Joe got his act together during the offseason and can now be expected to dominate on a regul ... wait, Billy, it's a trap! Twenty-nine of Saunders' 43 innings have come against the Twins, Mariners, and A's! He's a fraud! Run! Run, Billy, run!

Nate McLouth, Pittsburgh Pirates: In my drunker moments, I fantasize that I'd be the kind of major leaguer that Nate McLouth is: A hard worker who, despite having been shortchanged in the talent department, kept at it until he earned the respect of his peers. Then I sober up and realize I'm not going 20/20 in anything except maybe typos/libel proceedings. And I hurt.

Melky Cabrera, New York Yankees: I'm always hesitant to pimp Yankees for rotisserie purposes, because of the perceived halo effect they receive from playing beside Alex Rodriguez and the rest. Yet Melky might be the rare Yankee sleeper, owing to the "he's a spare part!" bleats that accompanied word of his potential inclusion in a Johan Santana deal last winter. He doesn't turn 24 until August and his power and patience are both headed in the right direction. I've yet to find concrete evidence that he's a lesser player than New England hunkthrob Jacoby Ellsbury.

Carlos Quentin, Chicago White Sox: Young, patient, powerful, plays 81 games in a homer-happy park ... there's nothing not to like here, unless you want to hold his 2007 injury history against him. That would be just like you, going all "Carlos' labrum is a loser" and "Carlos' hamstrings are hamstrung" on him. I hope you're proud of the adult you've become.

Joel Pineiro, St. Louis Cardinals: Cards pitching coach Dave Duncan earned his "guru" bona fides by converting human launching pads like Jeff Weaver and Braden Looper into functional members of the rotation, possibly via hypnotism. So maybe he'll be able to work the same magic with Piñeiro, to whom the concept of a "strike zone" was utterly foreign until he arrived in St. Louis last summer. Me, I don't see it. Sign number 74 that the Cardinals organization has lost its way: When it handed Piñeiro a $13 million deal based on six weeks of sustained competence.

Boof Bonser, Minnesota Twins: The big concern here is that he plays for a team with the game's worst offense east of San Francisco. Still, five of his six 2008 starts have been solid (yes, three came against the Kansas City and Oakland offensive juggernauts) and he's cut down on the walks. Plus if you pick him up, you get to say "Boof Bonser" as often as you'd like, which is fun. Try it: Boof Bonser. Boof Bonser. Boof Bonser. See? Fun. Wheee!