I'm pretty sure I could strike out Godzilla

Godzilla came to the plate prior to a baseball game in Japan recently. You can see him in the photo above, another in a long line of ridiculous first-pitch ceremonies the NPB has put on.

You may be thinking to yourself: Holy crap, Godzilla! That's a monster. He's trashed entire cities, squashed innocent bystanders with his pinkie toe and killed giant creatures just by breathing. Imagine seeing him in a batter's box. Like right after some guy lays down a squiggly little bunt, the PA announcer says: Now batting, Godzilla.

He gives a big roar to the crowd and turns back to look at you.

I get it, it's very intimidating. But honestly, I don't think you need to worry. I really don't think Godzilla would be that good at baseball. In fact, he might suck.

First off, look at his arms. They're tiny! He has zero plate coverage. Work the outside corner all day. Then jam him inside when he least expects it. He might get angry, but so what, he's always angry.

I also don't think he could get around on a fastball. Like even 90-mph, 80-mph, Stevie Wilkerson-mph. He's just too bulgy. Too dinosaur-y. Can he turn his hips? Where are his hips? I just see a giant thigh. He has zero coordination.

And what about breaking balls? Do you think Godzilla could actually hit a curveball? A slider? He wouldn't know what was happening.

Also, if he does make contact -- which will, as we've already established, be weak contact -- do you really think he can beat it out for a hit? Does Godzilla run? Have you ever seen Godzilla run? Does he even know where to go? The only time I've seen him run, it looked like he was a baby spinning in circles looking for his mommy.

So, in conclusion, you could strike out Godzilla. I could strike out Godzilla. Monsters may be scary when they're under your bed or on your TV late at night, but put them in a baseball batter's box, and they're nothing.