Dr. James Andrews and his ground-breaking Tommy John surgical procedure has given many years of service back to Big Leaguers who may have otherwise been forced to retire. It has also provided many extra years of thrills for fans. Without the surgery, we don’t have Strasburg. We don’t have Adam Wainwright. We don’t have A LOT of big time stars.
But, not everyone recovers as planned.
Enter, Joey Devine.
Despite the surname, his career path has been anything but. After a promising 2008 season where he went 6-1 in 42 appearances with a STUNNING .59 ERA, dude got kissed by the angel of shoulder death and was forced to have the highly effective surgery. Unlike most people though, two years later, he still hadn’t recovered properly; and now, in 2012, it appears Mr. Devine has to have Tommy John surgery AGAIN.
If Devine ever makes it back to the Bigs, you bet I’m gonna stand and applaud his every appearance. For the fortitude it must take to stay focused, to battle back against such adversity, would surely require we all do so.
Unfortunately, the current situation doesn’t look good. So I’m gonna pour out some liquor for his career.
Hang in there, Joey Devine. If it makes you feel any better, I know a Cantonese stripper named Joy Yee Divine. So every time I hear your name I chuckle. To myself, of course.
Hate me ‘cuz I make it rain sometimes, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
What does a World Champion do to his World Champion pal on April Fool’s Day?
Berkman plays truck prank on Wainwright
By Jenifer Langosch / MLB.com
JUPITER, Fla. — Lance Berkman and several Cardinals teammates helped pull off a terrific April Fools’ joke on Adam Wainwright during Sunday’s game.
The pranksters had the public address announcer give away a car to a fan, who, playing along with the gag, ran onto the field to collect his gift. Berkman drove the vehicle — Wainwright’s white Chevy Silverado — onto the field and past an unsuspecting Wainwright, who did a double-take at the license plate while sitting in the dugout.
The winning fan, who was David Freese’s cousin, jumped into the back of the truck and Berkman drove out of the stadium.
I love being witness to the shenanigans baseballers indulge in. And I ain’t talkin’ about chicken, beer and video game shenanigans.
I’m talkin’ about bubble gum caps, the infamous “hot foot”, and my personal favorite, the post home run silent treatment. In my opinion, Alex Rodriguez is the best at dishing this one out to unsuspecting rookies. Every time I see it happen I literally L-O-L.
Another hilarious prank that takes place almost every single day of the season is what happens (or doesn’t happen) at Wrigley Field from April to September, though that’s another post for another day.
Hate me. It’s all good. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
It’s all good, dear readers, because it’s a NEW year with NEW goals and NEW impossibilities just WAITING to be made possible. So shake off that nasty hangover, nevermind that public health clinic visit you’re gonna have to make after who you took home last night and rejoice from atop the world!
Of course, if you’re a Cardinals fan like me, you can also rejoice from the top of the baseball world (that’s the only one that matters by the way) knowing that you can walk around with your chest sticking out for at least another 10 months or so. During our short break, I realized that finding a quick rebound lover would help me forget the unequivocal pain brought on by the loss of one Albert Pujols. Enter: CARLOS BELTRAN.
From Cardinal killer to Met scapegoat to hot stove spice, Mr. Beltran slips inside an already potent lineup for the repeat hunting 2012 squad. In fact, by getting Waino back and projecting a one through five order of Furcal, Beltran, Berkman, Holliday and Freese, I can’t help but git jiggy with the disco lights pulsating in my bathroom (don’t ask).
And as if that wasn’t enough excitement to start the new year, how about the fact that my fellow US Americans in Iowa seem to be ready for real change to our corporate-petting-taxpayer-blood-sucking government!?!? FINALLY, Dr. Paul is getting some love from voters, which has forced the left-leaning media to start several Bachmann-esque smear campaigns. This is what happens when the financially elite (who run the political machine) get worried about seeing their empire crumble.
But don’t worry. Dr. Paul will bring them down. Enough with the wars. Enough with corporate greed. Enough with buying things we can’t afford and wasting BILLIONS on pointless endeavors like the war on drugs. It’s time to start over and that means no more empty Obama promises from the left and no more delusion-pandering from the right.
Ahh yes. Pondering such possibilities make me feel just like I did watching D. Freese gork one over Nellie Cruz’s head.
GO CRAZY, FOLKS! GO CRAZY!
This is gonna be one helluva year.
Hate me ‘cuz it’s the thing to do, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Okay, technically it was more of a catfight than a bidding war, but I guarantee you it was fierce. I was in college at the time, and I somehow duped two girls into believing I was A-list boyfriend material. A gnarly girlpocalypse ensued.
It was awesome.
Then there was also the time in middle school where, for a small fee of one US American dollar, I would open up my father’s Playboy collection for viewing, all in the name of health and sex education, of course.
But I’ve never been Yu Darvish-ed before. I mean, I’ve never had a bunch of folks throwing MAD MONEY at me just for the opportunity to negotiate a contract. I know, I know, it’s hard to believe, but Nolan Ryan has never gone all in on my ass…ets. My assets. That’s what I meant to say.
Personally, I cannot WAIT to see Yu Darvish in action. I’ve been salivating at his proposed Major League entry since the ’09 WBC and now it looks like I may finally get my wish. Picture a 2012 season with an Adam Wainwright, a Stephen Strasburg AND a Yu Darvish!?!?!? Somebody douse me with Gatorade!
Meanwhile, if Yu’s people are any good, then they got their Newt Gingrich on before teams put in their final bids. You know it, I know it and the American people know it: no one sells access like the Grand Old Party.
Oh the Dems do it too.
Ron Paul. That is all.
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
1. Remembering that no one gave us a chance in 2006 either
2. Sending a boatload of chicken, beer and video games to the Rangers’ clubhouse
4. Encouraging Wash to use Ogando against Craig, again and forever
5. Trying to find a reason to hate the Rangers (it’s hard!)
7. Watching — over and over and over again — Waino’s snappy curve to strikeout Inge in ’06
8. Driving by Wrigley Field, reminding myself that LIFE COULD ALWAYS BE WORSE
9. Organizing a harem of hotties to stand outside of Josh Hamilton’s house with an 8-ball and body shots
10. Whisky and beer
Happy Saturday, Y’all!
With just six weeks and some change left in the regular season, now is the time I lament my dear Cardinals’ now seemingly annual implosion from the top of the NL Central and into regular season obscurity. Sure we can blame Waino’s injury. We can blame Albert’s transformation from Machine to Double-Play Machine. We can blame shoddy defense and the lack of a real closer, hell, blame me, I don’t care. But in the end, there is no denying that we have lost the really important games and we’ve been real sloppy doing it.
Of course, this is the NL Central. So until the math cancels us out, there’s no need to give up just yet.
The same cannot be said for the Tampa Bay Rays.
If the Rays were in any division other than the AL East they’d be right in the thick of contention. Unfortunately, the way things are now, even if they do collect the fourth best record in the AL, they still won’t make the playoffs as long as post season regulars New York and Boston remain above them. I find this a bit sad, for the Rays have gotten tremendous pitching all season long and they’ve found a way to win without high-priced free agent flops Carl Crawford and Carlos Pena.
But no one’s talking about the Rays. And no one will.
Hm… reminds me of the one-way delusional street commonly referred to as the Republican Party.
In the case of the Rays, at least they’ll get another shot next year. Dr. Paul, on the other hand, is stuck in a great big clogged up tube of crazy, and the exit is nowhere to be found.
Like a lot of my fellow US Americans, my Sunday focus was on the U.S. women’s soccer team as they battled Japan for the World Cup title. I like soccer. I mean, I like it about every two years. I watch the men’s World Cup, watch the women’s World Cup the next year, then rest for two years, then back to the men’s World Cup, etc.
But when it comes to the female competition, I have an increasingly difficult time following the actual game, mostly because I find ogling the beautiful participants a novel distraction. It even serves as a warm-up to then Googling the beautiful participants, and before long, I am looking at a full computer screen of sweaty, seductive Hope Solos.
Is the game over yet?
I’m wondering this: do female baseball fans have the same problem? I mean, I know that the ladies love their baseballers… I can’t tell ya how many times my cousin Holly has declared her undying love for Jimmy Edmonds with his shirt off and one of my sisters never shuts up about what she’d do to Adam Wainwright; but seriously, do women lose track of what’s actually happening during the game because of that lust?
While I wait for your answer, you can find me on Alex Morgan’s website. I might be there a while.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
In an attempt to present the nuanced coverage of Muammar Gaddafi that the rest of the internet seems to be lacking, RSBS has recently focused on the softer side of the good Colonel. Sure, he may be batshit insane and the Michael Jackson of despots (bleached skin, disturbed children, etc.), but there’s also a softer side to the guy. It’s clear that Mr. Gaddafi puts some thought into the face he presents the world.
But, as we’ve seen this past week, at least the Colonel is in good company. In fact, it’s just about impossible to tell him apart from somebody like Charlie Sheen. Granted, Charlie hasn’t killed anyone (yet), but the way he’s going it’s probably only a matter of time. So, Charlie, Muammar. I’d like to dedicate this Saturday to you. If nothing else you’ve given Jeff something to focus on besides Wainwright’s broken elbow. That’s no small feat.
Ask anyone from my parents’ generation where they were and what they were doing when President Kennedy was assassinated, when the Beatles invaded America or when they first saw Jacqueline Bisset in a wet t-shirt, and chances are he or she will be able to recall every, single, little detail.
Unfortunately, February 23, 2011 will be that day for me: the day Waino went down for the season — a seemingly unerasable stain on the psyche of a bonafide baseball beserker (me, duh).
Booze was consumed, things were broken, neighbors were frightened.
But that’s over now. I got it all out of my system. And just as in dealing with any other tragic situation, I allowed myself to grieve. But now it’s time to man-up and put things in perspective.
We are still talking about the St. Louis friggin’ Cardinals here. And while we may not have him locked up long-term, we do have the greatest single baseball player of the last quarter century headlining our team, every single day in Albert Pujols.
We still have an ace in Chris Carpenter. We still have AP protection in Matt Holliday. We still have running-game assassin extraordinaire Yadi Molina behind the plate.
And we have the winningest active manager in the game leading them all in Tony LaRussa.
Ain’t no reason to cry, fellow Redbirds fans. The NL Central climate may have changed; we probably don’t line up to run away with the division now, but we have every reason to watch every game and feel really damn good about it.
Rally the troops.
This is war.
Haters g’on hate.
Hate me. Fine. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Image courtesy of Eff Yeah Baseball Gifs)
Um… okay. So this is what happens when Brendan Ryan becomes better known for a poorly marketed pornstache than his actual comeuppance as an everyday St. Louis Cardinals shortstop. Oh, wait. No comeuppance? He sucks? My bad.
Which is sorta why I haven’t really said much this offseason about my dearly beloved Redbirds. What’ s there to say? Jake Westbrook signed? Okay. Cool. We traded Blake Hawksworth for Ryan Theriot? M’kay… nice. I guess. Can we guarantee that Skip Schumaker won’t take another step backwards? How about facing the fact that closer Ryan Franklin really ain’t cut out to be a closer? And then…???
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I still haven’t really gotten over the crapfest that was the second half of the 2010 season. No one likes a sore loser, but goddamn it if I ain’t still sore as hell! Matt Holliday, Albert Pujols, Adam Wainwright, Chris Carpenter… YADIER MOLINA.
Friends, Romans, Cubs fans… those names command a division title.
And that’s what I want. At the very least, we ought to be slaying the Reds, the Cubs and whatever other foe floats carelessly towards the top.
Does Ryan Theriot magically make that happen? Uh… no. In fact, as a hitter, Baseball Reference has Theriot matched up with the likes of Aaron Miles, Jason Bartlett and former St. Louis Brown, Ernie Johnson. And while Bartlett had one good year, let’s not get too excited over these comparisons; ‘cuz frankly, there’s little that breeds excitement.
Yes, maybe Theriot will solve the leadoff problem that has crippled the Cardinals in recent years. Then again, he probably won’t. He’s gotta beat out Brendo and Skippy for a job first, which for us anticipating fans, is sorta like having to vote from a pool of John Kerry, George W. Bush and a bowl of potato salad.
Which one is the bowl of potato salad? I’ll leave that up to you.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m still bitter, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.