The RSBS crew understands how tough life can be when you’re forever being confused with someone else. Back when I was blond and Jeff had his mustache, we were often mistaken for Hall & Oates. Of course, it didn’t help that we regularly launched into spirited renditions of “Maneater” for these screaming fans but sometimes you just have to make lemonade out of the lemons.
Of course, it’s a little harder to make lemonade when your particular lemons involve war crimes and 42 years of repression. Just ask Carlos Santana.
In all honesty, I probably wouldn’t know Santana if he walked up to me on the street so it’s not out of the question that I might believe he was Gaddafi. However, since Gaddafi happens to be dead, well, you can see where the confusion might set in. I guess this is just what you have to deal with when you like the flashy clothes and curly locks:
I don’t really have any advice for Santana except for maybe a haircut. After all, that turned out to be the short-term answer for Jeff and I. Yep, it worked right up to the point when people started confusing us with my favorite Tigers’ double play combo, Alan Trammell and Lou Whitaker. That’s definitely better than a dead dictator, though.
Speaking of making dreams come true, don’t forget to send us your pictures showing why you’re RSBS‘s biggest fan and keep checking in as the Pass the Crown contest continues. As it stands right now, you could win yourself a pair of Oakley sunglasses!
America has given so much to the world. This Friday, I want all of our readers to just sit back as RSBS leads you through the awsomeness that is American history. We start, as is our wont, at the beginning….
Alan Trammell takes a lot of heat for the Tigers’ 119-loss season in 2003. Since then, he has coached in the Majors but no one seems willing to give him a second shot at managing. And that’s probably not completely unfair. Sure, the teams he managed in 2004 and ’05 may have rebounded from the record in ’03 but they were still 20 or so games under .500. That doesn’t exactly get you very far in baseball.
However, as bad of a manager as Trammell may have been with the Tigers and no matter how much blame he deserves for that horrible 2003 season, Tram barely even rates a mention when it comes to the truly bad managers. More than that, in order to truly put his record into context, RSBS takes you on a trip through truly terribly management.
Zine El Abdine Ben Ali
Our journey begins with the recent events in Tunisia. Now, although the other half of RSBS only knows Tunisia as Tatooine in Star Wars, the country is a real place and it really did just drive out its leader of 30 years. Mr. Ben Ali took an interesting approach to his position as a footnote in history. Instead of contenting himself with just looting the riches of his country, he also referred to his fellow Tunisians as “terrorists” for daring to denounce him and then decided to shoot up some of them just to prove his point. In the end, it didn’t turn out so well and Mr. Ben Ali is now cooling his heels (although probably not literally) in the wonderfully tolerant Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.
Come on, did you think I could make it through a post on bad management without mentioning Selig? The guy’s record speaks for itself. From the lameass decision to have the All-Star game count for home-field advantage in the World Series to his incredibly arrogant approach to and mismanagement of the steroids era, Selig stands for everything that is wrong with baseball today. I wish I had something nice to say about the guy just so I could change things up a bit but I’d only be lying to our readers and to myself. I’m not willing to do either and so Mr. Selig once again finds himself on an RSBS list.
Mobutu Sese Seko
Going back to Africa but a little ways south of Tunisia, we find the monstrous and monstrously mismanaged country of the Belgian Congo…I mean Zaire…I mean the Democratic Republic of the Congo. From the escapades of the Belgians to a never-ending civil war, the Congo has much to offer in the way of mismanagement. However, if you want to single out just one person, you’d have to go with Mobutu. And if there’s one small little tidbit that encapsulates his mismanagement of the country and its enormous wealth of natural resources, it would have to be this: Mobutu built a landing strip at his personal home near the tiny town of Gbadolite and made sure it was long enough to accommodate a Concorde. He then proceeded to charter the Concorde on a regular basis to ferry he and his family around the world.
Although Matt Millen never killed anyone directly, he was a terrible general manager. In fact, he may be the worst manager ever. Since the inception of the Superbowl the Lions have
never been a great franchise, but he still managed to take them to new lows.
And, although he was no longer around when it happened, that 0-16 season
was the real fruit of his handiwork. Sure, when compared to guys like Mobutu and Ben Ali, Millen may not seem so bad. Even in comparison to Selig and his giant ears Millen may seem tame in comparison. But it’s just a ruse. Bad management aside, the man is evil incarnate and the fact that he still has a job anywhere just proves that the greatest lie the devil ever told was convincing the major networks to put him on the air.
And there you have it. I’m not saying this list is by any means exhaustive but it has been pretty exhaustively researched and vetted, just like everything else I post here. And all that aside, you know it must be true because it’s on the internet.
And so in this Podcast…
Jeff and Johanna welcome a paragon of baseball intelligentsia, Mr. Paul Lebowitz — the one and only Prince of New York! If you aren’t already reading the Prince’s daily column *here* or *here* then you probably should get on that. Like, right away. Or else. And if that ain’t enough, you can certainly follow him on Twitter too. To be honest, the man is too ruthless and too unfettered for you to not be paying attention to him… so the RSBS crew made sure to get him at his best. Among the titillating
topics of discussion: Jason Bay’s UZR, men left on base (LOB), Keith Hernandez’s hunches, BRAINS!!!!… the Lou Piniella Mailbag and much, much more!
to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and
all-around sound guru. His Undercast podcast is the bomb shizzy, by the way. It’s available on iTunes and is posted regularly at Undercard Films.
**Image by Annette T. (Thanks, Annette!) Check out her sweet@ss blog!
Recorded Saturday , June 12, 2010
On this team, there is no Al Kaline. There is no Kirk Gibson. No Jack Morris, no Trammell, no Whitaker.
Heck, this ain’t even the ultimately disappointing club that was supposed to win the 2006 World Series. No, sir. That squad is now but a bitter memory… and after a series of motor city slips and gaffes including but not limited to Jurrens for Renteria, the brutal rape of their farm system by the merciless Florida Marlins, and a handful of awful contracts best represented by Nate Robertson and Dontrelle Willis, the 2010 Detroit Tigers seem to be more of the weak, purring variety than anything else.
And now that fan favorite Curtis Granderson has been kicked out of the cage, finding fault with this Dave Dombrowski mess is a lot easier than it used to be.
You have Jim Leyland? Yes, and you also have Jim Leyland cut off from nicotine.
You have athlete extraordinaire, Brandon Inge? Yes, and you also have his strikeouts.
You have Johnny Damon? Yes, but you overpaid… and did he come with his wheelchair?
I dunno. It’s not like I hate the Tigers or anything. I mean, I have nothing personal against Detroit save hearing about them ad nauseum via my cantankerous and oft negligent colleague Mr. Allen Krause; but that doesn’t affect my judgment. I simply report the facts, interpreted in my own special way.
And that special way offers this declaration: the Tigers are in for a world of hurt in 2010.
But shhhh. Don’t tell Al. Or Johnny Damon. Or Detroiters, all three or four of them.
And whatever you do, please don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
PS. If you think I offer something like this just to p!ss off RSBS‘ other half, then you are absolutely correct… and almost as diabolically undercutting as I.
For today is January 15! And that means today is Mr. Allen Krause’s 31st birthday!
And since it is my jaded pal’s special day, I thought it best not to rip on how he looks like like a young (albeit more intelligent) Joe Maddon; so instead I am going to go against the RSBS norm and actually do something nice for him!
That’s right, folks. Y’all know that Al is a huge (sometimes annoying) Detroit Tigers fan… so today, to help Mr. Krause celebrate his very own life, I would like to present three awesome Detroit Tigers facts that I researched all by myself (with the help of the RSBS interns).
Happy Birthday, Al old buddy!
Awesome Tigers Fact #1:
Since the birth of Allen Krause, the Detroit Tigers have lost 2,546 games! And that fancy schmancy fact includes four whole seasons with 103 or more losses, like that stellar 2003 season when the Tiggers lost a mind-blowing 119 games!
Awesome Tigers Fact #2:
Despite being Mr. Krause’s boyhood hero while boasting impressive numbers over 20 Major League seasons, good old Alan Trammell is NOT in the Hall of Fame! For real! I’m serious!
Awesome Tigers Fact #3:
This fella made $10 million in 2009 while putting up these gaudy numbers: 1 W, 7.49 ERA, 7.5 BB/9
I have known Mr. Krause for over twelve and a half years now and I can honestly say — without even a smidgen of doubt — that one couldn’t ask for a better friend than Allen.
And I mean the hell out of that.
Happy Birthday, brother!
“I didn’t want to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger or Lou Ferrigno. I wanted to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Lou Ferrigno COMBINED! ON ‘ROIDS! ARRRRRGH!”
“My talent comes from the ‘man upstairs’ and lemme tell ya, the ‘man upstairs’ is F***ING JUICED! ARRRRRGH!“
“Yeah, I take Viagra, but just to stay healthy. It doesn’t help me bang hot chicks for hours and hours and hours at a time! ARRRRRGH!”
My duplicitous and oft abrasive colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, has been busy conjuring up all sorts of facetious baseball scenarios, one of which embraces the Selig-spawned, Selig-spun “world” World Series, proposing to pit the Major League Baseball champion against the… the… Japanese baseball… league champion? What?
First of all, this is a Bud Selig ploy — a major league trick to make you think he’s actually working towards the betterment of the game. Preposterous! The World Series is called the friggin’ World Series because it boasts the two best baseball teams in the WORLD. No Japanese champion can hang with the MLB champion. If they could, then all those Japanese players would already be playing in the MAJOR LEAGUES!
Ah, such treachery. It saddens me to see Mr. Krause, someone so smart and so spry, take such a gigantic dip into the crazy-pool. But wait. Yes… it gets worse…
Some More Crap:
…Because somehow Mr. Krause got it in his head that once Albert Pujols’ contract is up with the Cardinals in 2011, that the perennial MVP candidate will be out to find a new, more financially sexy organization to call his home. Mr. Krause even mentioned the possibility of seeing A.P. wearing an old English “D” across his chest!!!
Total f***ing horse****.
Sorry. Had to go there. Ahem…
Like the Tigers always have Ty Cobb, so too will the Cardinals always have Albert Pujols.
Don’t worry, Al… at least you will always have the image of Alan Trammell in a Tigers uni, forever.
(McGwire image courtesy of Coffee with Adam)
We have already learned much in the first 13 days of 2009. We know who our new representatives to the baseball Hall of Fame will be, even if the lack of transparency and intelligence associated with the voting process make the Electoral College seem positively inspired by comparison. We also know that Alan Trammell will not be entering the hall anytime soon and with that knowledge broke many a young man’s heart. Well, at least mine.
But, there is good news, too. Especially for people like my friend Jeff who are unnaturally taken with ESPN’s sideline reporter, Erin Andrews. It appears that Ms. Andrews was not the only temptress to spring forth from her mother’s womb because she also has a younger (and I might add, much more attractive) sister, Kendra.
That’s right, it now appears that the true battle to be waged by Mr. Lung and myself this season is over the relative merits of the Andrews sisters, not why the AL Central is superior to the NL Central. Obviously there are similarities. For instance the AL, like Kendra, is younger and vastly superior to its elder and more venerable sibling (last season’s World Series win by the Phillies not withstanding). However, this argument will not be settled overnight and we look forward to further exploiting the reporting prowess of Deadspin and Busted Coverage to bring you more of this developing debate.
Christmas is a time for giving. And that’s why I want to thank Jane Heller over at Confessions of a She-Fan for giving me one of the greatest gifts ever. It doesn’t seem like much, just a little article from the NY Times but it provided the one thing we can’t live without: Hope. Now, I still don’t think that Mr. Trammell is going to make it into the Hall but if the Times says he belongs there, who am I to argue? I mean, I can’t think of a single thing they’ve been wrong about. Well, maybe just one thing but really, it’s so minor as to be insignificant.
But, maybe if Jane and the Times can give me hope here, someone can come forward and give me hope in a couple other places. For instance, since we all know that the night is darkest right before the dawn, does that mean that the Lions are about to turn the corner? At the very least, Millen is finally gone. And is it possible that the Tigers will be competitive in the AL Central this year despite their complete failure to make any significant moves so far this offseason? At least Farnsworth is gone.
I don’t know, though. It’s hard to base your hopes for the future on subtraction instead of addition. But as a native Michigander, I can only go with what I know. I mean, this is a state that has single-handedly destroyed its signature industry (granted, with a lot of help from the industry itself) and now sports an impressively gaudy 9.6% unemployment rate. The Lions, industrial contraction and negative job creation? Well, at least we still have the Red Wings.
Achtung! For my esteemed yet often misguided colleague, Mr. Allen Krause has finally done what no one ever thought possible: he emptied his soul of memories sweet and dear to his heart, thus proving that indeed, he does obtain some semblance of emotion, a hint — albeit faint — of feeling.
But just who knew his heart was set on Alan Trammell?
Well, actually, I did… but that’s only because I’ve been listening to Mr. Krause’s Ode-to-Trammell for over eleven years now. Trammell this and Trammell that… Trammell and Whitaker and Lemon and Gibson and Parrish and Trammell and Trammell and TRAMMELL!
Alright. I get it. We get it. Mr. Krause is in love with Alan Trammell.
Fine. There’s nothing wrong with that, Al. And I especially applaud you for realizing that despite your ongoing man-crush and ever-growing infatuation with all things #3, that you are still able to logically conclude that Trammell has no business in the Hall of Fame. Because he doesn’t. If you really want to argue the HOF case of a deserving ex-Detroit Tiger, come to your senses and rally behind the Jack Morris train. (*for more information on the blasphemous errors of Mr. Krause’s ways regarding HOF worthy Tigers, click *here*)
What I (and most probably all RSBS readers) can’t seem to understand is why, if Alan Trammell and Lou Whitaker remain so dear to thy heart, Mr. Krause, could you not find a better picture of this treasured double-play combo than this:
It’s 2008, Al, and with the advent of the interweb, CNN’s ability to “beam” people “up” on live television and the fact that a black man will be the president of US America, one would think you’d be able to find at least one decent picture of your childhood sweethearts.
The one you provided looks awfully similar to this anomaly of reality:
And you’re right, Al, the possibility of Trammell ever donning his face on a Cooperstown plaque is about as possible as Bigfoot piloting a UFO over Detroit during a World Series championship parade.
It just ain’t gonna happen.
So go ahead. Do what you do. Hate me. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.