What happened to the Twins?
Saint Paul, MN
Ah, yes, the Minnesota Twins. What did happen to those paragons of fundamentally sound baseball? An analysis of such depth requires patience, dedication and an insatiable hunger for the truth, so I put the RSBS interns to the task and they have provided the following slide show:
Nope, not even the healthy return of Morneau could make the pain of the above image go away. In fact, 2012 sorta seems like a good time to reset everything. Surprisingly, the Twins do have some decent offensive production (Mauer, Morneau, Willingham, Plouffe), but their pitching has been atrocious. Like, Kent Hrbek farting in your face type of “atrocious”. The average ERA of their six starters is over 5 and they have been blown out (lost by 5+ more runs) 23 times so far. And the bullpen? YIKES! Don’t ask them to hold a lead ‘cuz it’ll be difficult!
Like old baseball men love to say, “You’re only as good as your pitching”, and, well, when your pitching resembles the bottom of a porta-potty and the rest of the team can’t stay healthy, awful is pretty much what ya get. Don’t believe me? Ask the perennial sCrUBS.
Hate me ‘cuz I made you look at that famous Mauer back hair guy again, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Jeff (and interns)
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Sunday was my first opportunity to get to the ballpark in 2012, so I grabbed a friend, put on some summery clothes and headed to Sox Park for Jackie Robinson Day!
I’ve seen some great baseball on Jackie Robinson Days past, all of which were pitchers duels (my drug of choice), but with a Rick Porcello v. Chris Sale matchup looming, I wasn’t expecting much. The pair would end up surprising me, but that wasn’t all:
- This was the FIRST April baseball game in Chicago I have ever attended where a hat, gloves and scarf were not needed. No joke. I was in a t-shirt. Sweating at times.
- Miggy can play D. I hung two stars on my scorecard for him, including a barehanded grab-and-throw that nailed a speedy Alexei Ramirez at first.
- I understand the importance of Jackie Robinson Day and all, but is it necessary that EVERY player and EVERY coach wears the same number 42? It is a scorecard junkie’s worst nightmare! Every time I looked up I had no idea who was doing what.
- And those ugly throwback ’72 Sunday home game red-pinstriped White Sox unis didn’t last past the 70s for a reason. They are HIDEOUS. Throw them out! Along with Alex Rios!
- It was a day game. Sure it was a bit overcast, but there was sunlight. Plenty of it. But that didn’t stop the White Sox personnel from turning ALL the stadium lights on like it was a night game! There was WAAAAY too much light. WASTED light! I know ‘Merica is a nation of excess, but good grief.
- Despite the new uniform, Prince Fielder is still fat.
Hate me ‘cuz I take tedious notes, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right!
A Walk in the Park with the Hill People
Juan Pierre has statistically climbed up to almost above water! His WARP is back to 1.0! He’s been doin it to the baseball world, wackin em in the nuts and tellin em to “say hello to your mom for me.” Just two weeks ago I sat here and made the case that he’s the worst player in baseball and he has responded tenfold.
*EATING A GORDITA FULL OF CROW RIGHT NOW*
Unlike Roy Halladay, who turned into a melty pile of goo in this Chicago heat, JP has been full tilt boogie-smackin the ball around and willed the Sox back into contention. The White Sox can turn it around. I BELIEVE THIS. Jeff has missed JP’s musk but it’s back. Until further notice the Cubs are off Jo Jo’s radar so its south side excitement for me here on out. When I’m at Wrigley these days I turn into Hedley Lamarr and scream out “drive me off this picture!!”
Meanwhile, Mike Quade is weird and is currently writing his farewell memoir on how to effectively lose your first managerial job after just one season. He’s driving the already sucky Cubs off into the grand canyon of craptitude. The last time I saw him he was rolling down a hill, muttering something to himself.
In my scary hypothetical world, I have always been unjust in the notion that going to a White Sox game feels a lot like hanging out with the children of the corn. That’s not fair. It’s a great park and the food blows away anything you’ll find at Wrigley.
AND… it’s a much more pleasurable place to “drop the kids off”.
THIS IS IMPORTANT.
So get yer Diesox Blackhard fan on and enjoy this gem.
And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles…
Jeff and Johanna dig into the bowels of the current Major League season and compare
sizes opinions on myriad topics, including but not limited to what makes an ideal fanboy merkin, the Cubbies‘ goat fiasco, Pat Burrell’s unfortunate meeting with a wall and much, much more! … all to make you laughy-hurty-face!
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Subscribe to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
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Recorded Saturday, June 18, 2011
The last thing I want to do on this fine Saturday afternoon is give any more attention to bumspazz homophobe trainwreck Roger McDowell, but I am having problems dealing with the hate-induced rant that caused him to scream: “kids don’t belong in the (bleeping) ballpark!”
Sorry, McDowell. You are a bonafide jerkwad.
And a waste of our national pastime’s space.
Dude, kids ARE the ballpark.
And for me, thinking back to my childhood days… about the wonders of green astroturf lighting up my eyes on a breezy summer day, sharing a bag of roasted peanuts with my old man, reciting player tidbits I memorized from the backs of baseball cards… I smile now, just as big and just as bright as I did then.
Because life at home wasn’t always great.
My mom and dad didn’t love each other anymore. My sister and I were separated by 120 miles. And I had a penchant for being passive-aggressive… all quiet and bottled up until BOOM — someone got hurt.
At the ballpark — a magical otherworld where all of life’s problems were strictly prohibited — I could just be me.
I could just be a kid.
I could just be…
Hate me ‘cuz I make up words (sometimes), just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
“You don’t boo your own team. I don’t care who
you are or what you say or just because you spent your money to
come here to watch us play that somebody happens to make one bad
pitch and give up a homer and you are going to start booing?”
–Ryan Franklin, April 20, 2011
Um… okay. My patience is… er… nah, forget it. I don’t have any patience anymore!!!
We’re NOT TALKING about JUST ONE PITCH, Mr. Franklin. We’re NOT TALKING about JUST ONE YACKED performance. We’re TALKING about the difference of 4 or 5 games in the WIN column.
And it’s only April!!!
So yeah. Do your job. Get guys out.
THEN we’ll stop booing.
Keep this in mind, sir: YOU make millions of dollars whether you f*** up or not.
WE, the FANS, we are the ONES who KEEP YOU EMPLOYED by dishing out $45 (or more) per game, per SEAT… the ones getting raped by beer vendors selling $8 bottles of crap (Bud Light)… the ones who have to put up with your whiny whimpers to the reporters in the press.
We have every damn right to boo your @$$.
You don’t like it?
STOP LOSING GAMES ALL BY YOURSELF.
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
You don’t have to be a White Sox fan to let this badass commercial affect you:
Of course, if you are a White Sox fan, you probably feel a little more charged than those who aren’t but still, the theatrics of it all are pretty universal. Baseball is coming.
And it’s gonna rock our worlds.
In the second grade, I was asked by my teacher where I wanted to live when I grow up. While most most kids in the class answered with a city name, or, next to their parents’ house, I calmly replied: “anywhere that is walking distance to a ballpark.”
Well, I certainly made that dream come true. It may not be St. Louis’ Soulard, but Chicago’s Bridgeport neighborhood (where I make my home) is definitely a great place to live, especially in the summer time. There really is nothing like coming home for work, changing into comfortable shoes and walking down to New Comiskey to scalp some tickets to take in a game on a whim.
And ya never know… ‘cuz in any given game, anything could happen.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.