Just like Ryan Franklin in the 9th, this is going to be quick, disgustingly ugly and will probably include an ERA over 9:
First he tried to score from third when no one was lookin’… then he slid head first and broke his arm… then he was… out. THEN he blamed third base coach Dave Anderson for the boneheadedly aggressive move (not my fault, duh)… and THEN he later apologized to Dave Anderson for blaming him for the boneheadedly aggressive move.
*SARCASM ALERT, SARCASM ALERT*
Considering the overwhelming, undeniable, empirical evidence in this case… I am glad to report that Jesus of Nazareth was soley responsible for Joshy’s change of heart, just as he was responsible for Joshy gettin’ some buttery nipple action at da club a while back.
BERKMAN FOR MVP!
The 2011 season is well under way and… SURPRISE!!!… that’s Lance Berkman posing at the Cardinals best player!
Hey folks, he may be weird lookin’ in a Redbird uni, but he’s the only one in the lineup who’s been solid from the get-go. Go ahead, Albert… just go ahead and think about finding a deal somewhere else… we got number 12!
THE GO-GO-HOME WHITE SOX!
Ozzie Guillen sure is giving Timothy Geithner a run for his money (wink, wink) in the sour face department. Heck, I’d be angry too if my son’s name was Oney (good grief is that really his name???)… I’d also be angry if my team scored runs like crazy, only to see them erased in the latter innings of an otherwise locked-down ballgame when the bullpen wheels start fallin’ off (see Chris Sale, Matt Thornton, etc.).
Can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but, I sorta miss big boy Bobby Jenks. At least with Jenks you’d at least see some emotion when he blew the game.
Hangin’ the head and walkin’ off is a bit too pedestrian for my liking.
Let’s see… in recent days we have learned the following:
The Yankees DON’T always get what they want.
The Red Sox have TWO closers, neither of which commands any fear.
And Al Qaeda is going ALL OUT to make this Christmas a very special one to remember.
Er… wait… that was…
I’m just glad that children’s choir Christmas concerts in Racine, WI will always maintain the traditional standards of the holiday season:
Like they say, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
Hate me ‘cuz I be trolololololol’n, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
And so in this Podcast…
Dear readers galore FINALLY get to meet THE one, the ONLY, Mr. Allen Krause as he joins Jeff and Johanna to discuss all things urgent, all things necessary. And it’s all made possible by science. And hard work. And Skype. Judge for yourself. Among the titillating
topics of discussion: Strasburg as Jesus, the difference between anathema and an enema (it’s important), starting a Pete Rose for US WBC Team Player/Manager petition on Facebook, Gallaraga’s thingy, the Lou Piniella Mailbag and much,
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
Recorded Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Besides Chinatown flea markets and the out-of-this-world chili at Ramova Grill, the best part about living on the Southside of Chicago is having the White Sox play in my own backyard.
Because as a Cardinals fan far removed from my old Busch Stadium stomping grounds, I know I can always find good, learned, baseball-lovin’ folk at New Comiskey (only newbies and yuppies call it The Cell — so I’m told).
And on Monday night, Southsiders came out to the park in droves. It was hot. It was humid. The rain was coming down hard. But Mark Buehrle was on the mound and it’s no secret that White Sox fans love them some Mark Buehrle. Over 36,000 people came out to see him duel the Royals’ Brian Bannister… yes, 36,000! On a Monday night. With an hour long rain delayed start. Against the Royals.
Now that, dear readers, is some serious dedication.
Perhaps the influx of fans was due to the high hopes of a pitcher’s duel.
Well, we didn’t get it.
‘Cuz when Yuniesky Betancourt goes yard, you know the pitching ain’t so great.
Indeed, it was a back and forth battle throughout, until the Sox broke it open in the 7th inning and appeared to have the game in hand.
But Scott Linebrink seemed focused on tempting the Royals’ scouts, who seem to go after the poorest of performers. Yes, Linebrink’s Kyle Farnsworth impression was brilliantly played by blowing a 3 run lead in the 8th on a Mike Jacobs rocket launch over the right field wall.
Fade to black?
Not so fast. Alex Rios walked to start the bottom of the 8th. Scott Podsednik continued his 2005 renaissance with a go-ahead run-scoring double… and then later Ozzie Guillen brought in the Fat Man to seal the deal.
Sure, it was a great game and all… but the whole time I couldn’t take my eyes off the guy sitting in front of me:
Don’t hate ’em ‘cuz they’re right.
Don’t believe me? Just ask Kevin Gregg.
“I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’, and I can prove it.”
— Ed “Butch” Panczko, ruthless Chicago gangster
It is the year 2009, dear readers, and I would think that by now, every single one of us has seen enough cop dramas on television to know that you never, ever, ever tell on yourself. You just don’t do it. Big Papi knows this. So does Roger Clemens. Why is it then that the Chicago White Sox — who reside not far from the famed warehouse district were body after lifeless body went to disappear forever — do not understand this golden rule of foul play?
First we watched as Bobby Jenks told the whole world that he purposely threw at Ian Kinsler — which netted him a $750 fine and a watchful eye from MLB brass — and now we have Ozzie Guillen himself blabbing to anyone who will listen that he’s out to bean anyone whom he suspects of throwing at his guys. What next? Kenny Williams owns up to jaywalking? Check.
Look, it’s one thing to protect your team and head-hunt in retaliation. Hell, in this game, it’s expected! But to openly admit that you are going to throw at people, to announce to everyone that you intend on hurting someone, to alert the league that you’re going to send a message… well, that is just plain irresponsible. And dumb.
Yep. Tell a story. Do the opposite. Leave ’em guessin’.
That, my friends, is the Chicago way.
Even political nimrod figurehead Rod Blagojevich knows this.
And he’s a Cubs fan.
What’s your excuse, White Sox?
Hate me ‘cuz I put it out there, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(*Ozzie Guillen’s grill image courtesy of Da Bronx Bombers)
Players across the sports spectrum seem to be feeling their oats the
past couple weeks. The Lakers-Rockets NBA series has turned into a
brawl and baseball has seen several ejections and suspensions handed
down over the last several days. Are we seeing the effects of over (or
under) officiating or are players really more on edge these days?
Suspensions, brawls, warnings, headhunters, beanballs, ejections… these are all integral tenets of the sports we love. Without them, the stakes would be as dramatic as an afternoon pinochle tournament at your local retirement home (and even those can turn violent without proper supervision).
Personally, I could care less about what the Los Angeles Lakers of Los Angeles are fighting about with the Houston Rockets (those are basketball teams, right?). But perennial crybaby and major league fire-starter Milton Bradley? Foot-in-mouth Bobby Jenks? Two-packs-a-day Jimmy Leyland?
Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!
Indeed, the cast of characters may change from year to year, but the subtle game of intimidating your opponent and firing up your team with guts, fists and butt-busting fastballs hasn’t. Ty Cobb anyone?
No matter what the era, baseball players have always found a harmonious balance of edge and competitiveness. When your livelihood is on the line, you bet you’re gonna go out and stand up for yourself. Those who don’t… well, they end up like Mr. Krause, pushing pencils and checking email forty times a day.
Now I don’t propose an increase to the level of violence on the field; but hell, don’t peel it back. I need that respite of poorly timed right hooks (see Shields v. Crisp, 2008), knee-buckling vengeance (see Bradley v. The World, 2007) and knuckles-to-skull contact (see Ryan v. Ventura, 1993). Anyone who says he/she doesn’t is a liar.
Baseball does not suffer from under or over officiating. It’s doing just fine the way it is. Fights, ejections, suspensions… they’re all just a part of the game. When it becomes bedlam…
… well, then we might have to reevaluate.
Until then, just keep on hating me. But don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
***SEND US YOUR FILIBUSTERS****
Something on your mind? Want to see Jeff and Al sweat (separately, not together, eww)? Think you got a real stumper? Send us your Filibuster question(s) by commenting or emailing them to us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
***Pictures of hot chicks also welcome.
Anything wrong with that? Not in my opinion. In a world full of greed, hate, debauchery and Cubs baseball, I find solace knowing that even the tireless spin-doctoring and smoke-screening of Rod Blagojevich eventually falls on the deaf ears of a nation distracted with the task of rebuilding itself.
Blago’s days as governor are as numbered as Joe Morgan is annoying; and soon, he will just be another political coelacanth — a footnote in the oppression and wasted tax-dollars of a people.
In my fervent bidding adieu, I refuse to let Blago’s self-indulgent, gloomy demise get me down. The older I get, the more I realize how little my brain can actually remember if not trained otherwise; thus, I find it best to replace negativity with post-partisan positivity. So it is, on this four degree Sunday afternoon, with a broken heart and three cups of coffee too many, that I find grace in the baseball-politico memories dearest to me.
Of course, there are always the Joe Carters, the Kirk Gibsons, the Ozzie Smiths… the inauguration of a new hope for my country… those are all givens. Today I focus on the obscure, the seemingly minute, the more poignant personal moments that help me to forget about what an awful place this earth can be sometimes. And so I begin…
Ozzie Guillen Goes to Bobby Jenks
A move he’s made several times, but never as interesting as it was during the 2005 post-season when Ozzie motioned for Jenks by extending his arms out sideways as if to say: “Bring in the fat fella.”
Talking to Carlos Lee Outside Wrigley Field
Having gone hitless against Ted Lilly that night, I was stunned to see a smiling Carlos Lee on the corner of Sheffield and Addison waiting to get on the Astros player’s bus. I approached him — all gargantuan 230 plus pounds of him — and flippantly asked: “Caballo, what happened?”
“Ball move too much, man.”
I’m still laughing at that one.
“Yes We Can” Viral Video
Sure, I admit I’m a sucker for inspirational acts of creativity… this one still gets me.
Brian Anderson’s Catch
Picture it, October 1, 2008… a one game playoff between the White Sox and Twins to crown the AL Central winner, and a Jim Thome homerun is all that separates the two when we reach the top of the ninth and two outs. A sharp flare streamlines to right center field, in comes Brian Anderson… instant party on the Southside.
Bill Clinton on Carroll Quigley, DNC 1992
As a young, impressionable, questioning 12 year-old, this quote pushed me in to politics… to stay.
Adam Wainwright’s Curveball
Whether it was striking out Carlos Beltran looking or Brandon Inge swinging, I’ve never seen a more devastating hook — ever.
Barack Obama’s 2004 DNC Keynote Address
I thought a change was a comin’… didn’t know it was going to take so long, but it got me revved up nonetheless.
Yadier Molina Hitting .304 in 2008
After the rocket homerun he hit off Aaron Heilman to beat the Mets in the 2006 NLCS, Molina became my indisputable hero. To see him blossom into a true hitter in conjunction with his unrivaled defensive skills just makes me want to hug the guy any chance I get. Yadi, you out there, pal? Let’s hook that up.
Grandma Lois Talking Baseball
May she rest in peace, my beloved grandmother was talking Cardinals baseball like no other 84 year-old I knew. Before the 2004 season, she told me: “It’d be nice to see Edmonds and Rolen have really good years.” She died on April 20, 2004; Jimmy and Scott both put up career numbers and vied for the MVP. I know she’s still smiling about that one.
Post 9/11 Baseball in New York
I’d be hard pressed to find a more inspiring, more electric, more communal surge of patriotic energy and overall bipartisan goodwill towards all through the greatest game on earth than what took place in New York City that fall.
I still get goosebumps just thinking of it.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Indeed, after that long and winding baseball-politico season and the ominousness of losing every dime I’ve ever saved due to the current worldwide economic crisis, I deserved a damn vacation.
And vacation I did.
Which reminds me, don’t you just hate when you meet the perfect girl and you hit it off right away — so much so that you spend the entire day with her into the evening through the night and find out the next day that she’s your cousin?
Happens to me every year.
But that’s not what I want to focus on today. No. You see, dear readers, while on my vacation, I missed out on some very important happenings: like Gov. Sarah Palin‘s adamant cry to NBC’s Matt Lauer that during the campaign she never got involved with that “inside baseball stuff” that supposedly divided her camp from Sen. McCain’s.
Look, I don’t even pretend to know what she meant by calling it “inside baseball stuff” seeing how it had absolutely nothing to do with baseball; however, I can appreciate her obviously sentimental regard for greatest game on earth and implying that indeed, it’s complicated.
Because it is.
The coast is clear now, but how is it that the Cardinals were even considering a trade for Matt Holliday? A trade that would send away at least two (maybe more) of our most talented youngsters and leave us with a one-year rental of a player represented by Scott Boras? Has John Mozeliak officially lost his friggin’ mind?
The answer to that question is yes and I’m quite sure we St. Louis fans haven’t even seen the beginning of it. Stock up on the painkillers, folks; 2009 could be a long one.
And how is it that Lou Piniella received the Manager of the Year Award? Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing but respect for Sweet Lou and I admire his guile, but this year he did what he was supposed to do (sorta) which was manage an extremely talented, high-priced ball-club to a winning season. That’s like me getting rewarded for drinking beer and watching football on Sundays. That’s what I do, people!
The Cubs were on cruise control all season until October and Lou didn’t have to work nearly as hard as the likes of Tony LaRussa or Joe Torre to get the job done with less talent.
The one thing Lou was supposed to do this year (win playoff games) never happened. I see that as one thing and one thing only: failure. F-A-I-L-U-R-E.
On the other side of the Second City (my side), complications arise with Jermaine Dye and his future in a White Sox uniform. Rumor is: Kenny Williams wants to get some fresh legs in exchange for the veteran outfielder who had a resurgent season in 2008. I understand Williams’ point of view, but I’m pretty sure there will be rioting in the streets if Dye is traded away. Even more rioting if Big Fat Bobby Jenks is dealt (which is also floating around the rumormill).
Just let me know if and when that’s going to happen, Kenny, because I’ll make sure to be back in South Padre until the Southside firebombing lets up.
I suppose Gov. Palin was right. This “inside baseball stuff” is complicated. And I gotta hand it to the Republicans. They ran a
good laughable race. And the tides seem to be turning for the GOP: Mark Foley, while still making excuses for his pedophilia, is at least speaking to the media again; Alaska has more problems than just Palinmania; and Norm Coleman has a 209 vote lead (as I write this).
Like my boy Tupac used to always say: “Ya gotta keep ya head up.”
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Tommy LaSorda is fat. I mean really fat. So is John Kruk. Which current
ballplayer or manager is most likely to become grotesquely obese like
these two men?
Due to the recent developments and growing notoriety of Red State Blue State, it is certainly arguable that I may have lost any sense of humility I once had. My attorney has advised me to remain silent on this issue, so I will; however, I cannot stop myself from pointing out the increasingly shallow nature of my colleague, Allen Krause. After much deliberation, my agent has advised me to go ahead and tackle this insensitive inquiry despite the possible repercussions because “there is no such thing as bad press.”
So, Al, my aura and I will now address your lowbrow turn from inquisitive, thought-provoking debate:
Yeah, Lasorda is overweight. Kruk is overweight. A slew of baseball folks easily fit into that dangerous weight category. But you know what? That’s just one of the many reasons why I enjoy the game of baseball more than any other sport.
How many competitive sports do you know where a 300 pound man without muscle tone toting around a big, paunch beer belly can be considered a real athlete? Sure, the NFL has 300+ pound men all over the field, but those guys work out and look good (for the most part). Meanhwile, big slobby-lookin’ dudes like David Wells, Bobby Jenks and David Weathers thrive as dominant athletes… well, Wells (used to) and Jenks (does) anyway.
I find it quite satisfying seeing an everyday-lookin’ joe like Jenks or Kruk achieve all that success with such a corpulent physique. It reminds me that baseball is a game that anyone can play — fat guys included — so it creates the illusion that even I, a 29 year old, 5’8, 155 lb. Mandarin-speaking white guy with a 48 mph fastball and a slider that always hangs, could possibly make it to the Big Leagues. Okay, maybe I’m totally wrong on that… but you get my point.
Of course, this isn’t what Mr. Krause wants to hear. What he is really asking is which current manager/player is most likely to be the face of NutriSystem, Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig.
That is the dumbest question I have ever heard, Al, and you should be ashamed for taking up such precious MLBlog space by asking it. The 2008 season has begun, your team stinks, my team is in first place, the Jason Grilli ERA Watch has dipped considerably (8.44 at the time of this publication), the Diamondbacks are the best team in baseball, the Sawx v. Evil Empire series is in full-force and all you can muster out of that skinny little head of yours is ‘who will be the fattest person in baseball?’
I see what you’re trying to do: you’re trying to paint me into a corner, force me to make a fool of myself and talk about something else so we will be distracted from the atrocities of the Tigers and your point of view. Mr. Krause, I will not subject our readers to such shallow diatribes.
But I will post some pictures of my favorite plus-size ballplayers, past and present:
So there you have it. 9 of my favorite players with above average appetites. All this writing about it is making me hungry. I think I’ll just have an apple.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.