Tagged: Cardinals

The Filibuster

It looks like Albert is off to a rough start in LA.  Have you caught yourself checking in on him yet?

Ian
Paris, TX
___________________________________

If by “checking in on him” you mean stalking his Facebook page, dialing his phone number then hanging up real quick and annoyingly asking our mutual friends if he’s really happy with his new lover, then no.  I haven’t done any of that.

But I have watched an unhealthy amount of Angels games early this season (BECAUSE I CAN’T HELP MYSELF) and I have to admit: even watching Albert struggle early on is no consolation for his loss.  There is no consolation.  Period.  None.  So it does me no good to dwell on it anymore.

IT’S OVER.  FOREVER.

And that’s okay.

It is no secret that Albert’s decision to leave the St. Louis Cardinals left me DEVASTATED.  I was in deep mourning for most of January.  As February rolled along, I found myself dealing with the five stages of grief more intimately than I ever wanted. But by the end of March, I’d finally reached the road of acceptance.  I had no power to change anything anyway, so I could choose to be miserable or I could choose to move on.

I chose to move on.

Albert Pujols provided me with some of the greatest memories of my entire life.  It is my decision to hold those memories dear, to never let go, but to also accept the change that is reality and be one with it.  Harboring any ill will towards the man who brought me such joy has zero benefits.  Just like I wish myriad ex-girlfriends the best in their individual lives post-Jeff, I also wish Albert the best.  That being said, when he strikes out or grounds into a double-play, I become human at times and secretly engage in a bit of childish taunting.  But this is not done with a hateful or angry tone.  I am mindful of it. I acknowledge its silliness. I immediately let it go.

AP may not be off to a torrid start when it comes to power numbers, but the homers and RBIs are going to come.  And when they do, I’ll tip my cap just as I would anyone else: while hollerin’ “GO CARDINALS!!!”

Hate me.  I’m cool with it.  Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

An Evening with Yu

It may not have been Strasmas, but according to the lunar calendar (and millions of Japanese people) April 9th proved to be an equally auspicious day, no matter what, because it was the very first Major League appearance by the highly touted (and valiantly unashamed to be naked) Yu Darvish.

Like you would expect, I made an evening of it.  Here’s a play-by-play:

4:30 p.m.
Still at work.  I have looked at the clock every minute for the last thirty minutes, and will continue to do so for thirty more.  I finish up the last of my TPS reports, turn them in to my boss and shriek when he yells “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS???”

5:30 p.m.
At the gym.  Working on my… nah, who am I kidding, every time I look at a hot chick working out next to me she has Yu Darvish’s face, which I find as distracting as I do disgusting.  Going home now.

6:30 p.m.
Dinner (sushi, of course) has been eaten.  Feet are up.  Beer is in hand.  Let’s DO THIS!  *Belch*

7:05 p.m.
FSSW misses Darvish’s first pitch.  Nice work, dingleberries.  The biggest pitch of the year so far and you miss it.  They come back from commercial break and the count is already 1-0 to Chone Figgins.  AGGGHH!!!  Then Darvish quickly walks him.  Um… this is not how it’s supposed to go, guys.

7:09 p.m
After striking out Ackley on a NAAASTY breaking ball, Ichiro steps in.  Japan loses its mind.  Then Ichiro singles on a blooper to left and, already, I’m realizing Yu ain’t Strasburg (yet).

7:16 p.m.
Now Justin Smoak is on first, bases are loaded with one out for Kyle Seager.  Bases loaded?  I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR NO BASES LOADED!!!

7:18 p.m.
Two-run gapper to right and now I’m pissed.  I could have been out on a date tonight!  With a real, live woman!  And I passed it up for this crap???!!!  WTF are YU DOING!?!?!

7:23 p.m.
Darvish makes Miguel Olivo look like Johnny Bench and I’m bored.  More Daisuke, less Nomo.  Not even close to Strasburg.  He doesn’t even have a weird hitch in his delivery like all the Japanese greats do!

7:25 p.m.
He just walked in a run.  It’s 4-0.  EFF THIS.

Seriously, I know this is a small sample size, but I ain’t impressed and I’m changing the channel… to watch Freese and Holliday and Molina (they all homer)… CHAMPIONS.

Hate me.  I understand.  Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

***

Once the game was over, it was evident he battled back and settled down.  The offense helped him out and he recovered well, and even fooled some hitters.  But the hoopla was a bit much for me for him not to deliver with jazz hands.  Or maybe I’ve just been spoiled by so much great pitching the last couple years that I expect greatness every game.  Either way, I’ll check in again next time.  I just ain’t makin’ a night of it.

Three Up, Three Down

Just like a rainbow themed slap bracelet, this is gonna be loud, colorful and could quite possibly cause a ripple in your otherwise tame relationship.

The Iron Fist of King Bud’s Court
Troy Tulowitzki pisses off Ubaldo Jimenez.  Jimenez subsequently beans Tulowitzki.  Jimenez gets slammed with a 5-game suspension.  And speaks:

“I can’t control what people say. People act like this is the first time that somebody got hit. It happens in the game. That’s part of the game. It’s always been part of the game.”

Ubaldo is right.  We don’t know if it was on purpose.  Beanballs happen all the time.  We can assume it was intentional considering the circumstances, but we can’t be sure beyond a reasonable doubt.  This is the beauty of the unwritten rules of baseball, a game where players police themselves and do what they gotta do to survive.  But alas, there is no constitution in King Bud’s dictatorship.  If these guys didn’t bank millions of dollars I’d expect an uprise.

If Only 4 Days Meant “Forever”
Pennsylvania Taliban leader, Rick Santorum, is taking 4 days off from his fledgeling  (not to mention INSANE) republican primary campaign.  Why?  I dunno.  Maybe he realizes a 4th grade life skills level isn’t enough to be in such a demanding position.  Maybe he fears a widespread Santorum epidemic.  Or maybe his invisible friend in the sky who hates women and gay people told him to.  I don’t know.  I only wish it were forever.

The Heat Is On!
Baseball is back to FULL THROTTLE, my friends, and that means no more dirt kickin’, no more gloomy day sobfests, no more Perfect Strangers marathons on sleepless nights (okay, maybe I can’t go that far, yet).  But the truth is: baseball is back for a long, long time.  So let’s live!  To celebrate, Igive you the song I remember most from my youthful, endless summers at Busch II.  Whenever I hear this song, I immediately picture an Ozzie to Tommy to Jack double-play.

Happy Friday!

Jeff

One Day to Unite Them All!

It’s Opening Day, y’all!!!  HOLLLLLLLLAAAAAA!!!

When it comes to my favorite holidays there is, of course, April Fool’s Day, National Cleavage Day and My Bent and Oft Hoodwinked Colleague Gets PWNED by a Commenter Day.

But nothing — I repeat: NO-THING beats Opening Day.

To celebrate, I give you DRUNK Rick Sutcliffe:

Now, if we could just get a Play Tennis In Your Underwear Day.

Happy Opening Day and Let’s Go Cards!

Jeff

The Tricks They Play!

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.

FANTASTIC!

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.

Peace,

Jeff

Somebody Taze Me!

This Wednesday officially kicks off the 2012 MLB season and even though I’ll probably be fast asleep while it unfolds in the Far East, I’m sure the Japanese will be plenty excited about watching two awful teams compete against one another, especially since there’s at least one Suzuki per nine.

On this side of the pond, we have much, MUCH more to look forward to.  In fact, I might need a good tazing before the Cardinals open up in Miami, just so I’m forced to sit down!

Here are some of the things that have me baseball-tweaking:

The GOOD Blue Jays Uniforms Are Back!
Still mesmerized by the awful logo redesign and poor color scheme that killed Joe Carter’s Blue Jays look in 2003, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see the old logo back.  And royal blue!  No gray!  Alongside the Cardinals, Yankees, Dodgers and Red Sox, I gotta say the classic Jays uni is about as smart and sleek as baseball uniforms come.

Grant Balfour Finally Gets to Be  a Closer!
The 34-year old Aussie has been quietly waiting in the wings of every team he’s been on and now, finally, the Oakland A’s are giving him a shot at the closer role.  I still think closers are overrated, but I like to think that maybe, if Balfour performs well in his new role, he might finally get paid what he’s worth.  His numbers are fantastic and most people don’t even know who he is.  I’m afraid playing in Oakland won’t help his popularity, but maybe Billy Beane will throw him another peanut.  (Also, if you’re wondering, yes, Balfour’s fastball does have an Australian accent.)

Bobby Valentine!
I love Bobby Valentine.  For myriad reasons.  He’s cocky.  He’s loud.  His feelings get hurt.  He’s controversial.  He pisses off players, coaches, umpires.  And he’s a goddamn baseball genius.  HOLLA!!!

Jamie Moyer!
Good grief.  The dude is gonna be FIFTY this year.  FIFTY YEARS OLD.  And he’s still gettin’ guys out.  I absolutely love that.  I love him!  How can you not?!?!

And finally… you probably knew this was coming but…

WE ARE CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD.

ALL.

YEAR.

LONG.

Hate me ‘cuz I’m loud, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Truly Master of His Domain

It’s nice to be the world champion in something.  For instance, Jeff still has another few months during which the Cardinals are the world champions in baseball.  That’s a good feeling.  Me, I’m not part of a world champion anything.  But when I consider the possibilities, things in which one could be world champion, well…

[youtube http://youtu.be/SNH5EUw7gxk]

…I think I’m all right being regular old me.  It certainly beats that title.

-A