Does Justin Verlander ever sweat? Seriously, does he? Not only does his velocity rise late in the game, but he also does it with an air of easiness that makes us mortals hate ourselves as we pile on another helping of chips and salsa.
I don’t doubt he’s one of the hardest workers in baseball. Like Chuck Norris, Justin Verlander’s off days are probably harder than any busy day at the office I’ve ever had to endure. In fact, I bet Verlander could kick Norris’ butt, especially since Chuck is currently distracted by the unfounded promises of his invisible friend.
Chris Sale has a Verlanderish look in his eye. It says: I’m here to kick some ass and I’m gonna keep a straight, determined growly face just to show you that I really am an animal inside. Except once the lid comes off that attitude and runners start spilling onto the basepaths, Sale loses his game face.
Maybe he just needs time to work on it.
It took Verlander some time too. This whole ‘getting stronger as the game goes on’ phenomenon wasn’t something that Verlander started his Big League career with. He learned it. He perfected it. And now he’s cutting through a hot knife with butter and swimming through land and threatening death with a near-Verlander experience.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m rallying around Mr. Krause’s hero today, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Happy Labor Day!
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!
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.