As the enemy begins yet another chapter in its century-long battle against awful, I can’t help but reflect on the one-and-done tenure of Mr. Mike Quade. I will not question the hearty baseball acumen of the man; he’s been around this long, so he must know something. But a leader of men he is not.
For me, his ascendancy of idiocy became relevant when his unruly, wild and uncontainable club donned t-shirts at Wrigley during batting practice that said “F**k the Goat” in big red letters across the back. When later asked about the “goat”, Quade said he had never even heard of the curse of the billy goat, that to him, it was just a restaurant.
I was never able to determine whether his supreme stupidity was a) that he really hadn’t heard of it or b) that he had, and he was just stupid enough to think we would actually believe him.
Either way, STUPID.
I’m not saying leaders of men need to know everything there is to know about anything and everything, but they certainly do need to surround themselves with people who are informed on myriad subjects, and they must also have enough tact to know when they’re stepping into a great big pile of nast.
So if the sexual harassment charges against Herman Cain and his playfully flippant response to them haven’t deterred you from considering him as a presidential candidate, hopefully this video will:
This cannot happen, people. This man cannot be seriously considered for the presidency. The Republicans are in deep shizz. And they know it. It’s just too bad that the answer to their problems is right there, continuously ignored, continuously shut out.
It makes me very, very sad.
Hate me. Fine. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
At this very moment, as I sit here writing this blog a long, long way from Comerica Park, the Tigers are attempting to sew up the AL Central title. But I’m worried. Very worried. I mean, there are the usual reasons as I explained the other day but this time there’s a much more relevant reason. Comerica Park is on the cover of Sports Illustrated.
Now, I don’t know that the SI cover jinx applies to ballparks or cities but why would SI even risk it? It’s not as though the Detroit (or the state of Michigan for that matter) has anything else going for it. Yeah, the Lions may have finally won and the University of Michigan has eked out some close victories. But that’s no reason to be going around messing with curses. That’s some potent stuff.
I’m not really a superstitious man. I mean, it’s not my fault that my teams do better when I don’t watch them. That’s just how it is. But the SI cover? That’s fact. Just like the Madden cover is fact for the NFL. I don’t buy all this “regression from the mean,” scientific mumbo-jumbo. I believe what I see and what I see is that Sports Illustrated jinxes people by placing them on the cover.
And when you take all of this to its (il)logical extreme, does this mean that all the people sitting in the stands when the picture of the park was taken are jinxed, too? Thanks a lot, Sports Illustrated. Just what Detroit needs: more bad luck.
I have an idea, though. I’m inviting you, SI, to come visit Detroit with me. I have a beautiful old building with a very special elevator shaft I’d love to show you. Make sure you dress warm.
The world premier… of an RSBS original…
Produced, shot and edited by Theo Roll.
Directed by Jeffery Lung.
Starring James Tierney as Jesus.
Performed by Mauf Tauk.
Mauf Tauk is Jeff and Theo.
**Pass it on, folks. Let’s get the word out. Please send this link to everyone you know. We make this thing go viral and more RSBS baseball-related hilarity will certainly flourish.**
*Note: Kirk Gibson won the MVP in ’88, but it doesn’t rhyme and we’re cool like dat so get over it.
Despite their usual relegation to fodder for debates on controversial testing and (disputed) lack of souls, animals have recently clawed themselves into the news for other reasons. For instance, you had to have been living under a rock to have missed the news about the new dog in the White House. Economic meltdown and Limbaugh inspired populism be damned! There’s much more important news to be discussed.
But it seems that our quadrupedal mammalian friends take an interest in more than just politics. Various baseball curses have been blamed on various animals over the years and considering the superstitious lot that seems drawn to baseball, it should come as no surprise. And recently these curse carrying vehicles of diabolical providence have once again reared their frightening and yet oh so soft and fluffy heads.
On opening night at Citi Field, a cat stole the show as the Mets fell to defeat and fans wondered if perhaps this was a sign.
But even more disturbing for lovers of felines and haters of curses was the way a similar situation was handled at Wrigley Field this past week. Of course the video is no longer available as MLB, in its infinite wisdom, forced it off of YouTube but the controversy has continued as some objected to the handling of the animal by Wrigley Field security.
No matter what your thoughts might be on the rash of streaking cat incidents, it seems clear that these are not isolated events. Perhaps Douglas Adams had it wrong and it’s not the mice who are in charge, but rather the cats and they are trying to give us a sign. Either way, we here at RSBS will keep you posted on all important cat-based developments in baseball over the course of the season.
I have been punched in the back of the head. I have been called a f^g. I have been kicked in the legs while relieving myself in the men’s room in between innings.
I have been told my mother will rot in hell. I have had beer thrown on me. I have been spit on.
So it is certainly no surprise to me that a bunch of Wrigleyville yahoos placed a severed goat head atop the infamously scary Harry Caray statue on the corner of Sheffield and Addison yesterday.
The curse of the billy goat — still haunting the not-so-friendly-if-you-wear-Cardinal-red confines — lives on, dear readers; and apparently, people still take it seriously. Very seriously.
They take it so seriously that they are willing to act like bigger a-holes than they are already perceived to be.
But such is life as a “lovable loser”, I suppose.
Impressed was I last year, before the National League Division Series, when the Cubs went for a more subtle approach to ending their poor luck: praying to God. After the Greek Orthodox Reverend Father spread holy water throughout the clubhouse, Ryan Dempster responded by quickly walking seven batters; and the Cubs went on to lose three straight lackluster games to the Los Angeles (perhaps Holy) Dodgers.
Guess God don’t like no posers, ya’ll.
I was just thinking, Cub fans: perhaps ye should combine thy wasted efforts into one successful go-for-all. Call on Bishop Tom Burns and his iconic regimental mascot (a goat no less) to bless thy dump of a field in that oh-so-vigilante neighborhood and ask him to pray for your forgiveness — for all thy slander-slinging, grudge-grovelling and curse-coveting.
Couldn’t hurt, right?
Well… nah… I just realized, when your fan base is more known for this…
…than winning baseball games, you really don’t have a prayer, do you?
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.