While on the subject of tragically sweeping heartache, I guess by now everybody knows that Kourtney Kardashian is preggers with that toolbox Scott Something-or-Other’s kid, once again dashing my dreams of landing her on my “fantasy team” and rendering one of the hottest (and dumbest) free agents officially off the market.
Great. Just great. First some spazzbot ruined any chance I had at “getting close” to Erin Andrews by sneaking into her hotel room… and now this?
Still, dear readers, let us remember that it is often in the worst of times that we find the truest and simplest joys in life. Sure, the Cardinals got swept in the NLDS. But hey, we’re not the Cubs! True, President Obama hasn’t solved US America’s economic crisis… or the health care crisis… or, well, any crisis. But hey, he’s not George W. Bush! And well, okay, Kourtney’s probably not gonna have my baby now. But hey, at least I’ll never have to face the awful task of actually listening to her talk for any length of time!
Not that I would have anyway, ‘cuz, well, y’know, hers is one of the most annoying voices “like um, y’know, like, ever or whatever.” I’m just sayin…
I think I’ll leave that opportunity to Mr. Krause. He’s always been the adventure half of RSBS.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m sly, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
That’s exactly what my socially fledgling and oft baseball addled colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, did over the weekend. With this one simple quote…
With the lineup they have at the plate and a ridiculous cast of pitchers, the pennant is theirs to lose. But lose it they will.
…Mr. Krause ignited the unbridled anger of Bombers fans across US America. For example:
Some troll who goes by “kb24” commented:
“Jeff Lung and Allen Krause are f***** a** losers! Have fun when the
Yankees win the World Series a**holes!”
“So, the Yankees will lose again, like they always do? You should
probably follow roller derby, or another sport with a shallow
history…where people who write Blogs don’t have to know that the team
they are calling “losers” are the winningest team in sports history.”
Hey dude, how’d you know Al loves roller derby? I am quite pleasantly surprised you had the time to investigate this little nugget of fact after your demanding schedule of Erin Andrews stalking. Keep up the good fight!
And then, a guy (I assume it’s a guy, or perhaps a three-toed sloth who lives off Monster Energy Drink, ramen noodles and goodnight kisses from Mommy) who goes by Lukepiewalker121 emailed us with this quip of superior baseball knowledge:
“Ha, say what you want about the Yankees choking in past years. We live
in the present not the past. Go cry your butt off when they win the
World Series and A-Rod wins MVP of World Series now that he doesn’t
have all the pressure with Teixeira with him . . . . . loser live in
the present not the past!”
Now, now, Lukepiewalker121@aim.com, let’s not be so vicious in our ill thought retorts, shall we? First of all, who the hell uses AIM anymore? This ain’t 2003, buddy! Join the living! Stop — as you say — LIVING IN THE PAST! Once you take your own advice and stop living in the past, I assume you and and your Yankee-lovin’ brethren will kindly stop reminding me and everyone else who has any aural abilities whatsoever that your beloved Bombers are the “winningest team in sports history” because, well, y’see, those 26 trophies are all in the past, pal. Them days is over. Move on. Indeed, Lukepiewalker121, we live in the Yankees-Tend-To-Overpay-Free-Agents-and-Blow-It-In-the-Playoffs-Era; and just in case you haven’t noticed, the Yanks have been doing plenty of playoff choking in recent years, which is why my colleague made the brash statement that he did in the first place.
And know that I don’t always (or ever) agree with Mr. Krause, but in this case, he makes a valid (albeit sloppy) point. If the Yanks follow their recent history, they’re due to disappoint.
So, my dear Yankee fan readers, I will bare the olive branch with this bit of truce:
If the Yankees do win the World Series, I will take Lukepiewalker121’s advice and “cry my butt off”.
Hate me ‘cuz I unravel the reasoning behind the phrase Evil Empire, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right… if ya don’t believe me, ask cubluvr1995, the last childish, ranting, wrathful dear reader to bite the proverbial RSBS dust.
Albert Pujols has played just nine Major League seasons and in each and every one of them he’s hit over 30 homeruns, collected more than 100 RBI and batted over .300. Those aren’t just good numbers, folks. Those are astronomical numbers.
And this is his best year yet.
I think it’s time we stop referring to Albert Pujols as the future Hall of Famer that he is — because let’s face it, if the man’s career ends today he’ll be a first ballot lock* — and start acknowledging that he is indeed one of the greatest players to ever play the game, all-time, in the history of the game.
In our present game, today, right this second, we are witnessing a rare and genuine paragon of baseball supremacy.
Stop — and — think — about — that.
My Dad saw Gibson.
My Grandpa saw Musial.
And Albert will trump them both.
By a long shot.
I know it’s hard to understand while it’s happening. I realize that, in most cases, we do not realize what great feats we are witnessing firsthand until it’s too late, until our heroes are lifted in the 7th for defensive replacements, until they’re embarking on sappy, over-produced farewell tours.
But right now we all have the opportunity to savor the greatness, to take it all in, to let it move us.
Great presidents abound in Franklin D. Roosevelt and George Washington; but there is only one Abraham Lincoln.
Sure, Metallica is great and all but there’s only one Pink Floyd.
And yes. There is only one Albert Pujols.
Don’t hate me. ‘Cuz I’m right.
*As one reader pointed out, a player needs 10 years in the Majors before being eligible; consider my phrase a simple bout of hyperbole
If you were kidnapped and held at gunpoint and the kidnapper said, “You must root for the Yankees or we’ll keep you in this cave forever without food or water or women,” what would you do?
Confessions of a She-Fan
Santa Barbara, CA
Interesting question, Jane. On an existential level, of course I’d rather die quickly in said cave. I detest the Yankees and everything they stand for and to cheer for them would be a repudiation of myself. However, on a pragmatic level, if simply rooting for the Yankees were to allow me to continue living, I’d probably do it. If you’re willing to die for an ideal, it had better be a pretty amazing ideal.
I understand fanaticism. But, there is a reason we call a team’s supporters “fans” instead of “fanatics.” Fanatic has a negative connotation to it. A fanatic is a guy who records Erin Andrews as she’s undressing in the privacy of her hotel room. A fanatic is willing to blow his or herself up for the glory of god, brahma, allah, yaweh or whoever else. A fan, while often just as insane in the sporting arena, usually tries to find a way to moderate those demons in other areas of their life.
And for me, although it would really suck to ever turn my back on the Tigers, if someone had a gun to my head and said “either you cheer for the Yankees or you’re a dead man,” living means more to me than fandom. In this case, it’s pretty clear which of us is the fan and which the fanatic.
Here’s the thing, I know Jeff is going to call me out on saying all of this but when it comes down to it, it’s the same for him. If his choices are rooting for the Cubs and being able to live or refusing and dying for that ideal, he’s going to say the same thing. Maybe not in this forum but in the real life situation, that’s the choice he would make. Because he hates the Cubs but he loves living more.
Ultimately, the difference between a fan and a fanatic is that a fan can still make rational decisions. Giving up rationality and being willing to sacrifice one’s life for the sake of one’s fandom is not noble. It’s stupid.
There are ideals worth dying for. That’s the reason that we have such strong and committed Armed Forces and why Parick Henry could unironically exclaim “Give me liberty or give me death.” Baseball, though? It’s a wonderful game but at the end of the day it’s just that. A game.
In baseball, the very best players fail seven times out of ten. With defeat as the understood underwriter of the game, we as fans tend to not flip every time a batter makes himself an out. Instead, we get over it, move on, and wait for the next opportunity.
The tentacled world of international diplomacy, however, does not feature such a luxurious background. So when it was announced that former president Bill Clinton was to head the rescue mission of two American journalists imprisoned in the mysteriously wacky, pro-proletariat North Korea, I breathed an ecstatic sigh of relief.
Because if anyone can woo the pants off a frail, old, tyrant dictator who fancies Don King hair and Elvis sunglasses, Bill Clinton certainly can.
And like Albert Pujols at the dish with 2 outs, bases loaded and the entire game, season, legacy on the line, Slick Willy delivered.
Of course, while he was there, he did do Al and I a favor by getting Kim’s personal thoughts on Red State Blue State, which Kim supposedly reveres despite his having to ban it in North Korea due to its “flamboyant content” and “excessive skin service“:
Yep. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right. That’s all I ask.
(*Images courtesy of the Associated Press)
Well, let’s see, I did Testosterone Propionate, Methyltestosterone, Clomid, Laurabolin, Nolvadex, HGH, Masteril, Agoviron, Ambosex, Chorvlon, L-Thyroxine, Clomid, Euthyrox, Neo-Hombreol, Maxiolin Elixier and a little bit of Testo-Enant and then I watched David Ortiz go yard against the Oakland Athletics.
Athletics? Please. If it ain’t full of Riboxifen it ain’t no athlete.
But who cares anyway? I’m sick of talking about this and I imagine dear readers are too so let’s talk about something a bit more titillating, shall we?
It is no secret that the merits of baseball relevant beauties have long been a popular subject at RSBS. From Erin Andrews to Gong Li (somehow related, trust us) to Kendra Andrews, we and our loyal interns always go for broke. That is why we are happy to announce that the crew at Fantasy Baseball Dugout has launched its 2009 edition of the Hottest Baseball Wives contest.
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(*Images courtesy of Fantasy Baseball Dugout)
I am not so full of myself that I believe everyone wanted
a piece of me during yesterday’s All-Star festivities; but wearing
throwback gear from a team long dead certainly gave me an edge. As a
walking memory, representing Gary Carter, Andre Dawson and Delino
Deshields with porn ‘stache swagger, I was definitely drawing
attention. Unfortunately, the security people holding me back at field
level, blocking my attempts at getting a word with Erin Andrews did not
find me as irresistible.
“I need to talk to Erin Andrews.” I told them with confidence.
“Because, it’s my destiny.”
“Get the hell outta here before I throw you the hell outta here.”
well. Had to keep my head up. I was part of the Homerun Derby. Busch
III was electric. And despite all the partying, I was somehow still
The Derby? Well, it was what I thought it’d be: very
exciting for the first half hour, then pretty boring after that.
Several balls came close to us in our right field seats, but one guy —
the SAME GUY — caught two balls (one from Ryan Howard and one from Joe
Mauer) and after standing for the three hour event and being
shot down by Erin’s handlers before I even had a chance, I ended up
leaving Busch III ball-less… well, sorta. Anyway, here are some pics
from Fanfest and the evening’s homerun contest. Click on them for
Okay, y’all. I’m gearing
up for the big game tonight, Molina jersey on my back, praying the that
the National League doesn’t embarrass me… again. This would be as good
a time as any for us to win this thing (not that I really care) and I
have a feeling I’ll have a better shot at meeting President Obama than
I will Ms. Andrews.
She doesn’t know what she’s missing.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m here, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.