And now, 1,597 posts.
Red State Blue State was born out of the fiery email exchanges between Messieurs Krause and Lung during the 2006 World Series — a World Series that saw Jeff’s Redbirds trounce Allen’s Tigers (although until his dying breath Mr. Krause will blame the pitching fielding errors over an inept offense for Detroit’s shortcoming — one that would not be their last, obviously).
Over the last five years, we have enjoyed all of the benefits of writing a hit MLBlog. Jeff got to interview Ken Griffey, Sr., Dave Winfield and his boyhood idol, Ozzie Smith. He also went to the 2009 All Star Game and reported on that experience. Hell, last year he even went to the World Series! — twice — and then popped champagne as his boys brought it all home. Allen, well, he drew particular pride from the fact that RSBS ended up getting banned by the censors in Saudi Arabia.
But it wasn’t just about the sports. Although RSBS started life as a baseball blog, the second and equally important pillar, was a shared enjoyment of the drama and often maddening inconsistencies with the American political system. We found a way to combine sports and politics with literary bindings, and from that we engaged in quite a few intellectual debates that strung our worlds together. The highlight of Jeff’s political revelations had to be his Libertarian coming out party — the one that Mr. Krause so dutifully lampooned.
For Allen, the Post-Partisan Playoff Preview presented an opportunity to truly combine postseason baseball and postseason politics into an orgy of prognostication. Sure, the only time he may have truly gotten it right was in 2008’s initial edition but he still made a valiant effort in the close but not quite there predictions of 2011 and 2010. Allen’s political evolution may have been less dramatic than Jeff’s as he stayed continuously true to his blue state roots but this led to a moment he’ll never forget, being there for the inauguration of Barack Obama.
However, probably our finest RSBS achievements have to do with a little ditty by David Archuletta and the underground hip-hop sensation, Jesus Hates the Cubs.
Today is a day different from all the rest. Today we publish our last post. It is not without sadness that we do this, but, like many others experience in life, the time has come for us to move on.
If you would like to follow Allen’s post-RSBS exploits, visit him at his new blog, The Nomadic Revue, where he will continue to provide political commentary as well as entertainment and restaurant reviews.
And if you would like to follow Jeff’s sensational running career (and all the creative introspection born from that), then check out The Run Factory.
More than anything, we want to thank YOU, dear reader. Thank you for joining us on our journey. Thank you for all your comments, all your emails, all your Twitter love.
Thank you all very, very much.
Jeff and Allen
2. Jeffrey Dahmer
Sorry, that’s all I could come up with.
Big Z is nothing but a Big Dick. I feel for my Cub fan friends right now. I really do.
He is — and ALWAYS HAS BEEN — a dark stain on the game, on his team, on my city.
So I hope he never comes back.
Jesus and I may not love the uni he’s been donning the last few years; but heck, it’d be pretty sacrilegious to hate on a man who has provided the masses with unfettered improvisational entertainment throughout his entire career.
So Al, I and the RSBS interns would all like to wish Lou Piniella the very best in his retirement while reminiscing on those things we’ll miss the most about him:
His Preggers Belly
You know the drill. Lou shows up to Arizona in the Spring in excellent shape, nary a roll on his tummy. A few hapless months of frustrating baseball and countless cold ones later and he magically looks like he oughta be resting for the end of his third trimester. Some managers utilize the brim of their caps to intimidate umpires during a raucous; Lou bumps bellies.
His Indomitable Will
Whether it’s dealing with Sori’s hop, Rob Dibble’s grappling moves or Zambrano’s homicidal tendencies, Lou Piniella never seems to show a weak link. He can fight. He will fight. He will fight you… if you give him a reason. And the chance. That is the epitome of bad@$$ and that’s why I would love to take Lou out drinking sometime.
His Love for the Bottle
Realize that I realize that I am taking certain liberties in proclaiming that Lou has a love for booze. I mean, he’s a man. He’s also a ballplayer. And he’s often seen in the clubhouse with a drink in his hand. So that makes him like 90% of the people I know on earth (me included) which makes me like him even more. It almost makes me want to bar hop the Tampa Bay metro area until I eventually run into him. I can’t promise I’ll be able to form coherent sentences at that point, but I would sure try.
Be good, Lou. Be good.
And come back if ya want. Baseball without you just won’t be the same.
Hate me ‘cuz I hate on your sCrUBBIES, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I’m a huge baseball fan and I love your blog but sometimes I worry about
all the blasphemy. Any chance you guys could tone that down a little?
More baseball, less blasphemy.
We don’t know no stinking blasphemy!
The following are all FACTS that our loyal interns have researched thoroughly. If you do not regard them as FACTS then that is your problem and not ours because they’ve been teaching this stuff for a couple thousand years and I don’t know about you, but anything that has been taught for a couple thousand years MUST be FACT…
Jesus Only Likes Certain Baseball Players
You will know which players he likes by the individual player’s performance. Jesus will help guys get homeruns but for those whom he detests (Mark Reynolds comes to mind) he will cause problems by making him strikeout with runners in scoring position. If this is too confusing, then think of it this way: Jesus loves Josh Hamilton, hates Aramis Ramirez. Loves Albert Pujols, hates Raul Ibanez. Loves Stephen Strasburg, hates Kenshin Kawakami.
Jesus May Be Johnny Damon
The bloodwork still needs to be finalized — the midichlorians counted over again — but we’re pretty sure that Johnny Damon still holds the key as the physically reformed Jesus on earth. He helped the Red Sox win the 2004 World Series; if that isn’t proof that Jesus is really the son of god and stuff then I don’t know what else to say to convince you. If you don’t believe, then you probably don’t believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny either… both unforgivable offenses.
The Face on this Baseball Belongs to Jesus
Don’t believe me? Well, then prove that it’s NOT Jesus’ face! Yeah, hahahaha, sucker!!! I knew you couldn’t do it. Now what? That’s Jesus’ face, dude. For serious…
Now if Jesus wasn’t real, if god didn’t want to show me miracles in my life, then how in the hell would these Jesus bats end up in my car all of the sudden? Huh?!? Well??? Exactly. Jesus put them there… ‘cuz Jesus loves me… and…
Jesus Hates the Cubs
Some things just never get old…
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
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Not content with being just the son of god or co-author of the best-selling book in history, Jesus has been on a rampage as of late. Whether showing up in professional athletes’ thank yous or inspiring American presidents into wasteful wars thousands of miles away from American shores, JC has moved up in the world from simple carpenter to internationally recognized architect.
In honor of Jesus’ (pronounced a la espagnol) spate of success, it only seemed fair that we honor him like we have honored other life changers. But how do you go about honoring a man with such an impressive resume? The hits are so well-known that repeating them just seems, well, repetitive.
So, we came up with another measure. Every best selling artist has a set of secondary works that, although impressive in their own right, never make quite the same splash as the ones set on repeat. However, maybe it’s time they get a little airplay of their own. To that end, RSBS would like to present Jesus’ greatest B-sides.
We’ve all heard the story about how Jesus gave someone the confidence or the extra push they needed to make it through something difficult. But what about the guy who wasn’t able to get that second wind and ended up flat on his face 2 miles short of the marathon finish line? Was it because Jesus tripped him? Turns out that Jesus really is always there and often responsible for the failures. In fact, we now have proof (although it is only available via an artist’s rendering of the occasion).
Just the Two of Us
There’s nothing wrong with having an imaginary friend. I had one named Paul when I was growing up. Sometimes that imaginary friend can be a big d!ck, though:
Jesus Hates the Cubs
No list would be complete without the modern day favorite and RSBS production, Jesus Hates the Cubs. And it’s extra funny because it’s true:
So, there you have it, a contemporary hit list of JC’s lesser known smashes. Keep ’em coming, big guy. You must have another Crusade in you at least.
When I quit smoking, I took up the habit of chewing on toothpicks — to keep my orally stimulated addiction in check. The worst part about it? People often say: “Hey, Jeff, fiddlin’ with ‘dem toothpicks… you remind me of Dusty Baker.”
Being compared to Baker may make my skin curdle with infectious disgust, but I suppose that’s still better than blackening my lungs and dying young of emphysema.
Or is it?
Dear readers, believe me, I do respect Dusty Baker as a human being. I mean, look at him, he breathes on his own, his heart pumps without having to think about it… all very impressive indeed; but as a baseball connoisseur, there’s no way in Jesus-hates-the-Cubs-Hell I want him managing my baseball team. Often blamed for the mass destruction of young, promising arms with infinite potential (see Mark Prior, Kerry Wood, Homer Bailey), Dusty Baker also lacks the one thing that makes good managers great and great managers Tony LaRussa… and that thing is: common sense.
In the 7th inning of last evening’s contest between the Cardinals and Reds, a game that at that point was still wide open, Dusty Baker brought in his nearly-virginal relief pitcher, young righty Logan Ondrusek, to face Brendan Ryan. With Albert Pujols on deck, Ondrusek quickly walked Ryan, unable to find the strike zone like Mr. Krause is unable to find a meaningful relationship with a woman (though, to his credit, he does surprisingly well with primates). Instead of yanking Ondrusek like he probably should have, Dusty left the kid — in only his second Major League appearance — in the game to face one of the greatest hitters of all time.
Albert rocked him.
So did Matt Holliday.
Welcome to the Big Leagues, kid! If your arm didn’t hurt before you became a Redleg, believe me when I say you won’t even be able to shake hands after Dusty’s done with ya!
Hate me ‘cuz I put it out there, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.