Fort Worth, TX
“Any intelligent fool can make things bigger and more complex. It takes a touch of genius, and a lot of courage, to move in the opposite direction.”
Albert Einstein said that. Jon Daniels DID that.
He and the Rangers made their qualifying offer to Sir Parties-a-Lot and now they can sit back and let madness ensue knowing they’ll at least get a nice draft pick if and when some insane club with house money decides to give Josh Hamilton what he wants. (From what I have been reading on Twitter and some other baseball-centric forums, dude is asking for 7 years, $175 million.)
Right? WTF Josh Hamilton? SEVEN YEARS? ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY FIVE MILLION UNITED STATES DOLLARS?!?
If this doesn’t prove Nietzsche’s god is dead lesson, I don’t know what does. Look, I’m impressed with the healthy Josh Hamilton just as much as any one else, but the problems with handing Hamilton a multi-year $100 million+ contract are as well known and documented as Hamilton is out of touch with reality.
1) Dude is a china doll. Can’t stay healthy.
2) Dude is (and always will be) an addict.
3) Dude is also a well documented RELAPSE just waiting to happen.
One minute Josh is manning left field, hitting bombs, the next minute he’s doing t***y shots off your college aged daughter, making it rain with whipped cream and pay-puh. Don’t believe me? Do some Google image searching.
Too risky. Way. Too. Risky. I wouldn’t give him anything over three years. Period. I’d pay him what he’s worth — close to the $20 million a year threshold if healthy (and sober). But no way I’d trust him for anything more than three years. His record speaks for itself.
And while I’m all for giving folks second, third, fourth chances, I’m also smart enough to know when to say when. Hamilton (and his enablers) seem to have a problem with that.
The good news, for sanity’s sake, is that most of the big pocketed clubs don’t have any room for Hamilton. I hear the Braves are interested but don’t want to be too left handed. And the breakout Orioles are in the mix too. But don’t expect L.A. or New York or Boston to go there. I’m not sure the night life in those cities could handle a potential Hamilton disaster either, and that’s really saying something.
So go ahead. Hate me ‘cuz I’m hatin’ on Hamilton’s free agency, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
In 1991 the Minnesota Twins won the World Series in 7 games. In the final game of the Series, a single in the 10th was the hit that won it. Seven months earlier, 52 hits rained down on Rodney King and led to the LA riots in 1992.
I don’t think anyone would say that Rodney King was a good guy. The 1991 beating was the result of a DUI stop following a high-speed chase. But I also don’t think anyone would say he deserved to get his ass handed to him by a bunch of racist LA cops. With the videotaped beating and the subsequent trial of the officers, King became a cultural touchstone. The LA riots only added to the legend and King’s plea, “Can we all get along?” became part of our national vernacular.
20 years later, King has left the building. It’s odd to think about how someone who really only had a bit part to play in history ended up becoming so important to the recent history of the United States. I’m pretty sure just about anyone alive at that time remembers the beating, the trial of the officers and the ensuing riots. But how many people remember Jack Morris’ 10-inning shutout that clinched the Series for the Twins and clinched him the Series MVP trophy? King may not have been a hero. He may not have even been that good of a person. But his story still redefined a moment in American history.
Over the years, I have fawned over several accounts in order to make SUPER-HAPPY-FUN TIME. Coco Crisp’s was golden. Barry Zito’s was embarrassing (before he blocked me from talking to him). And I’ve probably cried more laughing at the hilarity of Fake Ned Yost than I have all the times I’ve watched Braveheart combined (stop judging me).
But these days there’s a new mang in town (somewhere along I-5 between Los Anaheim and Orange Angeles County).
BEHOLD: ANAHEIM ALBERT!
He waxes on performance:
Hey Angel fangs, I have a friend who mightwant to know how to cork a bat. Is for a friend. You guys dont know him. Let me know…Is not me
— A. Pujols (@AnaheimAlbert) May 1, 2012
Dee dee call last night ang said AJ beng going round school telling kids that his dad is Matt Carpenter. Who the hell is Matt Carpenter?
— A. Pujols (@AnaheimAlbert) May 4, 2012
Dee Dee says the Sang Luis Dick’s Sports selling my Cards shirts for $1.99She thinks they making fun of my batting average.199? I wish!
— A. Pujols (@AnaheimAlbert) May 9, 2012
Compares himself to others:
You stupid Cards fangs cant compare me ang Carlos Beltran.He gets to bat right handed ANG left handed.
— A. Pujols (@AnaheimAlbert) May 9, 2012
Today, God was like “Hey Albert, Ing ready for you to hit a home rung…but first, I want you to look stupid striking out”. And so it was.
— A. Pujols (@AnaheimAlbert) May 7, 2012
Just heard about Josh Hamilton….Someonge should tell him dat nobody likes a show off.
— A. Pujols (@AnaheimAlbert) May 9, 2012
And provides sultry details to his odd albeit professional relationship with his agent Dan Lozano:
Back at Dan Lozano’s house. Blood, trash, Broken bottles. Dan sleeping. Two girls passed out ong couch. Starting to think Dan skipped church
— A. Pujols (@AnaheimAlbert) April 30, 2012
Lozano was sleeping on da driveway wheng I left da house today.
— A. Pujols (@AnaheimAlbert) May 6, 2012
Dan Lozano ang the house keeper throwing a Cinco party today. Donkeys, chickens, gunshots. Take me back to the Scott Spezio days. Crazy shit
— A. Pujols (@AnaheimAlbert) May 6, 2012
Extra mad points for that Scott Spiezio reference. He’s another man whose heroics are shared by both Halos fans and Redbird Nation.
Speaking of Spiezio, where’s my scotch… and the strippers??? ALBERT!!!!
Hate me ‘cuz I made you L-O-L, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
It used to be that when people heard the word “Brooklyn,” they thought of the Dodgers and Jackie Robinson. The Bronx has the Yankees and all their history but there was something magical about the Brooklyn Dodgers. However, when Walter O’Malley uprooted and replanted the team about as far away from Brooklyn as you could probably get, it left a vacuum in the borough that had to be filled by something. Unfortunately, that void has been filled by something even more nefarious than the Mets or Yankees. Brooklyn has now become synonymous with “hipster.”
I’d like to see Brooklyn reclaim its past glory. This is the land of Robinson and Koufax but now it has become more associated with this:
No matter how you feel about New York and its boroughs, as a baseball fan that has to make you angry.
So I’m proposing that Jay-Z bring the Dodgers back to Brooklyn. He has already been working on getting the Nets out there so why not the Dodgers as well? Sure, I realize that it will mess up the divisions just as some sense of order has finally been restored. And combining a Brooklyn team with the Mets in Queens and the Yankees in the Bronx would make ESPN just that much more NYC/East Coast focused. But it’s not like LA has done much for the Dodgers.
So, how about it Mr. Z? Will you save Brooklyn (and all of us) from the hipster-pocalypse?
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THE FILIBUSTER settles back into the Sunday slot at RSBS in one week! No matter what the query, send it to RSBSBlog@gmail.com and we’ll let you know what we think.
All-around baseball good guy Joe Torre is stepping down from his MLB front office position to pursue his interest in purchasing the Los Angeles Dodgers. While this is bad news (I think) for those of us who hoped he might take over for King Bud once the reign of terror is over at the end of the year, I have to think that a group headed by Torre is probably a great way to save this storied franchise.
Of course, there are alternatives. And yep, you guessed it. The RSBS interns are ready to report:
1. Go back in time, don’t trade Kevin Brown and instead have him break Frank McCourt’s hand so it won’t wander onto a woman who isn’t his wife.
2. Stop making it mandatory that Alyssa Milano wear clothes to the ballpark. (Holy Jackie Robinson, I’ve been in love with Alyssa for 20 years now; she just gets better looking!!!)
4. Get a mascot! I know just the one!
How about signing Prince Fielder? Seriously. Make him some crazy offer like $30 million a year for 6 years or something. Wouldn’t that make the Dodgers a nice, EXPENSIVE and attractive purchase? And besides, it’s L.A. Just use somebody else’s money.
Hate me. FINE. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
8. Subjected Myself to Amy Grant’s Greatest Hits
7. More Beer
5. NBA Network
4. Dissected a Battery, Smoked What I Found, Had a Conversation with a Fern
3. Murder (Not Telling… HINT: Involved a Smurf)
1. This Video… Over and Over and Over Again…
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
“I’ll be running nice and easy, just taking my time, not hustling. I apologize to the Cubs fans.”
— Carlos Zambrano, on how he’ll play upon his return from the disabled list
(Chicago Tribune Article)
The good news is Carlos Zambrano doesn’t have to take the fall for this mope wreck of a statement. The chain of command comes from up high and the Chicago Cubs suits are proving that not only do they not know how to win when it matters, but they also don’t know how to manage the public image of their players.
So, the really bad news is that baseball has openly lowered its standards. You don’t have to hustle anymore, folks — especially if you’re a ticking time-bomb with a slingshot arm and a once-sore hammy that has now fully healed, leaving no pain.
Indeed, Cy Young is rolling in his grave.
Okay, so I gotta ask: If Zambrano feels no pain then why won’t he be hustling on the field?
In the wake of steroids, with pandemic doubt blanketing the game from New York to Los Angeles to Los Angeles of Anaheim, the last thing we (and especially Cubs) fans need is to know that some players aren’t giving it their all and that management is okay with that. If you’re not healthy enough to play the game the way the game is supposed to be played, then you shouldn’t be playing the game… I don’t care how talented you are.
Note to Cubs: either sew Zambrano’s mouth shut or hire a new P.R. person. I got just the guy for you too — even colored his hair to match your duds:
In just a short while, we US Americans will begin that hallowed tradition of spending quality time with family by gorging ourselves on a bounty of food, drinking excessive amounts of Johnnie Walker Black and falling asleep on the couch only to wake up with unidentifiable aches and pains in places never before felt.
Well, maybe that’s just me.
In any case, given the copious amounts of bull**** recently posted by my colleague, Mr. Krause, whose intellectual ineptitude forces him to fall into that age-old Blue State trap of logorrhea where valid questions are only answered with an arsenal of equally unrelated questions, I have found solace in you, Dear Readers, and your ability to see that — as usual — I am right.
In fact, since this time of year is all about giving thanks, I am going to rightfully refrain from causing any further damage to Mr. Krause’s ego by letting him be (just for today) and instead would like to take a moment to give my most wholehearted thanks.
Indeed, there are many things to be thankful for today. I’m thankful that the Cubs have gone 100 years without a World Series title. I am thankful that the Cardinals are actually considering filling some left-handed reliever roles (even if it is by courting a couple of scrubs). I am thankful that I live in the Second City — that we have two firery baseball icons who are willing to make fools of themselves by performing a ridiculous rap song for the good of Chevrolet; and I am thankful that senior citizens ride the CTA free, fat senior citizens ride two for the price of one, which is also free. I’m also thankful that Dubya is on his way out, that an Iowan turkey (ironically not Chuck Grassley this time) will be able to live a long, eaten-free life and that Minnesota has replaced Florida (for now) as the state where your vote might not really count.
But most of all, I am thankful for you, Dear Readers. For it is you that truly makes RSBS the special little happy place where baseball-politico egos, arguments and aspirations go to make sweet, sweet love. And for that, Mr. Krause and I couldn’t be more grateful.
We have given our staff the rest of the week off. Allen has left for that cavernous pit of despair otherwise known as Los Angeles (or Where Souls Go to Die) while I will be spending the rest of the week reflecting on my podunk roots with my quaint family in Springfield, IL — once home to Abraham Lincoln, Barack Obama and of course, Me.
Happy Thanksgiving to all and don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.