Tagged: My Team(s)

Anaheim Albert ang I Are Juss Having Fung, Mang

The Twittersphere is a strange place.  It can be as welcoming as it is alienating, as terrifying as it is hilarious.  But just like anything else on the interwebs, it is what you make of it.

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:

Compares himself to others:

And provides sultry details to his odd albeit professional relationship with his agent Dan Lozano:

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.

Peace,

Jeff

Worst. Day. EVER.

The next time you’re late for work, spill coffee on your khakis and then get rejected by the hot gal at your local bakery, just remember: life could always be worse.

You could be a delusional sexist homophobe.  Or, you could be A.J. Burnett.

Equally terrifying, I know.

But it just doesn’t get much worse than A.J.’s lackluster performance from Wednesday night.  In fact, in the entire history of Major League Baseball, it was the single worst start by a pitcher since 1929 as Burnett was lit up by the Cardinals for 12 hits and 12 earned runs in just 2 2/3 innings.

Apparently the tanning bed has made Clint Hurdle officially “stupid”.

But today is Friday, folks, and I don’t wanna release you for the weekend all depressed, so when that worst day ever does choose you as its next victim, make sure you watch the below video to remind you of the BEST. DAY. EVER!!!!

Happy Friday!

Jeff

End of the Road (B-Inge Remix)

We’ve all had those kind of relationships where we really like the person, we’re really comfortable with them and we have so many memories of the good times together that it’s nearly impossible to say goodbye.  It’s not that you no longer like them, it’s just that it’s not there anymore.  Well, that’s kind of what happened last week between the Tigers and Brandon Inge.

We’ve known that something was off with the relationship the last couple years.  It just didn’t feel as fresh and fulfilling as it used to.  Sure, we convinced ourselves that the old magic was still there, hiding someplace.  And every once in awhile that spark would rekindle something and we’d see flashes of what used to be there.  It’s like that magical vacation you take to try and find what used to be there and for a week or so, you rediscover it briefly.  But, just like in real life, things soon return to normal and you slowly begin to accept what has to happen.

The thing is, it’s hard to leave a relationship like that, especially when you’ve had so many truly terrible relationships previously.  Dontrelle Willis?  Mike Maroth?  Those two were like the alcoholic chick you picked up at the bar who decided to leave a toothbrush behind the first night and then just refused to leave.  But Inge?  He was more than a relationship.  Even your parents liked him.  He played multiple roles and he always seemed to step up and do what was asked of him.  He was a metaphor for everything that had happened over the previous five seasons.

But whether the relationship is certifiably insane or has just run its course, the end result is the same.  You gotta get out.  I’m not saying that makes it any easier.  Even though I know dropping Inge was the right choice, it’s not like I can just forget him.  I’ll probably still check his facebook and occasionally look at the photos we took together.  Luckily, it’s not like we’re left all alone.  There’s a new crush who has caught my eye and he’s a real Prince.

-A

Stop It, Chicago Cubs, Just Stop It

*Dear readers, pardon me while I step away from being an unbiased observer and put on my wrathful fanboy hat*

Stop it, Chicago Cubs.  Just stop it.

You are a 6-win team thus far, and while yes, your last two wins (unfortunately, against my World Champion St. Louis Cardinals) were full of drama, let us not forget: you suck.

But you wouldn’t know that watching your celebrations the last two nights.  Unbridled bedlam.  Unwarranted one-upsmanship.  Beating your chests then dogpiling like you won the goddamned World Series?

Please.  You were the beneficiary of TWO blown calls.  Also, you are a terrible team.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t celebrate a walk-off victory, because it is only natural to do so.  But there is celebration and then there is what you’ve done two days in a row: act like blithering fools.

Consider a touch of class, or at least a nod to the baseball gods umpires who handed you a victory on Tuesday night.

Hate me ‘cuz I speak it straight, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

The Filibuster

It looks like Albert is off to a rough start in LA.  Have you caught yourself checking in on him yet?

Ian
Paris, TX
___________________________________

If by “checking in on him” you mean stalking his Facebook page, dialing his phone number then hanging up real quick and annoyingly asking our mutual friends if he’s really happy with his new lover, then no.  I haven’t done any of that.

But I have watched an unhealthy amount of Angels games early this season (BECAUSE I CAN’T HELP MYSELF) and I have to admit: even watching Albert struggle early on is no consolation for his loss.  There is no consolation.  Period.  None.  So it does me no good to dwell on it anymore.

IT’S OVER.  FOREVER.

And that’s okay.

It is no secret that Albert’s decision to leave the St. Louis Cardinals left me DEVASTATED.  I was in deep mourning for most of January.  As February rolled along, I found myself dealing with the five stages of grief more intimately than I ever wanted. But by the end of March, I’d finally reached the road of acceptance.  I had no power to change anything anyway, so I could choose to be miserable or I could choose to move on.

I chose to move on.

Albert Pujols provided me with some of the greatest memories of my entire life.  It is my decision to hold those memories dear, to never let go, but to also accept the change that is reality and be one with it.  Harboring any ill will towards the man who brought me such joy has zero benefits.  Just like I wish myriad ex-girlfriends the best in their individual lives post-Jeff, I also wish Albert the best.  That being said, when he strikes out or grounds into a double-play, I become human at times and secretly engage in a bit of childish taunting.  But this is not done with a hateful or angry tone.  I am mindful of it. I acknowledge its silliness. I immediately let it go.

AP may not be off to a torrid start when it comes to power numbers, but the homers and RBIs are going to come.  And when they do, I’ll tip my cap just as I would anyone else: while hollerin’ “GO CARDINALS!!!”

Hate me.  I’m cool with it.  Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

One Day to Unite Them All!

It’s Opening Day, y’all!!!  HOLLLLLLLLAAAAAA!!!

When it comes to my favorite holidays there is, of course, April Fool’s Day, National Cleavage Day and My Bent and Oft Hoodwinked Colleague Gets PWNED by a Commenter Day.

But nothing — I repeat: NO-THING beats Opening Day.

To celebrate, I give you DRUNK Rick Sutcliffe:

Now, if we could just get a Play Tennis In Your Underwear Day.

Happy Opening Day and Let’s Go Cards!

Jeff

The Tricks They Play!

What does a World Champion do to his World Champion pal on April Fool’s Day?

Berkman plays truck prank on Wainwright

By Jenifer Langosch / MLB.com

JUPITER, Fla. — Lance Berkman and several Cardinals teammates helped pull off a terrific April Fools’ joke on Adam Wainwright during Sunday’s game.

The pranksters had the public address announcer give away a car to a fan, who, playing along with the gag, ran onto the field to collect his gift. Berkman drove the vehicle — Wainwright’s white Chevy Silverado — onto the field and past an unsuspecting Wainwright, who did a double-take at the license plate while sitting in the dugout.

The winning fan, who was David Freese’s cousin, jumped into the back of the truck and Berkman drove out of the stadium.

FANTASTIC!

I love being witness to the shenanigans baseballers indulge in.  And I ain’t talkin’ about chicken, beer and video game shenanigans.

I’m talkin’ about bubble gum caps, the infamous “hot foot”, and my personal favorite, the post home run silent treatment.  In my opinion, Alex Rodriguez is the best at dishing this one out to unsuspecting rookies.  Every time I see it happen I literally L-O-L.

Another hilarious prank that takes place almost every single day of the season is what happens (or doesn’t happen) at Wrigley Field from April to September, though that’s another post for another day.

Hate me.  It’s all good.  Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff