The NBA Draft was held Thursday night, and in contrast to years previous, this one seemed to be less about an influx of young players and more about the Shaq sextape sized elephant in the room. Because by now, I think we all know that a lockout is coming, the next season might never be, and hearts will definitely be broken.
And the sadness doesn’t stop there. Think about the players who will suddenly be without work, with no pay. Will they be forced to drive Kias instead of Bentleys? Forced to drink Red Label instead of Blue? Have sex with their wives rather than the band of groupies hanging outside the team bus?
If you think professional basketball players will be able to just find work elsewhere, like the rest of us Joe Six-Packs would be forced to do, you might want to rethink the way the world works. Here, let Washington Wizards point guard, John Wall, prove my point:
The truth is, ya get these guys off the court and… well, things can get ugly.
Here’s hoping the NBA learns some valuable lessons from its MLB brethren, before it’s too late.
Jeff!!! I loved your pictures from Nats park and I’m psyched that you
got to see Strasburg. I also saw that you’ve been to Sox park and
Wrigley recently. What’s your favorite ballpark that you’ve already
visited and which place would you like to see the most?
After a fiery, bloody internal debate that lasted well over an hour, I finally decided not to begin addressing this query by postulating what one would find if he/she were to actually venture to Manassas, VA… ‘cuz I’m pretty sure one can find Man-assas (a$$e$?) anywhere… including ballparks all across US America.
Still got it, folks.
Okay, maybe not.
But it doesn’t matter… and neither does the ballpark, Caitlin. What matters is the game. Sure Busch hosts my boys, Wrigley’s nostalgic, Nats Park has Ben’s Chili Bowl and Sox Park is a good place to pick up Latin Queens; but to be honest, I can find something positive about any and every ballpark I ever go to. And I’ve been to many.
My favorite random ballpark story is the one about the Oakland Coliseum. I happened to be in San Francisco on business. It was a Saturday night and I had nothing to do, so I hopped on the BART to Oakland, walked up to the ticket counter at the Coliseum and said, “I got forty bucks. Where can I sit for that?”
“In a good seat, Honey.” said the kind ticket lady.
Ten minutes later I’m sitting behind homeplate on the first tier above ground level and I can hear Nick Swisher’s awful jokes with my own ears. Ten minutes after that and I have a Fat Tire in my hand (at the ballpark!) and a few hours after that I was sufficiently drunk off the seductive elixir of the game itself.
And that can happen anywhere.
Though there is one place in particular that I just gotta go to, before it goes back to just hosting football games:
(Chewbacca image via 9GAG)
And so in this Podcast…
Dear readers galore FINALLY get to meet THE one, the ONLY, Mr. Allen Krause as he joins Jeff and Johanna to discuss all things urgent, all things necessary. And it’s all made possible by science. And hard work. And Skype. Judge for yourself. Among the titillating
topics of discussion: Strasburg as Jesus, the difference between anathema and an enema (it’s important), starting a Pete Rose for US WBC Team Player/Manager petition on Facebook, Gallaraga’s thingy, the Lou Piniella Mailbag and much,
to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and
all-around sound guru. His Undercast
podcast is the bomb shizzy, by the way. It’s available on iTunes and
is posted regularly at Undercard
Recorded Wednesday, June 23, 2010
And this is what we learned:
President Obama has balls… showing up in a Sox hat
Allen hates the wave
Fair-weather Nats fans are led by a massive group of IBM consultants who can’t keep their mouths shut during the game
Allen hates IBM consultants who can’t keep their mouths shut during the
Stephen Strasburg’s ears ARE that big
Chili Cheese Half Smokes from Ben’s Chili Bowl = Good. The day AFTER Chili Cheese Half Smokes from Ben’s Chili Bowl = NOT so good.
Friday night games at Nats Park always end with a kick@ss fireworks show
Allen hates fireworks
We begin (as we often do when it comes to failure) in our nation’s capitol where the former Montreal Expos put on an exposition all their own the other evening. I could explain the premise of the story but I think this one quote just about sums it up: “…if there’s one thing we all can agree upon, it’s that exploding hot dog buns are high comedy indeed.” How can you top that? Well, maybe by spelling the name of your own team incorrectly on your jersey. But seriously guys, please keep it coming.
However, the farcical comedy stylings of the Washington Nationals pale in comparison to the tragi-comedy of the Chicago White Sox. Sure, they play in a mediocre division so they’re never really going to be out of it but they took a beating and a half yesterday afternoon. It all started when the Twins plated 20 runs to the Sox’ one and just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, the always eloquent Ozzie Guillen’s managed to jinx the impending Jake Peavy trade. Let me refresh your memory. Following the loss Guillen said, “I hope Peavy didn’t watch the scoreboard today. He might say no.”
Well Ozzie, you sure nailed that one. Maybe Peavy watched the scoreboard and maybe he didn’t but either way, he won’t be suiting up in Chicago pinstripes anytime soon.
So that’s where we stand as May slowly draws to a close. But don’t worry, the Nationals are still out there and it’s only a matter of time before they manage to outdo themseleves once again. My guess? Teddy Roosevelt gets decapitated in the President’s Race on Kid’s Day at the ballpark. Once again ladies and gentlemen, your 2009 Washington Nationals!
–Thanks to SLK for the link to the Nats story.
This weekend we saw a series pitting the team with the best record in
the league against the team with the worst record. At what point in the
season do you think we’ll see this again and which teams will take part
the next time around?
As long as the Washington Nationals continue to be a baseball franchise (sorta), you can be quite sure that this scenario will pop up once again. Will they be playing the MLB best Cardinals next time? The Dodgers? The Blue Jays in June during interleague play?
The truth is: I have absolutely no clue.
Because so far nothing this season has been on my radar: that the Cardinals’ piecemeal bullpen could hold itself together through April… that the Blue Jays would find a way to win in the AL East… that no one wants Pedro Martinez…
But in the end, one thing will always remain certain: The Washington Nationals are a national joke.
After some hardcore number-crunching analysis, one might conclude that their suckage is rooted in their inherent identity crisis:
- Are we the Expos?
- Are we the Senators who are now the Twins?
- Are we the Nationals who were the Expos?
- Are we the other Senators who are now the Rangers?
Or perhaps it stems from their dizzying closet of uniform combinations:
Dear readers, I could go in a million different directions with that snafu of a baseball bodega — none of them good — but I will save you (and myself) from the certain discomfort and unpleasant visualization it would cause.
Whatever the reason for the Nationals’ lack of success, I must admit how sad it was for me — as a baseball fan — to see such a beautiful ballpark only a quarter full for a Friday night game. It was disappointing too that there were more Cardinal fans in attendance than Nats fans and that the loudest cheers I heard all weekend were in response to the Capitals vs. Penguins playoff hockey game — the favorable D.C. score of which was posted on the jumbotron in between innings, thus rousing Washingtonians into a fervent coup d’etat aimed towards building a bigger hockey arena while at the same time finding a more thirsty suitor for the oh-so-lowly Nats, all of their prior nicknames, logos and dysfunctional sausages.
So far, no takers.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Senators Sausages image courtesy of Wonkette)
(Uniform image courtesy of Wikipedia)
Jeff’s weekend visit to our nation’s capitol got off to a wild start at
Nationals’ Park as every run scored via home run. And if that wasn’t
enough, Jeff’s not-so-secret man-crush, Albert Pujols, came up a triple
short of hitting for the cycle. But despite all that, there was really only one truly revelatory event during the game.
See, there’s a moment in a baseball game when your clean-up hitter steps to the plate and a song fills the park as it blasts out of the speakers. At this moment the opposing team feels a little shiver of fear and the crowd leans forward in anticipation. Unless you step up to Phil Collins belting out “I can feel it coming in the air tonight.” At that point it’s fair to say that fear is probably not what your opponent is feeling.
Ladies and gentlemen, Adam Dunn and your 2009 Washington Nationals!