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.
I have to admit something. I watched more coverage of Hurricane Sandy hitting the East Coast than I did of the World Series. Part of this was superstition as it seemed that every time I turned on the Tigers, they proceeded to screw up. But part of it was also the sense of inevitable dread that emanated from the World Series starting during the third inning of the first game.
But it wasn’t just the putridness of the World Series. It was also the simple fact that it’s not every day that you get to watch a hurricane. More than that, how often do you get to see Anderson Cooper look like a bedraggled Chihuahua wearing a Karl Lagerfeld wig?
Maybe it would have been different if the Tigers had been at least somewhat competitive. Although it also begs the question, what would MLB have done if the Series would have overlapped with Sandy? Obviously the two cities competing weren’t directly affected by the storm but with the country’s largest media market, NYC, shut down by the storm, would it have even been worthwhile to play the games and lose the advertising dollars?
Ultimately it doesn’t really make a difference because the Series ended quickly and in a whimper. Sandy ended pretty quickly, too, but at least she let out a roar before fading away.
When I was 7 years old I watched Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. That one game had a huge impact on me, my imagination and why I eventually became the baseball-lovin-monster I am today.
It was the first time I’d ever witnessed “a miracle”, the first time I really understood you need 27 outs to win a baseball game and the first time I realized that there is no substitute for hard work.
Years later, as a teenager, I recall hearing Gary Carter tell his version of what took place in Flushing that night, that during his at-bat that started the astonishing go-ahead rally his only thought to himself was “Don’t make the last out.”
That resonated with me.
Don’t make the last out.
Don’t ever give up.
Don’t give any effort but your best.
Rest in peace, Number 8.
Move over, Keith, there’s a new number 17 in town and he’s got everyone going so LINsane that those all-night disco-caine parties from ’86 look like an afternoon tea. That’s right, folks. Just when you thought you might finally be over that Tim Tebow hangover, in walks the first EVER American born Chinese to play in the NBA. And boy can he play!
(If you don’t know who Jeremy Lin is by now, then it’s time to OPEN YOUR EYES)
Don’t worry, I’m not gonna go into some long philosophical diatribe on how Lin’s soft swishing three serves as the perfect metaphor for a hard-working, faith-based US American populous because, as you might already know, THAT’S CRAZY TALK.
What I am going to do is urge you to jump on board the LINvincible Train so you’re not all alone out there on Planet Boring. Besides overusing the same lame LIN puns, the LINvincible Train also features dramatic spin-moves and celebrity bandwagoneers… like the Colorado Rockies’ Jeremy Guthrie!
It’s amazing what getting out of Baltimore can do for a pitcher’s offseason creativity.
G’head, Jeremy! Yer doin’ it right!
Hate me ‘cuz you can, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
The above picture is one of the remaining relics from that year 2000 sketch production extraordinaire staged at Kalamazoo College that brought its fans FUN, LAUGHS and FREE PUDDING. (Not kidding, we actually served free pudding to all patrons.)
Of course, dear readers galore know what eventually became of my persnickety and oft lugubrious colleague, Mr. Krause and I. Y’know, how we blew up the internets with our unique take on the baseball-politico world and all. But what of that crouching fella in the middle there?
That’s Jordan Klepper.
And here is Mr. Klepper, recently, with the lovely Laura Grey.
STILL KICKIN’ COMEDY TAIL!
Mr. Klepper grew up a huge Ryne Sandberg fan, and while living in The Chi, he wore his Cubs hat proudly. But then he moved to New York, and after a couple of Mets games we took in last summer, I couldn’t help but notice him salivating all over R.A. Dickey.
PS. The dude with the do-rag is Nick. I have no idea where or what he is doing in the world today but I’m sure he’s rockin’ it ‘cuz he was super cool back in school.
PPS. Yes. Mr. Krause is doing “the double handed shocker”.
While New York state takes the social lead in legalizing gay marriage, I think it’s appropriate to also give props to the professional athletes who have joined the proactive “It Gets Better” video campaign. Grant Hill, Kevin Youkilis, Matt Cain, Barry Zito and many more, have joined the cause to remind LGBT teens that they have a right to live happy lives, just like the rest of the world, and that the bullying stewing from ignorance and intolerance will eventually get better.
Chicago Cubs rookie second baseman, Darwin Barney, has also joined the cause. Chicago Tribune writer Paul Sullivan, wrote a nice piece about Barney’s involvement and, again, I highly commend Darwin for doing so. However, he did say something that must be corrected, something that is, at this point laughable for anyone to actually believe. He said:
“It hit home for me because … I have a few family members who are gay. There’s nothing weird about it. It’s a decision that you should be able to make and not be discriminated against.”
Darwin Barney, being gay is not a choice. There is no decision to make, just like I did not have a decision in what color my skin would be, or how tall I would eventually become.
One is either gay, straight or all of the above. There is no choice involved.
And this is something that needs to be understood completely if things are truly going to get better.
Hate me ‘cuz it’s still allowed, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
With the Mets no longer tenaciously controlling last place in the NL Central, New York really needed something else to talk about. Stage right, enter Dominique Strauss-Kahn. DSK, as he’s more commonly known, is a big name in foreign policy and international banking circles but wasn’t exactly a household name outside of France. Luckily for NYC (and unluckily for DSK), that all changed a few Saturdays ago.
Now, in retrospect, DSK’s path to the Riker’s perp walk seems like the culmination of a really bad day. You’re in your expensive hotel room, about to fly business class overnight to have a chat with Angela Merkel. Then bam, you’re doing an early morning shuffle in front of the NYC press corps. Which isn’t to say that DSK is the first person to have a really bad day. Look at this guy. First, the homerun goes right over his head. Then, a beer comes showering down all over it:
The main difference is that the unlucky recipient of the beer shower didn’t sexually assault a maid in his expensive hotel room (I assume). And to be fair, that is a pretty big difference.
There’s a lesson in this for all of us. Sure, you may be at the top of your game. Yes, you might be the assumed front-runner for the Presidency of La France. And it’s even possible that people will make excuses for you like, you’re being framed or engaging in a tragically nihilistic form of self-sacrifice. However, when it’s all said and done, there’s really only one thing to keep in mind. The lady who comes and offers you turn-down service is only there to handle the bed sheets.