More than any other sport, baseball has a rich tradition of facing, and overcoming, the language barrier. Sometimes it leads to comical misunderstandings, sometimes it just leads to the comical stylings of Ozzie Guillen.
There are times, though, when the language barrier leads to a moment where you can only sit back, watch and then watch again. For instance, if you were watching Bulgarian TV in 2008, you might have seen this:
I have only one question. Who is this Ken Lee and how long until the Pirates sign him?
And so in this Podcast…
Jeff and Johanna welcome a paragon of baseball intelligentsia, Mr. Paul Lebowitz — the one and only Prince of New York! If you aren’t already reading the Prince’s daily column *here* or *here* then you probably should get on that. Like, right away. Or else. And if that ain’t enough, you can certainly follow him on Twitter too. To be honest, the man is too ruthless and too unfettered for you to not be paying attention to him… so the RSBS crew made sure to get him at his best. Among the titillating
topics of discussion: Jason Bay’s UZR, men left on base (LOB), Keith Hernandez’s hunches, BRAINS!!!!… the Lou Piniella Mailbag and much, much more!
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 Films.
**Image by Annette T. (Thanks, Annette!) Check out her sweet@ss blog!
Recorded Saturday , June 12, 2010
What’s black and blue and so p!ss drunk that it looks like a Philadelphia Flyers fan?
If you answered the Cubs/Whitesox Crosstown Classic, then you are absolutely correct, dear reader! Now, buy me a shot (and none of that buttery nipple nonsense; hit me with the Jameson)!
Verily, I love the Second City infighting. Cubs. White Sox. Northside. Southside. Rotten Governors. Presidents of the United States. Whether both teams are playoff bound (2008) or just treading water til next April (2010), it is no secret that this intracity rivalry brings out the best — ahem — worst in human nature.
And that includes making baseball managers think they can rap.
Don’t hate MC Sweet Lou and DJ Gui-licious… ‘cuz they’re right.
From the beginning, RSBS has been about both baseball and politics. But, it’s easy to lose track of the politics when the baseball plays out like it did this year. Also, the politics have been sucking. I mean, something needs to happen with health care but I’m sick of talking about it and even more sick of hearing about it.
Luckily, whenever I hit a point where American politics isn’t doing it for me, all I need to do is look south. No, a bit further south. No, not Guatemala. Keep going. Ok, there it is. Venezuela and it’s coffee-swilling chuckle-head of a president. So, what’s happening in the mind of el presidente today?
Hm, a little baseball over in that corner of the brain which makes sense. I mean, he is Venezuelan. Yep, definitely a little crazy over in that corner which makes sense since he’s from the same country as Ozzie Guillen. But those are just sideshows. If you really want to know what’s going on just step into the three-ring circus of Hugo’s anti-American paranoia. It’s a non-stop riot of fire-breathing, wild animal taming and tiny cars full of clowns. And this time it’s all about the war the US is apparently trying to launch against Venezuela from Colombia.
Here’s the thing, Hugo. Even if we wanted to start that war (which we don’t because, let’s face it, no one really cares about Venezuela), we don’t have the resources to do so. Cutting off ties with Colombia over this makes about as much sense as the proverbial cutting off of the nose to spite the face. Really Hugo, you need to sit back and take a lesson from someone who understands putting aside differences so we can get along. Deuce Poppi, take it away:
Happy Monday, y’all.
That’s right, dear readers. White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen is joining the Fox Baseball Pre & Post Game Shows as an insider analyst during the World Series.
I can’t see how this could possibly go wrong.
Unless, y’know, Ozzie tells Chris Rose that “Hees a garbage and hees children ees a garbage” or if he mentions to Mark Grace that “Hees a f^ggot” or reminds Eric Karros that “hees head ees as beeg as those peeg rats at Wreegley Feel.”
No matter how many times they have to hit the bleep button while Ozzie is on the air, I imagine his self-sacrificial lampooning for a Fox ratings spike will be less likely to fail as Glenn Beck would acting as a PETA spokesman:
Note to Mr. Beck: Don’t be killin’ no frogs on live television yo!
Hate me ‘cuz I transleeterate Ozzie’s lingo, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
***IMPORTANT PROGRAMING NOTE***
Suggested to us by the always hilarious Jonestein at BABL, Mr. Krause and I will be competing in a World Series Metaphor Competition — a Metaphor-Off… yeah, let’s call it that.
Why? ‘Cuz we can. And we will.
But we need your help! As you know, Al and I champion ourselves as masters of the meandering metaphor; and we need your suggestions. What do you want to see metaphorized? (Yes, that’s a word. I made it up.) It could be something as simple as an individual player, a team, a rule, a concept, whatever. We want your ideas. Email us at firstname.lastname@example.org, Twitter us at @RSBS or kindly comment on a post with your suggestion. After selecting a trio of your topics, Mr. Krause and I will then post our metaphors during the World Series and YOU the reader will vote for the winner in this best of three competition.
Don’t just sit there…. suggest, suggest, suggest!
Fear not, my dear and trusted readers, for I also feel the sentiment of pain and worry caused by Mr. Krause’s latest right-field reclamation. While it is common for seedy men in prominent positions of power to manipulate their stances on a particular subject in order to woo the masses, this one goes far and beyond being just a simple cause for alarm.
One minute Mr. Krause is doling out his undying hatred for the “evil” Yankees; the next he’s praising New York’s golden boy, Derek Jeter (nice work on catching Lou Gehrig, by the way). And the worst part about it? He substantiates his softness by claiming the “Kalamazoo” connection.
To get to the heart of this conspiracy, the RSBS interns and I have toiled hard to unlock the mystery of Mr. Krause’s secrecy. So just go with me here…
Kalamazoo. While this is the city where Mr. Krause and I first met and became friends, this is also close to the home of a minor league baseball team: the West Michigan Whitecaps, affiliate of the Detroit Tigers.
Tigers. This is the team Mr. Krause supposedly loves. This is the team that was defeated by the St. Louis Cardinals in the 2006 World Series. This is the team synonymous with backwoods alcoholic racists. This is the team that lost 119 games in 2003.
119. If you add up the individual digits of this atrocious number, you will get 11. The word “eleven” has six letters in it, three of them “e”s, eerily akin to the word “seethe”!
Seethe. If anyone has the ability to foam at the mouth from agitation, it is Mr. Krause. Some would even call him a shape-shifter — like he showed us in his last video, which proved he has a special place in his heart for Colby Rasmus (and cross-dressing).
Colby Rasmus/Cross-Dressing. Only in Mr. Krause’s world does this combination sound like a great way to spend a Friday night. And Al loves Fridays.
Fridays. If you are a woman and you go on a date with Mr. Krause, this is where you will go. This is Al’s place to spend big. Pay special attention to his overbearing recommendations of anything and everything from the “Jack Daniel’s Grill” menu. Al loves him some Jack Daniel’s.
Jack Daniel’s. This is the only key you need to unlock Mr. Krause’s mind.
Mr. Krause’s Mind. Der-ek Je-ter *clap-clap-clap-clap-clap*… Der-ek Je-ter *clap-clap-clap-clap-clap*… Der-ek Je-ter *clap-clap-clap-clap-clap*
Yes, folks, that is what Al was trying to say.
He loves Derek Jeter.
And if Ozzie Guillen can kiss a dude then I have absolutely no problem with Al lovin’ on Jeet. Just come out and say it; and don’t blame it on geography.
Hate me ‘cuz I pull back the layers, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
The beautiful thing about the politics of today and yesterday is that one thing remains the same. No matter whether you’re wrong or right, all you have to do is make some sort of ad hominem attack and it will get you air time.
This has become increasingly true during the normally boring Washington summers when the news channels are just itching for something to break the tedium of the recess. And this year has provided plenty of sparks. Dick Cheney has made himself more accessible than he was during the eight years of Bush’s presidency, emerging on a regular basis to proclaim that Obama is making the country less safe. And everyone seems to be lining up to take a whack at the universal health care plan although it’s interesting to note how many of those people already have insurance.
But I also realized something. Baseball is seriously lacking these same types of attacks. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it before but at this time of the year, when all the races are heating up, where’s the fire? Why aren’t the Giants and Rockies cracking on each others’ mothers? Why aren’t the Rangers poking fun at Pedroia’s size? And why aren’t the Tigers and Twins provoking Ozzie Guillen into even crazier rants?
C’mon people. This is baseball. America’s pastime. And you know what else America is home to? The yo’ mama joke. See the connection? Ok, let’s get on it. I’ll start. Albert Pujols’ mama is so dumb, she thinks a shortstop is when she runs into 7/11 for a hotdog and a Slurpee.