In lieu of The Filibuster this fine Sunday afternoon, let us bask in the fever pitch of the most exciting play in sports combined with some… er… awkward umpiring:
Whoopsie! And… YAY!… I mean, if you’re a Padres fan and all.
Shame on Kenley Jansen for 1) falling asleep on the mound 2) making a terrible throw home and 3) not covering home in a timely manner. Seems like that’s the recipe for a Donnie Baseball @$$ chewing. And by the look of those jaws, I wouldn’t want any part of that.
They hired a sideline reporter. Her name is Britt McHenry.
And you are welcome.
It’s nice to see old crotchety baseball execs are finally getting the fact that sex sells. And let’s face it: if you’re going to commit time and money to watching bad baseball, the least the front office could do is give you something nice to look at.
As long as they don’t partner her with Gary Templeton, things could be looking up in San Diego.
Hate me ‘cuz I don’t do all my thinking with my brain, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
It is my hope that, a year from now, the likes of Michele Bachmann, Rick Perry and Arte Moreno’s checkbook exist merely as fuzzy postulations of the delusional masses — mere hiccups in the digestive tract of progress. Of course, I realize one of these three is never going to go away, so I have to do what I can to temper the sadness it has caused.
But sometimes things go away, never come back and leave us wondering… what if?
Slap bracelets? Hello?!?! Where have you gone, fine fashion accessory from my youth?
Meanwhile, let’s examine those forgotten baseballers of 2011 and determine if they should forget me, or forget me not.
Dude, seriously. 115 plate appearances in 2011 was 115 plate appearances too many. Known exclusively as an overpaid hot-head wife-beater who had ONE good season, there’s no reason for Milton to get another chance. If his outrageous childlike behavior and .212 BA over the last two seasons aren’t any indication that it’s time to forget this loser, maybe the fact that NO ONE LIKES HIM is.
FORGET ME NOT.
It’s difficult for me to believe that no one had any use for this scrappy go-get-em baseballer in 2011. How did the Padres — a 91 loss team! — not have any role for Eckstein last year? The dude does just about everything and he does it all right. He’s a leader, a teacher, a fighter. In my opinion, many teams could have used his services last season and I don’t see how that situation would change in 2012. Any team’s super utility role should be considered for the former World Series MVP.
Like Dexy’s Midnight Runners and Vanilla Ice, Manny being Manny has long lost its charm. The man is a cheater. A wife beater (notice the theme here?). A creep. He was caught (AGAIN) ‘roiding up and instead of acting like a man, ‘fessing up and handling his business with dignity, he ran away and hid from his fans, not saying a word. Now he wants back in. Not only that, but somehow he has snaked his way out of serving the 100 game ban deemed necessary for repeat ‘roid offenders and lucked out with only facing a 50 game suspension. Manny reeks of insidious ego. STAY AWAY PLEASE.
FORGET ME NOT.
Never thought I’d say this, but I feel sorry for the Mets. I really do. Just a game away from the World Series in 2006, who knew they would fail so hard in 2007, sign the biggest free agent pitcher on the market to a $137 million contract, fail even harder in 2008, then fall into baseball hell with more problems than the Congressional Reform Act? There was a time when Santana on the bump meant I had to watch that game. With all of his recent injuries, I doubt that will ever be possible again, but I still want to see the man pitch. And soon.
I’m still trying to figure out how Webb was able to land a $3 million contract last season after not having pitched AT ALL since 2008*. Indeed, he had a good run from ’06 t0 ’08, getting guys out with one of the nastiest sinkers I’ve ever seen, but when your rotator cuff no longer rotates, I think it’s time to stop chasing the glory that once was.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m blunt, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
*Actually, Webb pitched 4 innings in 2009. He gave up 6 runs off 6 hits before his arm fell off and he disappeared from baseball relevancy; but in my opinion, that hardly counts as “pitching”.
Also, FORGET RSBS NOT and our awesome Oakley Blender sunglasses give-away, made possible by our friends at Crown Royal! If you would like to win these sweet shades, all you gotta do is send us a picture showing why you are RSBS’ biggest fan. Email it to us at RSBSblog@gmail.com. The winner will be announced this Saturday, December 24th.
And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles…
Jeff tries his darnedest to be as polite as possible during his unfettered gloating of World Championship status (Go Cards!) while Second City’s Mark Piebenga adds some level-headed awesomeness to Johanna’s outlandishness and Allen’s seasoned straight man routine. Among the topics of discussion are “the greatest game ever”, the woes of rebranding an already twice championed franchise (talkin’ to you, Marlins), Theo Fever in the Chi, b!tch t!ts and much, much more!
Now grab some Crown Royal and enjoy yo’ self!
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Recorded Saturday, November 12, 2011
So much awesomeness has taken over the baseball-politico world lately — 2011 finally found itself a no-hitter, Al Qaeda lost its head, Glenn Beck still doesn’t have his own network — that we thought it’d be nice to share an equally surprising story.
Lucky for you, the RSBS interns dug up somethin’ real niiiiiiiiice.
Most people know about Doc Ellis’ LSD-aided no-hitter… it’s just more fun to hear him tell it in his own words:
When that one game exposes a rudimentary flaw that I have been gripin’ about for over three years now, then that’s when trouble starts. That’s when walls in my apartment become punch-holed and that’s when my neighbors consider burning me at the stake for my insane bouts of baseball rapture.
Ryan Franklin… brother… I love ya… and I know you only blew two saves last year, but you ain’t a closer.
Pitching to contact is fine if you’re Derek Lowe. It’s fine if you’re a starter. Heck, it’s fine if you’re guaranteed that the batted balls are going straight into someone’s glove. But in the 9th inning, with a one run lead… I don’t want ANYONE ON BASE. NO ONE.
Ya hear me?
When I bring a guy in to close a game, I want someone with firepower, someone with strikeout potential… someone who throws GAS, someone with a wicked slider, someone with an impossible-to-hit cutter.
Think Mo Rivera. Think Dennis Eckersely. Think Neftali Feliz.
The closer’s job is to come in and close the game, not to let ’em hit it and hope your defense saves you.
The best way to close a game is to miss the hitters’ bats. And Ryan Franklin has a real hard time doin’ that.
Now, for more on this, let us turn to our junior RSBS correspondents:
It may still be spring training, but the sCrUBS are already movin’ along at their regular pace. I was able to catch that feeling during Saturday’s spanking from the, er, lowly San Diego Padres.
Quade is the man for the job alright.
Any man who can sit through a butt-whoopin’ like that and not lose his cool definitely has what it takes to sit through another 80 or so butt-whoopins before the long, back-breaking season is over.
Hate me ‘cuz I point out the obvious, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
The fact that I am a complete and unparalleled baseball dork is no secret.
You know it. I know it. And the US American people know it.
Which is why I have no shame in admitting that I keep a rather odd notebook of newspaper clippings related to the game, peppered with creative doodles and instinctive comments when necessary.
The world cannot handle another Mark Prior comeback, just like it can’t handle another Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston reunion.
Enough is enough, people. Let us move on.
Hate me. Fine. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I thought the answer was excellent pitching.
If Ryan Webb is hangin’ with Yoda, then it’s a good bet that Mat Latos is hangin’ with Obi-wan… and Heath Bell is chillin’ with… Vader.
Hate me ‘cuz I can spin the double-bladed saber, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I”m right.
(Image courtesy of the AP)
Life must look pretty good to Cliff Lee right about now. Leaving behind the festering garbage heap that the Indians have become and landing four wins away from a World Series title is just about as good as it gets.
Meanwhile, a guy like Jake Peavy goes from the most perfect weather in the United States to the intemperate hell that is Chicago. Sure, he may have helped ruin the Tigers’ chances at the postseason but that’s not much to hang your hat on.
However, as good as life might be for Cliff, I’m pretty sure he’s nowhere near as happy as this guy:
I’m sure I’ve posted it before but some things just need to be repeated from time to time. Lame attempts at Afro-Caribbean Jesus rock definitely fit that category.
It’s Saturday! Go watch football.