Throw the Spaghetti in the Machine.
I’m a burning bush. I’m a wildfire. I’m singing in the rain and dancing again. Like Tim Tebow, I have a big god. BIGGER THAN ZEUS. I can put away my Club Confidential and stop pleasuring myself while crying. My iguana, Dudley, is beside himself too. We’re throwing confetti on each other, plowing through our best box of wine and eating marshmallows off the floor. For at least one week we’ll stop throwing flares at cars, getting arrested on our skateboards and falling asleep in alleys.
Because, for once, baseball took an unconventional route and picked fire-fire -flame-flame tapdancing bad@ss Justin Verlander as MVP. When we lost Buster Posey early in the season, Dudley and I had to act fast to find a baller we could have an unhealthy OBSESSION over; and Justin was our guy. He was the Hannibal Lecter to our Clarice. We even bought a special chianti.Dudley and I rarely missed a Verlander start. In between great Chrysler ads, he sat on my lap as we watched the Motown hero pitch deep into games, mystifying hitters, dropping jaws like change-ups. He was like Fast Eddie Felson in The Hustler when he came back to take down Minnesota Fats. Nailed every rail. Hit every spot. Geometry and speed to perfection. (Fitting that Minnesota is in the AL Central too. See what I did there?)
It would have been easy to pick an everyday player like Granderson or Ellsbury. Sure, they had splendid seasons. But this was the year where a starter — the first since Roger Clemens — gave everything needed and CARRIED a team to the playoffs.
While defense in football can be boring, pitching and defense in baseball… I LIVE FOR IT. I wasn’t around for Bob Gibson and Sandy Koufax. Wasn’t alive yet. But I love when the game offers pitchers whose starts you just can’t miss. When Pedro Martinez was in his prime I would’ve rather eaten my dinner off a urinal than miss a start.
And for next year? I’m looking at you, Stephen Strasburg. Throw the spaghetti in the machine and eat the children…
Follow Johanna on Twitter!
2006 was special, but this… this is… LEGENDARY. In fact, I think this is one of those cases where it really is necessary to describe the situation as EPIC.
And it’s epic, it’s legendary because, like a lot of good things that come to us in life, it was completely unexpected — increasingly unexpected — each step of the way.
From being 10.5 games out of a playoff spot on August 25th, to just squeezing their way in on the last day of the season, to beating one of the best baseball teams of the last decade, to nipping the rivaled favorite with a thumping in the Championship Series, to coming back from five deficits in a must-win Game 6 that included a game-tying bottom of the 9th RBI triple AND an extra-inning walk-off homerun BY THE SAME PLAYER.
To winning it all.
That gives me real, tangible hope for life. It reminds me that great things do happen when ya really work hard.
It says never give up.
And enjoy the ride.
Also, my first son’s name will be Freese. Just so ya know.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m on the winning team, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right. (Talkin’ to you, Jonestein) 😉
(Images via Michael Heiman/Getty Images)
Last night’s game — from here and forever to be referred to solely as “THE Game 6” — caused defibrillator industry stock prices to rise at the same exponential rate as my own blood pressure, let alone reminding the masses that YOU DON’T QUIT.
YOU NEVER QUIT.
For those three or four people who shamed the universe by not watching that most unimaginable game, here’s a quick video recap:
FREAKS! CIRCUS FREAKS! AHHHHHHHHH!!!
Invoking the ’06 Tigers defense? Seeing Albert lose his cool with the low strike calling ump? To come from behind FIVE times?!?!?
And David… wow… what about David Freese making himself a St. Louis LEGEND?!?
I hope I never wake up.
Happy Friday, Y’all!
(Image via Ezra Shaw/Getty Images)
Whether you’re a Rangers fan, a Cardinals fan, or just a good old puritan brand of baseball fan, there is no question that this World Series is so far proving to be one of the dramatically fulfilling variety. I mean, how many heart attacks is one expected to suffer through before this thing is over?!?! I would not be surprised if it goes the full seven.
But what does surprise me is that Derek Holland — good as he was in Game 4 — still holds his head high while wearing that small, malnourished varmint on his upper lip. I know his teammates razz him plenty; but seriously, how does that thing not make him hide his head in shame every night?
However he does it, the RSBS staff has taken notice. In fact, two of the more senior RSBS interns have approached me with the request to bring back the “Lady Killer”. For those of you dear readers unaware of this phenomenon, let me remind you with this picture taken during All-Star Weekend 2009:
It’s pointing at… the Lady Killer.
It’s often mistaken for a sex-life killer, but hell, if it works for Holland, maybe I should consider bringing it back.
Hate me ‘cuz you can, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
1. Remembering that no one gave us a chance in 2006 either
2. Sending a boatload of chicken, beer and video games to the Rangers’ clubhouse
4. Encouraging Wash to use Ogando against Craig, again and forever
5. Trying to find a reason to hate the Rangers (it’s hard!)
7. Watching — over and over and over again — Waino’s snappy curve to strikeout Inge in ’06
8. Driving by Wrigley Field, reminding myself that LIFE COULD ALWAYS BE WORSE
9. Organizing a harem of hotties to stand outside of Josh Hamilton’s house with an 8-ball and body shots
10. Whisky and beer
Happy Saturday, Y’all!
I’m a Cotton-Headed Ninnymuggins
Things are changing for me. Before I know it I’ll be wearing jeans and reading fiction. I don’t know where I am. My favorite color is rainbow. I’m giving in to wearing sandals over socks. I don’t need the therapy! I’m just mentally ill!
Tony Effing LaRussa is back in my world and I CAN’T STAND IT. He’s a throbbing, raging, @$$bag that I wish would go away but he won’t. And you can’t kill him. If you try, he just keeps coming back. And, with all my might, my baseball sensibilities consume me so much that I can’t not respect the man.
When I was a child I would squint and mistake him for Thundercats supervillain Mumm-Ra (Magician or sexual deviant?). I wanted to lightsaber him over and over BECAUSE I AM A JEDI! His steroid riddled teams have infuriated me to no end. I loved the Dodgers and Orel in the 80s, the Giants and their earthquake, my Cubs of the last decade. I’ve always respected the man and his managing abilities; but he really has outdone himself this year. WOW.
When the Cardinals beat the Tigers in their last World Series appearance with no pitching, that was quite a thing. What’s happening now is nothing short of spectacular managing. My Jeffy’s Cards are the hottest team in baseball and I will once again be rooting against Texas. Watching this series will be like being touched by a priest…
Follow Johanna on Twitter!