the Yankees for the best record in baseball. Can we reasonably say at
this point that the Twins are the best run team in baseball?
All biases aside, Rob, to say the Twins “beat up” the AL Central sorta glides over the fact that, outside of the White Sox, the Twins really had no competition going into the season to begin with; that the White Sox totally derailed (twice!) only made the Twins look more dominant.
But I understand your want, your desire, your dream to cast the Twins in a plushy role like that of the highfalutin, media-darling Yankees. Well, brother, dream on… ‘cuz, reasonably speaking, the Twins ain’t the Yankees.
Nor are they the Rays.
Nor the Phils.
Hell, they’re not even close!
In my opinion (which happens to be right), those three are the best teams in baseball right now. And when you add the qualifier of “best run”, well, sorry. I really can’t look any further than the best teams. Period.
Are the Twins good? Yes. Are they capable of going all the way? Sure. Can I slot them in as the best run team in baseball? No way!
Believe me, I tip my cap to the entire Twins organization. They build from the ground up. They instill in their players the concept of playing the game the right way. They do the little things well and fundamentally, they are as sound as a team can possibly be.
But when the pressure is on, they fail. When they need to win the big game, they don’t. Not yet, at least. And going into a short series with Liriano, Pavano and Duensing isn’t quite as mortifying to the opposition as going in with Hamels, Halladay and Oswalt (lookout!).
To me, being the best run team in baseball would require, at the very least, a track record of winning when it matters the most — a trip to the World Series would be even better. But the Twins haven’t been in that situation since Danny Gladden hit leadoff and Barry Bonds had a normal sized forehead. And despite all the good things the Twins’ brass has done in recent years, can I really celebrate a front office that let Johan Santana go for Deolis Guerra, Carlos Gomez, Philip Humber and Kevin Mulvey?!?!?!?
I love me some Joe Mauer and Delmon Young just as much as the next baseball dork, but, let’s be honest with ourselves: they ain’t scarin’ anybody.
Hate me ‘cuz I think the Twins’ are the weakest playoff link, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Chairman Mauer image courtesy of Twinkie Town)
***SEND US YOUR FILIBUSTERS****
Something on your mind? Want to see Jeff and Al sweat (separately, not together, eww)? Think you got a real stumper? Send us your Filibuster question(s) by commenting or emailing them to us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
***Information that pins Mr. Krause as a closet Tea Bagger also welcome (he won’t stop talking about Christine O’Donnell, you know. Just sayin).
With much of the playoff picture slowly coming into focus, we shift our gaze over here at RSBS to other important races still in progress. Of course the political scene commands a fair amount of attention with the crazies trying to “take back” the government. And with Michigan 3-0 on the season and both big state schools beating Notre Dame, I’m loving the college football for the moment.
But what about the race to the bottom? You would think that KC would have the toilet bowl of the AL Central wrapped up in a death grip but Cleveland still has a very real chance at snatching it back. Even more amazingly, two other teams in the AL have less wins than the Royals or Indians.
I guess that’s another one of those great aspects of baseball. Even when it’s over, it’s not quite over. And even though it may not be pretty, it’s usually entertaining. Kind of like these guys:
The sCrUBS are now 3 and 9 against the
I am just wondering how much more the Pirates have to do before we can
them with the sCrUBS as the doormat in the National League.
Great Blog Guys,
I like the question but I’m going to have to remand you to basic math. Yes, the Cubs are terrible and they seem to reserve their worst for the Pirates. As a Tigers fan, I’m all too well-acquainted with this phenomenon which I like to call Royal-itis. Sweep the season series from the Yankees? Sure, why not. Beat the two decade doormats of the AL Central more than once per season? Nah, not really feeling that.
But, the fact of the matter is that the only number that really counts is the overall win-loss figure. And when you look at those numbers, for both this year and for the recent past, you can see that there’s no real comparison between the Buccos and the Cubs. Despite all their hyjinks and Zambrano’s incredible implosion, the Cubs are still 6 games ahead of the Pirates and barring Lebron James’ conversion to baseball and subsequent saving of the Pirates, they appear well on their way to another impressive losing season. The Cubs will finish where they always do, just a little ways south of their expectations.
Really, the best that we can hope for out of either of these teams is a little entertainment. God knows that Cub fans don’t really go to the ballpark to watch the game. They go to be seen and to drink themselves stupid. Pirates fans? Honestly, I have no idea why they go. Pittsburgh must be an incredibly boring town if that’s the best thing you can come up with.
Here’s my final take on things, Mike. The Cubs may be the personal doormats of the Pirates but with the twenty year record the Pirates are sporting, they’ll be holding on to that overall doormat title for a while yet. Here’s an analogy that might help you understand the situation. The Cubs are like a West Virginia coal miner’s doormat. It’s dirty but you expect it. The Pirates are more like the doormat you’d find in front of a frat house at the end of second semester, right after they’ve thrown the biggest kegger in school history while it was raining. Yeah, sometimes you might as well just throw the thing out and start over. Hope that helps.
Say what ya want about the mighty market divas of the Yankees, the Red Sox, the Dodgers. Go ahead and hate on A-Rod, slam Manny, spit on Youk… whatevs. Sometimes they deserve it; sometimes they don’t. It’s all a part of professional sports.
But no matter how infantile and annoying MLB superstars can be (yes, I’m looking at you, Milton Bradley), none of them quite qualify as being as toxically asinine as Nicolas Anelka and his band of busted b!tches that once formed the French national soccer team.
You think Roberto Alomar spitting on John Hirschbeck was bad? Imagine Roberto Alomar spitting on John Hirschbeck during the World Series, with a big nasty particle-filled loogey, and all his teammates joining in.
Yeah. That’s sorta what France’s World Cup was like. But at least it’s over. And now we can think about… things that are worse than France. For instance:
Duh. You knew that was comin’.
Rob Blagojevich’s Image
For all of you who live outside of Illinois, be glad you do; ‘cuz this Blago crap is just now gettin’ started for real. The lego hair, the smarmy and disingenuous smile, the creepy way he talks to every woman as if she were a dumb, money-chasin, cheap-trick-happy cocktail waitress… this dude is going to the joint. Eventually.
You knew that was comin’ too.
It makes me sick that he was in my neighborhood. It makes me even more sick to know that he was at Sox Park. And it makes me Bush-Sr-Throwin-Up-On-Japanese-People sick to know he tossed the first pitch to Mark Buehrle!
You didn’t think this could end with anything worse, did you? I’m pretty sure I heard the Astros’ team on-base-percentage was the worse on-base-percentage in the history of time, including all dimensions — even those we are unaware of yet…
That’s why they’re called the LOLstros.
Hate me. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I would pay Albert Pujols the moon. I would pay Derek Jeter the sun. Roy Halladay my left — AHEM. Okay, you know what I mean. These aren’t Chicago Transit Authority workers who sit around in bunches and watch one guy change one light bulb while they all count how many more days til that fat pension check kicks in. Pujols, Jeter, Halladay… men like that… their services are incalculable.
On the contrary, inflation and greed have changed the dynamics of the world economy so much that I find it frighteningly appalling that certain people in certain positions are able to pull down the amount of scratch they do. Considering how so many US Americans (me) are just skating by, watching ye olde savings account disappear quicker than an Oriole lead in the 9th, I think it’s time we call some of these folks out.
Don’t get me wrong. I ain’t no hater. But soon you’ll agree… overcompensation can be a nagging pain for those of us on the opposite end of the money tree.
Sure, in the baseball world, $7 million a year is quite the bargain, especially for a perennial MVP candidate who can single-handedly carry a team for weeks at a time. Or is it? In the case of Hanley Ramirez, it’s probably less about overcompensation and more about breaking child labor laws. Yeah, you heard me right. ‘Cuz only whiny kids and spoiled brat beotches find themselves exempt from exerting maximum effort on the diamond. And at $7 million a year or $70 a year, when ya play baseball for a living, I expect you to hustle. Always.
Did you know that the strikingly beautiful oldest daughter of former Alaska governor and ultimate purveyor of Backwardism has signed a deal with a speakers bureau to make between $15,000 and $30,000 per speech. Uh… m’kay. So… uh… what’s she gonna speak about? Let’s see, what would make anything Bristol Palin has to say important to me (or anyone)? She’s the daughter of a famous politician. So what? I’m the son of an awesome MRI technologist. She got knocked up while in high school. So what? I was smart enough to wrap it up. Uh… she’s attractive. So what? Hello!?!? Where the hell is my $30K per speech contract?
Remember this guy?!? If you hear that Twilight Zone music sifting through your head, you are not alone, dear readers. I was able to catch the end (and most, er… exciting?) part of that Royals/Indians matchup last night… y’know, the one where Kerry Wood came in throwing 97 mph gas that the Royals — yes, the ROYALS — blasted all over the park. I don’t know about you, but if I’m paying someone $10.5 million a year — someone who always seems to be or is about to be injured — I would ask him to at least be as good as his replacement. Throw in the eminent departure of the most highly publicized free agent in the history of sports and yeah, I’d say it’s time to light that Cuyahoga on fire again, Cleveland. Yep. Let go and let that baby burn.
Hate me ‘cuz your girlfriend digs me, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
For the Matt Drudges, Satanic She-Worms and Jabba the Huts of the world, President Obama’s controversial decision to seat an inexperienced left-leanin’ lawyer to the world’s highest court is not going too well. Indeed, dear readers, the rip-roarin’ has already commenced with character-bashing slander at the ready: “she has no experience!”… “she’s part of the Chicago machine!”… “She’s ugly! You sure that ain’t Gary Dell’abate!?!”
I am not sure that she is not Gary Dell’abate.
She has no experience. So what? Does she have what it takes? Does she have the balls to — wait, never mind.
As is the case with baseball, experience doesn’t always guarantee success.
Mike Leake never pitched a game in the minors and yet he has a record of 3-0 right now, one of those wins coming against the sCrUBS (which nets him extra points ‘cuz I say so).
Don Denkinger never had any experience being completely retarded for one single World Series play yet he managed to get the job done in 1985.
And let me remind you of a fella who didn’t have any managerial experience whatsoever: a man, who as a player achieved a lifetime batting average of .219 with 32 homers and 112 RBI. That man’s name is A.J. Hinch and that man manages the Arizona Diamondbacks and the Arizona Diamonbacks are… um… the D’backs are…
Pay no attention.
We’re all in this US American mess together.
Hate me ‘cuz it’s trendy, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
As no exception to this eons-old rite of passion, I couldn’t stand the drought any longer, and on Wednesday night I ventured on over to my neighborhood cathedral: the ever tantalizing, the ever teasing, the ever titillating Sox Park.
I scored like no man has ever scored before.
Scorecards tell stories — great, fantastic stories that can be pieced together with digits and asterisks and squiggly lines. Each one is unique — each scorer different from the next, yet universally similar enough to enlighten anyone else willing to read them.
When I was a kid I found scorecards from the ’60s an uncle of mine had kept. There I was, decades later, in a dark basement in the dead of winter, recreating the majesty of Ken Boyer and Bob Gibson and Tim McCarver on a hot July afternoon… in my head.
So go ahead, take a gander… and try not to drool (click image to enlarge):
Hate me ‘cuz you’re allowed to, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.