Leave it to my pessimistic and oft paralyzing misanthrope of a colleague, Mr. Krause, to dampen everyone’s Labor Day spirit by mentioning those two words most feared by fans of our national pastime: Baseball Strike.
Chris Carpenter pitched a one-hit, complete game shut out against the Brewers to further solidify the Cardinals’ grips on the NL Central crown and Al wants to talk about a potential baseball strike!?! This malicious posturing is akin to sleeping with your crazy ex-girlfriend on the eve of your wedding.
Why screw with pain?
Yet Mr. Krause has made a lofty name for himself by dropping unfounded speculation. So we’ll just go with it.
And by go with it I mean briefly say that given the collusion and vindictive-laden history of Major League Baseball and its owners, the Player’s Union has got to have the right to strike as a last (albeit catastrophic) resort. While the horrors of the impetuous strike of 1994 continue to wreak havoc on the game (disillusion among fans, PED scandals, destruction of small market teams, etc), the Union would be absolutely insane to go so far again.
But still, the choice must be there for them to have any leverage.
As great as baseball is, it is not responsible for governing a people. It is not responsible for policing our streets, putting out fires, getting people to work. If they wanna strike, they should be able to do so… then watch as our interest in the English Premier League collectively jumps to dramatic new heights.
If it ever came to that — baseball taking itself for granted… again — then I think we all know how serious the alcoholism epidemic will become among Major Leaguers. I know this because my Labor Day (just one day without work) looked a lot like this:
|Tosh.0||Returns Oct. 8th|
Now imagine 750 out-of-work Sidney Ponsons running through the streets of our nation and tell me the Players Union doesn’t know better.
Hate me ‘cuz I walk the walk, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
*Cap tip to Tosh.0 on the video.
A sober Sidney Ponson can only mean one thing.. The guy must’ve
discovered another substance to abuse, evidently one that gives the
public the illusion he’s a moderate man while not enhancing his
performance [not just because it’s illegal but because, after all,
failure is the one thing he can accomplish at any level of
intoxication]. Is RSBS aware of his alternative to the booze? If so,
did he receive it from a certain former Texas teammate that sure as
hell had me fooled into thinking he sobered up [until the photographic
Flair for the Dramatic
New York City
In general, I try not to take anything too seriously. That’s just not how I am. Like the eponymous character from “The Big Lebowski,” I abide. But there are some things I take seriously. And addiction is definitely one of them.
Now, I’m a lucky guy. I don’t have an addictive personality. I’ve done my fair share of things I shouldn’t have done but I gave them up in a second with no cravings or anything. I guess I’m just blessed like that. However, that’s not how it usually happens. Addiction isn’t a one-time battle that you just suddenly win. It’s a daily struggle and what we’ve seen happen with Josh Hamilton is proof enough of that.
Imagine for a second being in a job like a professional baseball player. Yeah, you may love the game and you may be completely devoted to watching your team everyday but imagine going out on the field, day in and day out, warming up and knowing that every little thing you do during the game, every little mistake will be analyzed by thousands and possibly millions of people. And if you don’t perform to the tune of the big bucks you’re making, your team has no problem dumping you on the landfill of history.
I have rough days at work, days when I’m sick and tired of it but it’s nothing compared to the stress these guys are feeling. Why else do they try to find the latest edge, legal or not, and do whatever they can to keep it their own? And when that edge starts to wear, when it’s no longer enough, something has to be done to dull the anxiety, keep away the fear. It’s no surprise to me that athletes turn to a little booze or some pot and it’s definitely no surprise that, like brother Axl told us, “The little got more and more.”
I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s easy to laugh at the antics of a Ryan Leaf or Sidney Ponson or tsk-tsk when it’s a story like Josh Hamilton and his backsliding. But I’m thinking that although I have no room to pull any sort of holier-than-thou card out of the deck, maybe it’s time we applaud Sidney for getting his act together and focus on what Hamilton has accomplished despite the inevitable setbacks he is going to experience. One day at a time.
At the end of last week’s thrilling Filibuster, I asked (as usual) for more dear reader questions… and — if possible — pictures of journeyman screw-up Sidney Ponson not under the influence.
Hilarious, I know.
Hilarious because, indeed, it was just a throw-away quip… a nonsensical one-off… a friggin’ jape.
But boy was I surprised when our inbox actually received a picture of Sidney which shows him to be in complete control of his own cognizance.
Special thanks to Mary Retallick (pictured right, whom you can often find on Gateway Redbirds Forum) for sending this to our attention… and special, special thanks to you, Mary, for sending it with the subject line: Picture of Sidney Ponson sober.
‘Cuz that is funny.
Not only do you “get it”, you also got us, making us full-fledged believers in other mythical creatures like Bigfoot, Skunk Ape and a well-spoken G.W. Bush.
And to a man (that’s you, Sidney) more accustomed to hearing the words “designated for assignment” than “we would like to offer you a contract extension”, this post is most assuredly a sign of better things to come.
Yeah. You got me. I’m totally lying.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right, Sidney.
Wow. And somehow I thought I was the only one who spoke in cryptic non sequiturs. Since that is obviously not the case, let me go ahead and assume that the “it” in this curious question must be that big Prince Fielder-like elephant in the room — that thing that I have avoided all season long, that embarrassing premonition that makes me, well, makes me look like a fool…
Because it is no lie that before the 2009 season even started, I had written off the Cardinals’ chances of competing all together. Due to the stagnant off season — an off season where General Manager John Mozeliak did very little except to add a few journeymen relievers and a .220 hitting Jeff Spicoli lookalike shortstop — I was sure that the Redbirds were destined for the bottom of the NL Central.
Oh how I overlooked the perennial abomination that is the Pittsburgh Pirates.
Still, after watching the St. Louis bullpen blow nearly 30 late inning leads in 2008, how was I to expect that they would somehow find a way to be this good this quickly? I am simply a man of reason and reason said to make other plans for October. And now, as we sit atop the NL Central at 61-51, clearly the front-runners in the division despite the Cubs’ second half surge, I think it is time for me to do something that is rarely ever necessary:
I must admit that maybe… just maybe… I was wrong.
Indeed, Mike in Montgomery, TX, “it” is my disdainful pessimism for my favorite baseball team and it can only be cured by them performing well — from here til the end.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(*Man in pain image courtesy of All About Alcoholism — don’t ask)
***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 email@example.com.
***Pictures of a sober Sidney Ponson also welcome but we’re pretty sure those don’t exist.
Yes, dear readers, our venerable GW Bush came out yesterday and enlightened us with what has really been going on with the continuously slumping economy. Folks, it had nothing to do with poor management at home, questionable foreign policies nor an ever widening gap between Red and Blue US American ideologies. No.
“Wall Street got drunk.”
— G.W. Bush
Thank the gods. I was a tad bit worried there as I watched gas prices in Chicago soar to $4.50 a gallon. I was just slightly disturbed when I spent $40 bucks at CVS and all I bought were paper towels, crossword puzzles and American Pie: Band Camp on DVD. And I was a tad nervous when the doctor told me he could remove the lesions if only I put on a blonde wig, some heels and called him “Daddy”.
But thankfully, none of that was a result of a gummed-up government overrun by lobbyists and big oil. No. Wall Street has just been boozin’ a bit… and that, dear readers, is certainly understandable.
Because nothin’ says America like a good old buzz.
I certainly am not immune from this. In fact, by perusing the plentiful posts here at RSBS one could rightfully gather that we (Allen and I) are a bunch of drunks ourselves. It’s true! We are not ashamed!
US America is a country built on the boozing backgrounds of Europeans, Asians, Africans — all drunks! Like baseball and apple pie, an everlasting state of drunkenness is simply the American way; Wall Street could not hide for long.
In light of this new information, let us follow the President’s lead:
Every good drunk needs his drunken hero and baseball has always provided plenty. From Babe Ruth to Ty Cobb to Josh Hamilton, the grandest game on earth has never stopped producing inebriated icons. Jim Edmonds was mine until he switched sides, but I’ve included his picture here still because of the pleasant company he keeps while out on the town. Nowadays, I look to the boozing comeback of Sidney Ponson for inspiration… what a story. And Rondell White. He wasn’t named in the Mitchell Report because of his weakness for Tanqueray and tonics *wink, wink* but the man was a leader in the party scene.