Okay, technically it was more of a catfight than a bidding war, but I guarantee you it was fierce. I was in college at the time, and I somehow duped two girls into believing I was A-list boyfriend material. A gnarly girlpocalypse ensued.
It was awesome.
Then there was also the time in middle school where, for a small fee of one US American dollar, I would open up my father’s Playboy collection for viewing, all in the name of health and sex education, of course.
But I’ve never been Yu Darvish-ed before. I mean, I’ve never had a bunch of folks throwing MAD MONEY at me just for the opportunity to negotiate a contract. I know, I know, it’s hard to believe, but Nolan Ryan has never gone all in on my ass…ets. My assets. That’s what I meant to say.
Personally, I cannot WAIT to see Yu Darvish in action. I’ve been salivating at his proposed Major League entry since the ’09 WBC and now it looks like I may finally get my wish. Picture a 2012 season with an Adam Wainwright, a Stephen Strasburg AND a Yu Darvish!?!?!? Somebody douse me with Gatorade!
Meanwhile, if Yu’s people are any good, then they got their Newt Gingrich on before teams put in their final bids. You know it, I know it and the American people know it: no one sells access like the Grand Old Party.
Oh the Dems do it too.
Ron Paul. That is all.
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
One of the best cures for just about anything (except probably dysentery) is vacation. Getting away from everything, giving yourself a chance to clear the cobwebs from the mind, often helps put it all into perspective. For instance, Joe Girardi started his vacation a little earlier than expected this season and has already come to the realization that he needs better starting pitching. Granted, pretty much any baseball fan could have told him that but sometimes you need a little time away to fully comprehend the obvious.
Maybe that’s the problem with Afghanistan and Pakistan:
They’re pretty limited on the number of countries they can visit without a visa and that definitely complicates things. Getting a visa is a big hassle so people just leave it be. When you do that indefinitely, though, it also limits your vacation options and next thing you know, Taliban.
There is another option, though. It ain’t cheap but it’s a do-it-yourself vacation that only requires a couple trees:
Yep, I think that’s exactly what the Afghans and the Pakistanis need. Come to think of it, Joe Girardi might need one, too, especially if he doesn’t find those pitchers.
Poor Barry Zito. People are really tearing him apart — as is expected because he has been awful — but sometimes the human in me can’t help but empathize. Despite my sympathies, Bochy’s plan is to yank him from the rotation and send him to the bullpen so he can ‘work things out’.
If I’m Barry Zito, I’m loving this.
How great would it be if I went to work tomorrow and my boss said: “Jeff, you’re doing a lousy job, so we’re going to allow you to not work so hard, lighten your stress, workload, etc. so you only have to work every couple of days or so in non-pressure situations. Oh, and don’t worry, we’ll still pay you the salary you get paid now.”
Eureka! Sign me up, Boss! I’ll show up and sit on my ^ss for the first two thirds of the work day, practice making shaving cream pies and chew on sunflower seeds. Just holler when you need me and make sure that the money is still in the bank.
Yes, I’m being silly. I know that Zito probably hates Zito’s performance more than anyone else ever could. But honestly, I wish things were so “awful” in my life that I got a guaranteed 100 million dollars coming my way whether I do good work ever again or not.
Though I previously alluded to a theory that Zito’s poor performance is perhaps rooted in his propensity for courting high-profile, high-maintenance divas, I am beginning to wonder if this isn’t just another deserved consequence of dealing with the Devil himself (in this case, the Devil is Scott Boras, not Ann Coulter, though she is still the Devil too). Seven years and $126 million? That’s a lot of dough. Yet Major League teams are still willing to take on (and pay for) the inherent risks associated with any Scott Boras deal. The J.D. Drews, Adrian Beltres and Carlos Beltrans of the world have been laughing all the way to the bank while not really living up to expectations, or their contracts. So it seems that Zito may just be another chapter in this ongoing saga of moral quandaries teams face when dealing with the Devil. I wonder if Boras represents Chinese speaking white dudes with an affinity for Asian antiquities?
On a lighter note, to quell the idea that I am a blatant misogynist proposed by a recent nameless commenter on a previous post, let me just say that, for me, it was hard not to notice that Zito’s troubles started shortly after his frolic with Lizzie McGuire. I’m a guy. I analyze. That’s what I do. And, generally speaking, I’m arrogant, but not rude. I love my mother and enjoy spraying women’s perfume in department stores when no one is looking. So sue me.
To prove that I am indeed a fun-filled philogynist at heart, I have included some lovely pictures of Barry’s most famously attractive paramours. It’s hard to argue with beauty — or attitude.
While it’s great fun and all, looking at these pretty ladies forces me to face a moral quandary of my own; therefore, I will say goodbye, for now, so I can come to terms with the situation. In the meantime, please don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
How many other 28 year-old pitching stars would waive their first two years of free agency eligibility during the prime of their lives? How many other stars would take less money than they know they’ll be offered down the road in order to stay in the city, with the team, that they love? That’s exactly what Adam Wainwright did in signing his new four-year contract with the St. Louis Cardinals Thursday. The current cornerstone of the Cardinals pitching staff and phenom stopper during the Redbirds’ 2006 World Series Championship run is proof that ballplayers who are humble and realize just how lucky they are to be playing baseball for a living really do exist.
"I get to do it in St. Louis, where the fans are the greatest in the
game, and I love the city and my wife loves the city, and that’s what’s
most important to us," he said. "We’re going to be there for,
hopefully, a long, long time, and a long time after this contract. My
wife is very, very excited about this deal, and I look forward to
raising our daughter there. It’s just a great situation for both
parties, I think."
Now don’t get me wrong. I am not one to say that ballplayers should be making less money. Not at all. I think they do deserve what they’re worth in regards to the overall revenues of the game and I think baseball is much better off with free agency. But it’s just nice to know that some players are satisfied with 2 million a year as opposed to 22 million.
And believe me, Adam is getting paid. He won’t be making a salt miner’s salary, that’s for sure. But if he just held out for two more years it’s almost guaranteed that he’d be getting big bank offers for his services, probably from teams like the Evil Empire.
Waino likes the Cardinals organization. He likes St. Louis. His wife likes St. Louis, too. He actually consulted his wife! Wow! What a guy! I won’t go as far as my sister has and declare that he is the most attractive man in baseball, but I will give him mad props (*cliche warning) for being a breath of fresh air.
Speaking of mad props, I want to take a second and commend some of the superior blogging going on at MLB by everyday joes like myself. These fellas continue to draw me in with their superior reporting/pontificating/lampooning: Cardinals Kingdom, by Brady, is a must for Redbirds fans, especially those interested in minor league developments. Paul at Prince of New York repeatedly impresses with his unique insight and well-researched ideas that tackle all angles of the game (buy his book here). And Matt at Diamondhacks is witty, funny, edgy, brave and downright hilarious with his atypical style of genius. I read these every day. You should too.
And please don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Exit boyhood hero. Roger,
you had it all. You were a Yankee and I liked you. Really. In my book, you were one of four Yankess I’d
always revere despite the pinstripes. I even
kept myself from cursing you when you became an Astro—a rare feat indeed. Yes, I smiled when you’d challenge guys high and
tight, when you’d buckle ‘em with your splitter. You were an icon who wooed me in 1986 when you
struck out all those Mariners, including Phil Bradley, my Uncle Dave’s friend
and confidant. You made me turn on Phil, man.
And I never looked back, Roger. I never looked back, until yesterday. I looked back and I thought, gee, all these
politicians are getting together over this? Isn’t there something better they could be
doing, like giving me a larger tax rebate so I can finally pay off the Chinese
mob and get on with my life? Then I
heard you speak and I thought, Roger, you really should take a page out of
McGuire’s book: “I am not here to talk about the past.” Done. Over. Move on. Because if you’d just shut up, and get on
with your life, and go watch your kids play ball in Texas, Roger, we’d all
forgive you and forget about it just like we have with all the rest (except for
Palmeiro who I consider the poster-child of douchebags). That’s true, Roger. Very true. We’re all human. We make dumb
decisions sometimes. Yes, you are the
Rocket but you’re no exception. You
screwed up. And now you’re wasting our
time. You have the audacity to think you
can lie to us and get away with it. Well, your time is running out. That little boy you swooned with your fastball is all grown up now, and he knows better.
Enter manhood hero:
Peace and "Yes, We Can."