Roger Clemens is not guilty.
Can this be over now?
Of course it can’t. It never will. For now until the end of time we’ll still be talking about the steroid era and those who made it infamous. Clemens is just one of many.
Still, I think it is safe to say his role in the overall picture of the steroid era is a bit larger than the rest. He’s up there alongside Barry, considering his Hall of Fame credentials and repugnant personality.
Before any of this steroid silliness was known, I loved Roger Clemens. He was a beast on the mound — a Nolan Ryan/Bob Gibson throwback. Proud, nasty, BALLSY.
But the Mitchell Report tainted his reputation, whether guilty or not, and Roger then ruined it further himself by being an outspokenly whiny ass. I understand the potential frustration that could come from having a tarnished reputation, but there are ways to handle adversity with class and there are ways to handle it like a jerk.
Clemens took the jerk route.
And undoing what ya done ain’t easily done.
Hate me ‘cuz you can, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Simplistic campaigns to hunt down public enemies (like Kony 2012) are all the rage these days. When will you all be launching Selig 2012?
It is no secret that the authors of these pages hold no love for the staunch bureaucratic policies and seemingly never-ending reign of King Bud the Nosepicker. Indeed, we’ve ripped the man’s decisions in every which way and have even gone as far as to say that George W. Bush would make a perfect Commissioner in comparison (no joke here, we really do think Dubya would be perfect for the job). But to compare Bud Selig to the heartless, maniacal, baby-raping mass murderer Joseph Kony? Um… that’s a bit much.
But just a bit.
The good news is, people are getting educated on Kony’s crimes. And they’re doing something about it (unless *this* derails it). However, when it comes to the tyranny of King Bud, we already know about the bevy of shenanigans. There’s just nothing we can do about it.
If I may break from the usual ‘ol crotchety me for a moment, I would like to point out that, in my opinion, the overall state of our national pastime is as good now as it’s ever been. Seriously. If you turn your head from the silliness that is King Bud’s All-Star Game, and if make yourself forget about that whole Ryan Braun cheating thing, and pretend like the overall muscle bulge of the 90s and early aughts was caused by “supplements” that can easily be purchased at your local GNC, then you might conclude that, indeed, baseball’s vibe is very good right now.
The networks are fighting to get in on the expanded playoffs. Parity is slowly squeezing its way into all divisions. And the Pirates still suck!
More than that, people are still paying money to watch Adam Dunn play. Erin Andrews is still showing up in dugouts. And Tampa Bay seems to be in the playoff picture every year now, despite the fact that no one in Tampa Bay seems to care.
But most importantly of all, the St. Louis Cardinals are World Champs!
So for now, I can take a couple more years of bassackwards politickin’ from the usurping Milwaukee millionaire.
But I swear, Brad, if he reigns for more than two more years, you, me, Mr. Krause and the entire baseball universe are taking to the streets with Louisville Sluggers and Molotov cocktails (not to be confused with pet names for Kevin Millar).
Hate me. I don’t care. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
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In an election year, it should be no surprise that we US Americans are being bombarded with a barrage of twisty little lies. Whether it’s the Obama camp’s magical math making unemployment numbers “plummet” or Rick Santorum and his imaginary friend pretending that the whole American Revolution and subsequent Constitution thingy isn’t really what it seems, we cannot escape the onslaught of fibbery.
But such fibbery is expected from the political lot. It is when such vitriol enters the baseball universe that I get extremely pissy.
“We were able to get through this because I am innocent and the truth is on our side.”
— Ryan Braun
Um… no. You were able to get through this ‘cuz you’re a multi-millionaire with legit counsel and a Mark Fuhrman wannabe handling your bodily fluids under the direction of King Bud. Exoneration in this case does not equal innocence, Mr. Braun. It merely suggests there is reasonable doubt. You still got more testosterone in you than Kim Kardashian at the NBA All-Star Game. And it seems just as… icky.
“My loyalty is here (Texas). This is where I’ve been, this is where my family has been. I would love to be here.”
— Josh Hamilton
Now I don’t want to go picking on Josh Hamilton because he’s not very bright, but I do want to pick on him for spittin’ the same stupid lie as every other potential free agent baseballer lookin’ to get paid: ENOUGH ALREADY. “My loyalty is here”… pshh. PLEASE. Your loyalty is wherever they pay you the most. That’s how it works and we all know it. Your family is not going to have too much of a problem moving to a different city to chase that pay-puh. Determine who will give you the most money with the most years and that’s where you’ll go. To say anything different is a slap in the face of cold, hard fact. I’m an adult. I can handle the truth. Maybe.
“The guy (Alfonso Soriano) works his butt off all the time.”
— Dale Sveum, Cubs Manager
Okay, Dale. I’m gonna help you out with this one. YOU NEED SOME NEW GLASSES, BRO. See, I’ve been following Sori’s career since he was a young pup. And from New York to Texas to D.C. to the Chi, Alfonso Soriano is THE LAST PERSON ON THE PLANET I would say “works his butt off all the time.” ESPECIALLY while in Chicago. In fact, there is an entire faction of Cubs fans who want him crucified! They wouldn’t flinch an inch if Sori ceased manning left field tomorrow. Forever. For good. Why, Mr. Sveum? Because Alfonso Soriano is the absolute KING of lollygagging. His defense is atrocious and he is NOTORIOUS for gazing at might-be homeruns that are actually doubles that drop in for long singles because he doesn’t hustle out of the box.
If you’re here to fix the Cubs, Mr. Sveum, you might want to know what they’ve been used to the last 103 years: PAIN. SUFFERING. AGONIZING PAIN AND SUFFFFFFFFEEEEERRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING.
Hate me. Fine. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Would you, MLB? Would you hurry up and tell me what to think about the Ryan Braun situation so I can properly compartmentalize my NL Central adversaries? I need to know if I should hate Ryan Braun or if I should just respectfully dislike him. And I need to know NOW.
When this story broke in early December, I immediately paused 30 Rock on the Netflix stream so I could specifically call my friend, Mr. Mahmud, and mutually gloat in the complete downfall or our fellow divisional foe. Ha ha ha, Prince is gone and now Braun is a fraud… fa la la la la… THE END.
Or so I thought.
I mean, this is the post-steroid era in baseball, right? You get caught with a dirty test, your name is mud. You’re a cheat. An A-Fraud for life.
Unless of course, you’re a likable, attractive white man who plays in a market tailored towards good, wholesome folk. At least, that’s how it seems.
I understand there are some strange circumstances regarding Mr. Braun’s positive performance enhancing drug test, specifically, that there aren’t any “performance enhancing drugs” present, but rather TWICE the normal testosterone levels, which would lead one to believe that such an oddity might be the result of treating a “personal medical problem” (how ’bout I just come out and say it: SEXUALLY TRANSMITTED DISEASE).
My reaction to that is: okay, so what? If dude is TWICE the man everyone else is, of course that would effect his performance, right? And to say he didn’t know what he was being medicated with is no excuse. This is the 21st century. He has every doctor, nutritionist, trainer, coach, jedi master, etc. at his side to advise him on these issues. Don’t take this, Ryan, or else it will RUIN YOUR CAREER.
Then again, maybe Braun just gets a pass because he is a cool dude. People like him. He plays in a small market and he’s white. I guess that makes it all okay.
Either way, I want an answer and I want it now.
Hate me. I don’t care. 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…
The RSBS crew celebrates its 30th episode by taking a stroll down podcast memory lane, remembering things that busted our (and hopefully your) guts. AIDS salad and Ron Santo’s memory get rehashed while new memories (like gay ponies v. horsicorns, an iguana named Dudley and how you can cure your foot problems) are created! Jump on board the RSBS crazy train! No stops til you question how you spend your free time!
Don’t forget to getcho Crown Royal and enjoy some happy time!
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Recorded Saturday, November 26, 2011
Earlier this week, when asked about his role as set-up man to John Axford on a playoff-bound Brewers club, the manic and pock-marked hot head had this to say:
“There’s been plenty of save opportunities, and I’ve pitched once in the ninth inning and it wasn’t a save. I’m not happy. That’s the bottom line for me.”
Whaa whaa whaa. Cry me a river, you big, overpaid, underachieving man-baby.
You see, dear readers, K-Rod is what we nowadays call a “stat-whore” — an obvious “save” chaser, a child more concerned about his “legacy” than the overall well-being of his team. And apparently, winning means nothing to him. Being successful means nothing to him. If it did, he’d keep his mouth shut. Instead, he’s yapping about how rough he has it while presumably yearning for a return to that moribund, going-nowhere New York Mets club.
Are we, US Americans, responsible for this man-childish behavior? Probably. To be fair, we are the ones who tune in to train wrecks like The Jersey Shore. We are the ones who judge people based on appearances. We are the ones who look the other way while skinny little Brady Anderson racks up 50 bombs.
Will it ever end? Probably not. But being aware is being alive, which is good news for you and me.
And K-Rod? Well, he is just another one of the walking dead.
PS. Aside from being a big baby, K-Rod is also the poster child against extreme, high definition close-ups. I mean, seriously, there is no reason for a grown man to have that much acne. Unless…