The July 31st trade deadline isn’t getting any further away yet the St. Louis Cardinals front office, led by GM John Mozeliak, seems content with not trying to get better for a possible playoff push. Apparently, Mozeliak, who is beginning to remind us of a certain head of state stubborn enough to believe his own methods of irresponsibility and subtle lunacy will actually work despite the entire planet’s discouragement, is quite okay with sitting back and letting fate (or the lack thereof) decide the ballclub’s competitive future.
In case you weren’t watching that god-awful series against the Brewers last week, Mr. Mozeliak, the Cardinals desperately need bullpen reinforcements. DESPERATELY. Pull the trigger. Go out and get a guy who can hold a lead in the late innings. Do something — anything — that will prove to Cardinals fans that you actually care. We US Americans can no longer accept the fact that the Cubs, Brewers, Yankees, even the Astros, are spending a little bit of money, going out and getting all the pieces they need to make it to the post season.
And now that Izzy has been given the closer duties — again — our best bet is to have at least a 9-run lead going into the final innings of the game. The Cardinals bullpen has already given me a serious heart condition and as I have said before, watching them in save situations makes me extremely uncomfortable.
As uncomfortable as you’ll feel watching this:
Yes, that really happened.
Yes, Corey Feldman really takes himself seriously.
And yes, it’s hard to feel more uncomfortable than that… though the Cardinals brass, with their non-existent attempts at making a deal, are trying their very hardest to best it.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Since I never seem to find myself in a place that my hometown (from across the state) Tigers like to visit, I’m usually limited to one or two live games in a year. This year, I only had one chance and that day was last Saturday as Detroit visited Baltimore for what promised to be an easy four-game series. Well, let’s just say that neither the game nor the series went the way they were supposed to go. The Tigers hammered Daniel Cabrera in the first inning but then managed to not only let the Orioles back into the game but even found a way to lose it. And they dropped 2 of the four games. So, I’m not writing about the game or the series. I’m writing about what I saw at the game instead.
First off, If you’ve never been to Camden Yards, go. The tickets are cheap, the views are great and chances are that if you came to watch another team play the Orioles, you’re going to go home happy. However, I have a bone to pick with the management. Why can’t I buy a beer in a souvenir cup? I don’t want a Pepsi. I don’t want a Diet Pepsi. I want a beer and I want it in a plastic cup that has the Oriole’s season schedule and whatever happens to be the catch-phrase of the year on it. I do this everywhere I go and up til now it hasn’t been a problem. Personally, I’m a huge fan of the cup I got from Yankee Stadium because I can spit sunflower seed husks into it and it feels like I’m somehow spitting on the Yankees. That’s a good feeling. But how can I spit on the Orioles if they won’t give me a cup? Yes, I finally broke down and bought a lemonade because it was really freakin’ hot but a part of me is still outraged. It’s un-American.
And speaking of un-American, the Orioles tossed out a special welcome to the Venezuelan Embassy, employees of which happened to be in attendance at Saturday’s game. I suppose this shouldn’t have come as a surprise since half the players on the field had some sort of Venezuelan connection and we were only an hour’s drive from Washington D.C. And it was nice to see some of the Venezuelan players come through during the game; for instance, Miguel Cabrera hit a three-run shot in the first inning. But there’s just something a little strange about a group of people enjoying the classic American pastime while their president says things like: “I hereby accuse the North American empire of being the biggest menace to our planet.” I’m just saying…
But, despite the unfortunate ending to the game, the crowd’s even more unfortunate adoration of “the wave” and the disproportionately large and drunk meat-head a few rows in front of me, it was good to see my team play. It gives you a similar kind of feeling to the one you get when you find out that the blog you (kind of) help write has now moved up from fifth to fourth place in the standings. At this rate, we might even make the playoffs! There are playoffs, right?