Tagged: Yadier Molina

A 47 Percent Rant

My dubious and oft out of touch with the public colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, shocked the baseball-politico world on Monday when he compared his beloved Detroit Tigers to the stiff stylings of Mitt Romney.  Now, lining one’s self up with the far right fed Tea Party and Christian Coalition is one thing, but talking out of one’s posterior in a public forum is another.

Mr. Krause said:

The Cardinals are playing with a ragtag team and no longer have master strategist La Russa at the reigns.

Um… what?

Ragtag?  RAG?  TAG?

What’s so ragtag about being World Champions?  What’s ragtag about Holliday?  Freese?  Molina?

RAGTAG?!?!

WTF?

Carlos Beltran?  Allen Craig?  Chris Carpenter?

WHAT IS THIS RAGTAG YOU SPEAK OF, MR. KRAUSE?!?

The only thing “ragtag” about your REIGNING… WORLD… CHAMPIONS… is that they might play this before each game:

Oh, wait.  That’s ragTIME.

Like it’s time to grab a rag and wipe up the locquacious mess left by my colleague.

Hate me ‘cuz you can, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

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Some Happy for Yer Friday

As we enter the beginning of the most exciting time of year (baseball playoffs and football season and an election, oh my!), I think it’s important that we keep in perspective that which brings us the most joy.  Sure, hosting a Guinness keg party while dressed in my Yadier Molina jersey flanked by the Shannon twins is pretty much the happiest day of my life (that hasn’t happened yet but might), I still know that even if all that other stuff falls through, I will always have baseball.

And sometimes, within the game of baseball, we can find something much simpler that pushes the happy button.  I know a lot of folks have been wrapped up in the admirable and impressive play of Mike Trout.  People are just as infatuated with his grace and dominance as I was am infatuated with Stephen Strasburg and all things Strasmas.  It’s the little injections of youthful awesomesauce that often remind us why we love baseball so much.  It is a kid’s game after all.

But sometimes waiting for the next big thing isn’t necessary.  I have found that out this year by following Coco Crisp very closely.  My history with Crisp has been one of hilarity, peppered with some dazzle.  And while his offensive numbers may not hypnotize scouts, enough can never be said about how he plays the game.

He plays hard.  He plays to win.  He’s in on every pitch and he goes balls-to-the-wall.  In fact, I have gotten to the point where I’m watching replays of his relay throws and conducting frame-by-frame analysis on his routes to fly balls.

If I could get to Oakland, I’d rather watch Crisp long-toss than Cesepedes take BP.

Okay, so maybe I’m lyin’ a little bit in that last sentence, but one thing is for certain: Coco Crisp’s defensive play is worth focusing on and if you focus long enough, you’re probably going to see something that puts a smile on your face.  Maybe even an afro.

Happy Friday!

Jeff

Harrison v. Molina: Not Exactly What You Think

I’ve watched the play about a 100 times now — each time the pain rings out through my own body, more and more.  I’ve often heard about mothers feeling their children’s’ pain — lovers experiencing each others’ physical ailments.

This is what that must feel like.

Watching Yadier Molina get crushed is something I will never be able to fully accept.  But I’ve watched it over and over and I really do think Josh Harrison had no other choice.  Yadi did his job.  He took away the plate.  The only way Harrison had a shot was to go under, over or through Yadi.

Yadi’s a beast.  Over and under were not plausible options.  Harrison’s only choice was to barrel through.

That’s baseball.

It sucks to watch your man-crush get pummeled, but I watched Mickey Ward get destroyed once too, and he came back like the champ that he was.

Yadi will be back too.

So please, don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

One Day to Unite Them All!

It’s Opening Day, y’all!!!  HOLLLLLLLLAAAAAA!!!

When it comes to my favorite holidays there is, of course, April Fool’s Day, National Cleavage Day and My Bent and Oft Hoodwinked Colleague Gets PWNED by a Commenter Day.

But nothing — I repeat: NO-THING beats Opening Day.

To celebrate, I give you DRUNK Rick Sutcliffe:

Now, if we could just get a Play Tennis In Your Underwear Day.

Happy Opening Day and Let’s Go Cards!

Jeff

Three Up, Three Down

Just like A.J. Burnett in a Pirates uni, this is going to be ugly, moan-inducing and might even warrant a trip straight to the DL.

New MLB Playoff Format

In short, I like it.  It emphasizes winning the division, makes trade deadline trades more suspect and guarantees drama as we enter the postseason.  The only thing I can think of that would make this arrangement better is to skip the one game playoff and force each wild card team’s manager to do a keg stand before engaging in a last-man-standing no-holds-barred boxing tournament.  My money is on Ron Washington.  Cocaine makes ya crrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaazzzyyy!

Bigots Leading the Republican Party

Whether it’s the Pennsylvanian Taliban or the Ditto Führer of Ignorance himself , I’m getting quite tired of seeing Abe Lincoln’s party fall victim to mass idiocy.  But I found something that will really cause ’em to scratch their heads:

Yadier Molina: Five More Years

Halle-FRACKIN-lujah!!!  Seriously, I cannot even begin to tell you how happy this makes me.  To those outside of the St. Louis Cardinals family, such jubliation may not seem warranted, but let me assure you: this is a grand, grand deal for all involved.  Say what you will about Albert’s tenure, Yadier Molina is the absolute heart and soul of the St. Louis Cardinals.  And everyone’s happy now.  Yadi’s happy.  Front office is happy.  The fans are happy.

Happy Saturday!

Jeff

Et Tu, Molina? (Pars Duo)

A few years ago I wrote a cautionary piece foretelling the eventual departure of one Yadier Molina — SUPREME JEFFY MANCRUSH — if the Cardinals somehow didn’t resign Albert Pujols to a long, career stabilizing contract.  I wrote it flippantly, thinking this will never happen in real life.

And then real life hit.

Albert Pujols is gone and Yadi doesn’t seem to be as in love with the Cardinals as the Cardinals faithful are in love with him:

“I love the city. I love the fans, I love the park. But it’s out of my hands. Whatever they like to do is how it is … They let Albert [Pujols] go. It’s business for the team, too. It’s out of my hands.” (source)

Um… wrong.  One, dearest Yadier, it most certainly IS in your hands.  And two, the Cardinals DID NOT “let Albert go.”  They made him a very good offer, one that would most likely highjack the team for the latter half of this decade, one that would have made Albert a very, very, VERY rich man.

And he declined.

For more money.

I don’t have a problem with millionaire ballplayers chasing the money — but I do have a problem with framing the situation in a salacious manner.  To say the Cardinals did not put any effort in retaining Mr. Pujols’ services is as reckless as it is inaccurate.

Here at RSBS, it is no secret that Yadier is my most beloved Cardinal.  The St. Louis brass would be wise to pay the man whatever he wants, and I would applaud their efforts to do so.

But if I’ve learned anything about professional sports the last few months it’s that I’ve been clinging to the delusion that athletes give a f*** about the “home team”, about creating a “legacy”, about “loyalty”.

It’s about money and it will always be about money.  I’m okay with that now.

If the Cardinals do the right thing and throw bank at Molina to keep him, then I’ll be ecstatic.  But I also live in reality these days, so I’m fully prepared to see him in a Halos jersey in 2013.

Hate me.  Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff