Tuesday, March 31, 2009

7 Days, 7 Years: 2003

That's right, assholes, only 7 days left until winter officially ends and God returns to us the smell of freshly cut grass, pine tar, steroid allegations and wintergreen skoal. So, in honor of this divine festival of baseball, day-drinking and tears of joy, we will be counting down the top pitching performances from the past 7 seasons, starting with 2002, and ending with 2008. Feel free to disagree in the comments. Or short walk, long pier. Either way, it's time to rejoice.

2003 - Mark Prior, Chicago Cubs

Stats: 18-6, 2.43 ERA, 245 K's, 3rd in National League Cy Young Award Voting

There is no doubt that in roughly five years, people will begin to forget the legend that was Mark Prior. And why shouldn't they? They man hasn't pitched since 2006, and has had more surgeries than Mike Hampton and former battery-mate Kerry Wood combined (see here for the full list). But for one season, he was the face of MLB's next generation of Aces.

In 2003, at a very green 22 years old, Prior stepped into the Cubs rotation and immediately became the most-dominate pitcher on staff. He mixed a mid-90's fastball - which had more movement than Tony LaRussa's bladder after a chugging contest - and a plus curve ball with some serious break. He baffled veterans. Made other young ones look stupid, and cruised through the regular season.

In 30 starts, he let up more than 4 earned runs twice. He struck out 245 batters in 211 innings, pitched 3 complete games, and after missing 3 starts in July, came back to go 10-1 with a 1.52 ERA and 95 K's in 82.2 IP in August and September. Dominance. He finished his first postseason with a 2.31 ERA and 18 K's in 23 innings. If the Bartman saga never happened, who knows what could have been?

Now, we all know the sob story that followed Dusty Baker's innings abuse with Prior - injuries, then more injuries, then more injuries, then a move to San Diego, then another injury...

Is it safe to say that Prior can be counted out? It seems that way. While he may eventually make a comeback, he'll never match the numbers he posted in 2003.

Gary Sheffield - All the Way Fired

In the first bold move to come out of the Motor City since the discontinuation of the Ford Taurus, the Tigers released DH Gary Sheffield. With government bailouts flowing like the boxed wine and divorcee rally, the Tigers figured that things couldn't get much worse, and decided to eat the remaining $14 Million left on Sheffield's contract.

On the other end of the twisted spectrum is the Sheff, who's 1 home run shy of 500, and will probably succumb to his internal rage and end up strangling some innocent street-walker tonight.

Personally, I think it stems from the loss of street-credit Sheff took when that gangly doofus Fausto Carmona handed him a custom ass-whip last September, because what purpose does an over-the-hill slugger with fading skills serve other than being a menace to opposing pitchers?

Regardless, let me be the first to say, sayonara, asshole!

Monday, March 30, 2009

7 Days, 7 Years: 2002

That's right, assholes, only 7 days left until winter officially ends and God returns to us the smell of freshly cut grass, pine tar, steroid allegations and wintergreen skoal. So, in honor of this divine festival of baseball, day-drinking and tears of joy, we will be counting down the top pitching perfromances from the past 7 seasons, starting with 2002, and ending with 2008. Feel free to diagree in the comments. Or short walk, long pier. Either way, it's time to rejoice.

2002 - Pedro Martinez, Boston Red Sox

Stats: 20-4, 2.26 ERA, 239 K's, 2nd in American League Cy Young Voting

This was the last year of vintage Pedro. Not merely dominate Pedro - but vintage, shit-your-pants when you stand in the box against him, Pedro. To fully understand just how good he was in 2002, you need to look past the box score, and examine the secondary stats that make you wish your team traded for him back in 1997 *cough, cough Yankees*.

His WHIP was a gaunt 0.92, and after a terrible opening day - he let up 7 runs in 3 innings to the Blue Jays - he never let up more than 4 earned runs. 18 of his 30 starts in '02 included at least 8 K's. Batters batted a paultry .198 against him, unbiased on both sides of the plate: .191 against righties, .202 against lefties. After the All-Star break, Pedro's statline went like this: 12 GS, 83 IP, 98 K's, 1.61 ERA, .189 BA.

During this year of binge-drinking and sleeping until dark, nobody hated Pedro more than me. And, unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to appreciate his domination, simply because I was too busy both hoping he would get kidnapped by some crazy Yankees fans, and constructing numerous voodoo dolls that had creepy pimp mustaches and the budding sprouts of a disgusting jheri-curl. The pin-pricking may have worked on his Cy Young chances - he somehow lost to slow-pitch lefty Barry Zito - but it did not negate the fact that he added another year to his Hall of Fame career.

Damn you dark forces!

And The Winner Is...

At least he's better than Melky Cabrera's apathetic attitude toward anything that doesn't include the words "Robbie" and "Cano", right? Right?

Fuck it. At least he's cheap...

Indians Fans Are Easily Confused

When any player who's in the spotlight loses a bit of pop off his bat, the media caws "steroids". It doesn't matter if the guy just got back from season-ending elbow surgery, if his bat does not immediately return to mid-season form, he's a cheater and he deserves to die alone in a desert.

But not Travis Hafner. No, people in the Midwest are waaaaaaay too naive to think this guy never had his hands in the corroded pot of steroids. It's the same ignorant route they take with their diets - keep eating double-fried chocolate fried sugar balls wrapped in fried buttered sausage bacon. The more you fry it, they healthier it becomes.

How can any rational person not link Pronk to steroids? He went from a oft-traveled minor-leaguer, to power-hitter, to devastating power-hitter, to top-5 most feared power hitter, to injured, to scrub, to re-injured. And now he's got nothing - barely able to put any sauce on batting practice balls. Maybe it's time we start wagging our fingers elsewhere - maybe somewhere else than New York. Besides, at least Hafner didn't take pictures of himself wearing knee-high socks and sweatpants like some kind of softball league lecher...

Friday, March 27, 2009

The Fantasy Non-Guru

I'll be the first to admit that historically, I've been a failure at fantasy sports. If fantasy sports were revered by the community and not just a select few of nerds and gambling addicts, I'd be shunned like an ancient Japanese boy refusing the way of the Shogun.

But it's not. And with each passing year and each passing draft, I garner hope. Yes, me, the cynical son, has the ability to wrap his arms around a ray of light and hold on for dear life. And yes, I've done it again.

This year, I went into the draft with a new philosophy - no over-thinking. Is this the best route to take? Probably not. But fuck it - a new strategy may be the key to silencing the critics who have labeled me a fantasy bust.

Anyone looking for fantasy insight or analysis, skip this article - it's purely self-absorption. If you want to read how my first draft went and laugh at my shortcomings - read on.

I had the 6th pick overall. The league is head-to-head. Let the nerdiness commence.

Round 1: Miguel Cabrera - 1B/3B
If history repeats itself, I will have successful ruined another fantasy stud. If not, I hope Miggy can repeat last years rake-fest.

Round 2: Carlos Beltran - OF
Meh. I balked on Lance Berkman, as I do every year, and when he's hitting .330 in July, I will trade a load for him, only to watch his statistics decline the rest of the season. Mix, stir, repeat.

Round 3: Kevin Youkilis - 3B/1B
My arch-nemesis. But look at this way - if he gets hurt or begins to suck, my jinx will work. If he performs well, hooray for my team. Believe it or not, since I care more about real-life baseball than fantasy baseball, I pulling for the former.

Round 4: Roy Halladay - SP
I swore off pitchers until at least this round. When I saw Halladay sitting there, I had to grab him. I wanted an anchor, and he's an anchor. Unfortunately his team's offense is as potent as a Fausto Carmona rabbit-punch, so this may end up being a real waste.

Round 5: Matt Kemp - OF
My theory is production over potential. Kemp is young, and has the ability to become a star. Adhering to my own babbling bullshit is obviously something I'm not very good at.

Round 6: Alex Rios - OF
I had him last year, and besides stealing a bunch of bases, he underachieved. So what do I do? Draft him again! It could work, right? Right? Oh well...I suck.

Round 7: Francisco Liriano - SP
I did not over-think this pick. But I probably should have.

Round 8: Jhonny Peralta - SS
This was purely a need pick, but I got the best offensive AL shortstop from 2008.

Round 9: Joakim Soria - RP
Soria is nasty, but his whole statistical year depends on the Royals offensive producing, which is sort of like dating a fat girl with a nice face in hopes that she sheds a ton (no pun - WUCKA WUCKA) of weight.

Round 10: Chris Ianetta - C
I have no clue. It happened so quick, next thing I knew, we were in round 11...

Round 11: Joey Votto - 1B/Util
Another guy I'm banking on to have a big season. I did the same thing with Alex Gordon 2 years ago, and look how that turned out! Again, I can't say this enough - I suck.

Round 12: B.J. Ryan - RP
My top two closers are on Kansas City and Toronto. Wow. Just, wow.

Round 13: Josh Johnson - SP
When the Marlins are competing for 1st place this summer, Johnson will be the main part of it. Oh, and that guy Hanley. But Johnson, mostly.

Round 14: Howie Kendrick - 2B
He's averaged 84 games a season over his three years with the Angels. Awful, awful, awful, AWFUL pick. Loosening the wheels now.

Round 15: Pat Burrell - OF
He still has power, and he may suffer from leaving that Little League Field in Philly, but he'll still have good protection i nthe lineup. Hopefully he doesn't catch the clap from some Florida white-trash.

Round 16: Clayton Kershaw - SP
Innings limit aside, he could end up as the Ace in Dodgertown.

Last 4 Rounds:
- Randy Johnson - SP
- Huston Street - RP
- Jose Lopez - 2B
- Shin-Soo Choo - OF

Choo is a sleeper, Randy can still throw, Lopez is already starting over Kendrick on my team and Street is competing for the closer position after giving up 7 runs in 8 innings this spring, meaning I'll drop him, then he'll turn lights-out, and I'll ram my head through some dry-wall.

There are 9 days left until the regular season begins. God has shown us the light. My fantasy team? Not so much...

That's Why You Sign an "Ace"

In an extremely melodramatic move, The Yankees announced that CC Sabathia will take the hill on Opening Day 2009 in Baltimore.

Also on the agenda, Michael Kay will spend at least 2+ hours fawning over everything that is A-Rod, John Sterling will perpetually botch each of his nicknaming attempts for the 300 lb behemoth, Johnny Damon will tear some back muscles, A.J. Burnett will report elbow pain, Derek Jeter will talk about what an honor it is to be playing another season, Hideki Matsui will rake 13 doubles even though his knee is filled with lime jello, Mariano Rivera will expose his rapidly receding hairline, and this guy right here will drink too much and call the waitress an "asshole" for mixing up my choice of light beers. I DEMAND YOU SERVE ME THE CORRECT WATER-FLAVORED BEER!

All will go as planned. See you then.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Neon Deion Wants to Teach You How to Stay in Shape



*Still Laughing*

In what is being called a monumentally insignificant move in the world of offseason fitness training and professional guidance, California based Complete Athlete has teamed up with Deion Sanders' program Jheri-Curled Cocksucker L.C. PrimeTimePlayer to increase the size and versatility of their program. The statement also says that Deion is being hired to help softball (yes, softball) and baseball players more visibly amongst college and pro scouts.

One can assume that Deion will be teaching them how to act like selfish assholes, make awful rap videos about Jesus, and subdue opponents with career ending knee injuries because he is too much of a coward to tackle.

If Complete Athletes' program is about staying healthy and playing hard, why in God's Holy-Fucking-Green-Earth would they want Deion Sanders involved? He invented taking plays off. He invented being lazy. He invented the body-throw to stop offensive players. And although he didn't invent the self-absorbed athlete - he did refine it.

Complete Athlete - where athletes go to learn how to be bad teammates and clubhouse cancers!

God's Gift to Mankind: Reggie Who?

What's this I hear - the media expects me to be the second-coming of Reggie Jackson in pinstripes? Hmm, I find this both perplexing and arousing. Perplexing because I taught Jackson everything he knows, and arousing because while I'm busy being perplexed, I'm also gazing in the mirror at the most chiseled set of abdominal muscles I've ever seen. Just look at them - you could cook a 22 oz. porterhouse on these bad boys!

(crowd takes 5,000 pictures of flexed abs)

And don't they know Reggie Jackson's existence was based on mine? How is this possible, you ask? Because I'm older than the fucking sun, that's how. I travel through time like Dr. Manhattan, and show the same apathetic emotions toward anything and everything that does not involve the words: "sex", "Teixeira", "oral-sex", and "win".

Here are a few other legendary figures molded after my previous feets and accomplishments:

- Lee Marvin's manliness
- Frank Sinatra's voice
- The Porn Industry
- Fireworks
- Greek Mythology

So, next time you hear any members of the media questioning my ability to come into town as a high-priced free agent and deliver, remind them about the Alamo. That's right, the Alamo. Santa Anna? All me. All fucking me.

(kisses bicep)
(kisses other bicep)
(forges silver baseball bat out of discarded silverware)
(hits grand slam)

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

What Would Chad Curtis Do: Part V

After leaving the Yankees (and professional baseball altogether), Chad Curtis has plenty of free time on his hands. How do I know this? Well, low and behold, after I ran into him running a petty cab by Central Park, I learned the man still has those strong Christian opinions that really rubbed everyone the wrong way. While negotiating a fee with a customer, he weighed in on the World Baseball Classic situation, without any provocation from me.

The Quandary:

America, God's playground, lost to the Japanese in the Semifinals of the World Baseball Classic.

Chad's Take:

Some people - some of my good friends, actually - are dumbfounded by the outcome of Sunday Night's game. They say, *raises tone of voice* "Hey Chad, how can such a tender and loving and Christian God support those no-good Japs? He chose a bunch of Chinamen over the predominately white and superior team from the US of A? That's just baloney!"

And do you know how I respond?

First of all, I remind them to never, ever question God's decisions. Roger Clemens did that when God took the firmness from his wife's breasts, and where did that get him? Alex Rodriguez did the same thing after his postseason struggles in 2006, and God banished him from the church forever, and turned him into one of them damn gay lovers. Did you see those pictures of him in that devil rag magazine? Sweet Lord! I vomited on my wife's new rug when they flashed them on the television set. Seriously, just up and puked a mixture of lamb chops and pudding all over myself and the floor. Darn shame too, it was such a pleasant looking and unsoiled rug.

And secondly, I remind them that although the Japanese may have won the tournament, they're nothing but a bunch of godless savages who are damned to burn in hell for all of eternity and will be infinitely forced to serve Satan's brethren fruit bowls and juicy steaks and a variety of side-salads on platters made of fire and brimstone. And some of them will be forced to drive Satan's parents around in a Fiat Yugo. And some of them will be forced to play Satan in Trivial Pursuit every single night even though Satan cheats, and there's nothing that can be done to stop him from winning. How do I know this? Because the TV evangelist I sent $25K to told me so. And why would he lie? He already has my money.

After these points,they usually relax. Then we go out and lob rocks at abortion doctors and set fire to their clinics.

Re: Last Post

Aww, what's wrong little girl? Daddy had to get a 2nd job and STILL couldn't afford tickets to the game?

Following up on the previous post that touched on things involving the Yankees costing too much, I don't think I want to live in a world where the price of tickets to a baseball game has come to this:


"According to the Yankees' Web site, as of early evening tickets remained at $2,625 for the April 16 home opener against Cleveland, each with a $59.70 convenience charge.

Tickets are priced at $525, $625, $900, $1,050, $1,300 and $2,625 for the Legends seats ringing the infield, which include food and soft drinks. Other field level seats are $90, $125, $225, $250, $300 and $375.

Main level tickets go for $60, $80, $95 and $150, while the terrace level is $50, $75 and $85, grandstand $23 and $30, and bleachers $14.

Tickets for the Delta Sky 360 Suite* sell for $375-800 and the Jim Beam Suite* goes for $120-150 a seat." Courtesy ESPN.com's Spring Blog


I'm all for a free market where supply and demand dictate how much things cost, but there comes a point when you simply have to step back and ask yourself, "Am I really sitting in a seat that costs more than a month's rent in my shitty 1 BR apartment?"

Well...are ya?

*Side note - As the Yankee hating Mets fan that I am, I love how the boys in the Bronx took the "high road" on the stadium naming rights issue and kept the name of the new park Yankee Stadium. Apparently, they just slapped a corporate name on every other damn thing in the place. Delta Sky 360 Suite? Jim Beam Suite? Boy, I can't wait to take a piss in the Gold Bond Medicated Power Urinal in the upper deck!

Because Who Doesn't Have $1,000 to Spare?

Who says there's no money in garbage? There's plenty of it. Plenty, I tell you. Have you ever dug through a can on the corner of Lexington Avenue? It's like a fucking piggy bank.

The Yankees proved this theory true, yesterday, coming to terms on a $10M deal with the city to take down the old Yankee Stadium - *clears throat* the Cathedral of Baseball.

The Yankees are also taking their time in doing so, plucking valuable pieces of memorabilia as the tear apart "The House That Ruth Built". And if you're looking to get your pudgy little hands on a pair of seats, you better have $2K lying around. But who doesn't these days? The economy is booming, promotions are flying, and the world is bowing to the power of the dollar. So go on, you stingy bastard, blow your kid's college fund on a dozen seats from the Mezz. Hopefully they retain the smell of piss!

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

New Digs, Same Pr*ck Owner

For $634 Million, the Marlins have a plans for a new home. Sadly, Hanley Ramirez, Josh Johnson, Ricky Nolasco, Dan Uggla, Andrew Miller and Cameron Maybin will not be there to open up the new stadium. But owner Jeffrey Loria assures fans that top prospects from the Yankees, Tigers, Red Sox, Mets and Dodgers we be on hand by then, as Marlins, to see the ribbon cut.

The Kind You Can't Smoke

This may be the stupidest idea in history. If anyone goes out of their way to buy this, they should be forced to give up their jobs, home, and savings and sent to the same island that they took Andruw Jones to and stole away his talent for being a gluttonous pig.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Borderline Hall of Fame Pitcher Calls it Quits: Nobody Weeps

Will this be the end of Curt's idiotic, doltish and uninspired ranting? Does A-Rod enjoy the company of non-masculine looking women? Solve question #2 for the answer. And may God have mercy on us all...

Define "Market Value"

We've all been involved in a heated sports conversation with some dip-shit about the economic feasibility of baseball when they inevitably drop the old, "Nobody is worth $XX million to play a stupid game".

You will mostly hear this statement come from the mouth of an intellectual prick who has lots of flowing hair, sparkling teeth, and he's usually wearing a sweater that's worth more than a kilo of heroin. The proper response to this asinine remark is to bash him in the face with the leg of your chair or grab his head and push it through a plate-glass window. If neither of these are viable options, then ask him this: If you work for a company that survives heavily on your performance, then how can you not be worth a large chunk of that company's income?

As much as said douche may think his role as a fucking Wall Street Trader is important, he could fall off a cliff tomorrow, be replaced on Wednesday, and the machine will be back in full gear by Thursday, Friday the latest. But if CC Sabathia suddenly disappears, the Yankees will have a much, much tougher time replacing him. It's simple, really - these guys get paid millions of dollars to generate larger sums of millions of dollars. It's all relative.

Let's say you work for some internet advertising company. You get paid in the low six-figure range to sell online ad space. This is as far as your talents go. So, what makes you think you're worth anything more? The scale of revenue you drive for your company is relative to your salary. If you can sell out Yankee Stadium closing a deal with Proctor & Gamble, then maybe you should get a raise. But that whole, "it's just a game" bullshit, well, it runs deeper than that. The same thing goes for the old-timers who say they would've played for free. Not now, you wouldn't. When you realize your "company" is making millions off your face, your image, your jersey, your performance, why the fuck would you do it without serious compensation? In 1950, you could count the number of televised games on one hand. Now, there's a whole channel dedicated to it. Times change. People need to start getting over their haterism and understand that some player's salaries may seem astronomical, but when you sit back and take-in what the "company" is getting in return, it's peanuts. Or peanuts to the Steinbrenner's, at least. Don't believe that the Yankees need any taxpayers help - they don't. It's a ploy. And a smart ploy at that.

If you, Mr. Paul & Shark polo shirt wearing asshole, don't understand that there's more to the "game" in this day and age, then I'm not sure you should be making more than minimum wage. Sort of like an expendable player making the league minimum.

You see what I did there?

The Wheel in the Sky Keeps on Turning

Why A-Rod didn't solicit hookers the old-fashioned way - from his car, honking his horn, grabbing his junk, and making lewd references - is beyond me. But hey, since it worked out so well for the governor of New York, than it sure as hell should work out for A-Rod too.

So let's recap here, for those of you who are counting. He went from this, to this, to this, to this...a bitch, a stripper, a flake, a hooker...Wow. Just. Wow.

Just another day in sports fan purgatory.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Lenny Dykstra: Bigotry is Sweet

Nobody's ever confused Lenny Dykstra with a Harvard Grad student. Shit, I don't think anyone's ever confused Dykstra with a mildly retarded window washer. But throughout the sports world, Dykstra (up until right about...now) was revered for using a seemingly non-existent brain to build an investment empire and found an "athletes-only" magazine, making tons of cash for himself, and anyone willing to trust him in the process.

Well, that's just about over with...

The New York Post's Kevin Coughlin wrote an article about being a former Dykstra employee. Coughlin said Dykstra ragged on women, minorities and gays and used employees credit cards for his own expenses. Here's a nice blurb to get a taste:

Dykstra bragged about putting three black men and a woman (though he used words other than "black men" and "woman") on his first four covers -- Derek Jeter, Chris Paul, Tiger Woods and Danica Patrick -- and used a derogatory term for gay in the presence of a gay page designer, then later laughed it off.

I'm sure Dykstra has good reason for saying all this...

Actually no, I'm pretty sure he doesn't. When you pushing 50 years-old and still calling everyone "bro", you're bound to get yourself caught up in a scandal you can't juice your way out of. Yeah, I said it. Juice. Juice motherfucker! Juice!

And by the way - doesn't Nails know Derek Jeter isn't "all the way" black?

What the hell is an 'Astro', anyway?

Q: How do you know when you could be in store for a LONG season?

When your Grapefruit League record is 1 - 16 - 3, and that 1 win came in the very first game of Spring Training. They are win-less in their last 19 games! Uh Ohhhhhh...

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Far East Exposé

If you're anything like me - ignorant, surly, drunk - then you probably have the same view on Japanese baseball as me. I always *says in douchey voice* assumed that all Japanese were quiet, respectful, well-mannered and familiar with Karate. Well, sometimes you don't see the reversal coming until it's too late and your on your back being pummeled in the face by the girl you just poured your drink on...

After reading this article, I was sort of shocked. The Japanese are surly - just like me! In fact, they are fucking nuts, when you really break it down. Here are some things I bet you didn't know about Japanese baseball behavior, because you're too busy being culturally ignorant like me...

  • Japanese Managers often put their hands on umpires. And even after shoving or checking an ump, they sometimes stay in the game. Can you imagine Lou Pinella hip tossing the home plate ump and then making a pitching change?
  • The Japanese have a designated "cheering section", comprised of dozens of brain-numbing air horns and thumping bass drums. Sort of like a ride home on the 6 train, same volume, except less of that charming piss/shit/vomit smell.
  • American Tuffy Rhodes was 1 home run shy of tying Japanese legend Sadaharu Oh's home run record of 55. He was intentionally walked the rest of the season. Bud Selig should have taken note of this when Bonds was creeping in on Hank Aaron.

Enlightened? Shocked? Ashamed for not knowing any of this? Me neither. But I am glad to know that everything portrayed in "Mr. Baseball" was fairly accurate. I don't think I could take anymore falsity by Tom Selleck.

My 2009 MLB Wishlist

On my way to work today, as I was crossing 9th avenue, a saw something in the gutter. Normally, I'd just keep walking because that 'something' would be a person shouting obscenities at me if I even so much as crossed their field of vision, but this time it was a unusual twinkle that caught my eye. I walked over, bent down and picked up the curious item. It seemed foreign. It was obviously covered in 9th avenue filth, but the light from the new day's sun was being caught here and there and it appeared to have an unusual shine under all that grime. I gave it a bit of a rub and low and behold, out pops a genie!

And wouldn't you know it, after a few minutes of conversing I find out that he's not just any genie, he's a baseball genie! Will wonders ever cease?

Well, he granted me 3 wishes for the upcoming season and here they are, in no particular order:

  • Washington, Pittsburgh, San Diego or Seattle break the record for losses - We all know these teams were bad last year. In fact, they were horrible. I'd finally like to see a team so bad that they lose 121 games and let the 1962 expansion New York Mets off the hook as the team with the most regular season losses in the modern era.

  • KC Royals own the NY Yankees - We all know every year there is one shitty AL team that the Yankees just can't figure out how to beat. They try with all their money-fueled might but no matter who's on the mound or up at the plate, they just can't beat those pesky _______s. It used to be the Rays, but now they're nasty. I'd love for this void to be filled by the Royals. Not many things would give me as much pleasure as watching the fighting-to-reach-.500 Royals befuddle the Yanks and go 8-2 in the season series. Oh, I can hear Michael Kay now, "Boy, these Royals are FOR REAL. Just look how hard they play the Bombers. These aren't you're daddy's Royals, no sir. These Royals are here to stay, I mean, if you can beat the Yankees like they do and really play tough and grind out wins, you can just flat out play, blah, blah, blah..."

  • Wagner comes back to Mets 'pen in September - No one's talked about this much because the Mets got 2 new closers over the offseason, but it's not that far-fetched. He had Tommy John surgery in early September of '08, and as everyone knows, you're back in about 12 months after going under the knife. They even had to tell him to tone it down recently because he was on schedule to come back too fast and didn't want him to re-injure his arm. What do I want for Christmas in September/October if that's when Christmas was? Situational righty J.J. Putz and situational lefty Billy Wagner setting up closer Francisco Rodriguez. Please Santa, I've been a good boy.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Irrelevant Bracketology or Bust

"I masturbate to a Near-Mint 1966 Bob Gibson Topps Card."

Apparently Curt Schilling thinks he's clever. I wonder how that's working out for him?

Adding to the mind-retarding annoyance that is March Madness bracketing, Schilling's been running his own novelty version: a bracket pitting some of history's greatest pitchers, head-to-head. Personally, I think he should have created a bracket featuring intolerable ex-athlete douchebags who have gaping mouths and a thick, cement-like skulls, but what the fuck do I know?

Anyway, nothing gets stat-rats all hot and bothered like a good old "better than" debate, so if you're one of these guys - and apparently so is Curt - then head over to "38 Pitches" and type away until your fat salt-covered fingers go numb.

David Wright: American Hero

Bases loaded, bottom of the 9th. USA down by 1 run. David Wright steps to the plate. The wind-up, the pitch, he swings, and...

USA 6, Puerto Rico 5

America, embrace the hero you deserve...

From Here On Out, You Will Be Known As "Smith"

In the late 19th century and early 20th century, when immigrants left Europe in droves and crossed the Atlantic toward America seeking freedom, prosperity, and a sweet place to extort business owners and flip politicians, many families had their surnames forcefully changed. Why? Mainly because most workers on Ellis Island were lazy as all-fuck, but also because they didn't want to process families that had names with 78 consecutive consonants.

When you sit back and gauge the scope of the operation, it sort of makes sense - they don't speak English, we speak English - so let's change their name from "Rozhdestvensky" to "Rogers". Fuck it, they'll never know...

As a hack blogger respected writer, I would like to implement this process with some of today's players. I'm lazy as all-fuck, and without Google and a spell-check, I'm borderline illiterate. So, here are my top ten players who are in need of a name adjustemnt. As an added bonus, I'm providing said change. Enjoy, I'll be checking my bags at the gates of hell.

Current Name: Doug Mientkiewicz - 1B, Los Angeles Dodgers
New Name: Doug Myspace.
Reason: It's both topical and yet somehow douchey enough to fit him.

Current Name: Jeff Samardzija - SP/RP, Chicago Cubs
New Name: Jeff Samsonite
Reason: Not only does it reek of indestructibility, but it also encompasses a great, yet obvious, movie homage.

Current Name: Mark Grudzielanek - 2b, Free Agent
New Name: Mark Gonorrhea
Reason: Because who wouldn't love to read a headline that says: "Red Sox add Gonorrhea to the clubhouse".

Current Name: Jair Jurrjens
New Name: Jackson Flamethrower
Reason: Because "Jackson Flamethrower" is a whole lot better than his real name, which sounds like it belongs to a female Olympic figure skater.

Current Name: Justin Duchscherer
New Name: Billy Beane 2.0
Reason: Since he already owes his baseball - and possibly human - existence to Billy Beane, then why not take the linear name of his "father"?

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

*UPDATE*: Hamels Will Live

Unfortunately for the vindictive and scathingly spiteful AK, it seems as though Cole Hamels will survive.

In other news, the sudden throng of Philadelphian women applying for a physical therapy position within the Phils' organization suddenly dissipates and goes back to whatever shit-hole strip club they wandered from...

What Aren't You Telling Me, Cole?

"C'mon, would I be smirking like a jackass if I WASN'T fine?"

Phillies young-gun Cole Hamels is having an MRI today due to some "tightness and inflammation in the lower part of his elbow". He claims there's nothing to worry about, nothing to see here, and wants everyone to just move it along. That's right, just keep moving...

Sorry Cole, that's not going to happen. Mr. Hamels has obviously never heard of the simple principal that condemns him to doom, and labels this small blip on the radar as an H-Bomb to the Philadelphia Faithful. A movement of science so unstoppable it makes sabermetricians and meat-heads alike cringe in despair. It's called "The Verducci Effect".

The Verducci Effect is based on an article Sports Illustrated writer Tom Verducci wrote some years back in which he stated that when a pitcher increases his innings workload from one season to the next by more than 30, the effect can be disastrous. Cole Hamels threw about 189 innings in 2007 and about 262 innings in 2008 (both season totals include postseason innings). That's an increase of 73 innings. UH OH. That's a Verducci death sentence.

Mmm, now doesn't that sound good? I think I had a Verducci death sentence last Saturday when I went out for Italian food. It's this rigatoni dish with spicy sausage and heavy cream.

Maybe Cole should have one to lift his spirits. But if I were him, I'd hold the fork in my right hand.

Justin Masterson - Mr. Elastic?

What the fuck?

Happy St. Patrick's Day

It's time to get shit-your-pants drunk and lose your wallet in a bar. It's time to get in a fight with someone 3x your age and then strut and high-five your friends when you flatten the old man. It's time to frighten sober people, paint your hair like an asshole, and scream the lyrics to that one Dropkick Murphy's song you know. You have an excuse to start drinking at 10am today and piss your pants by noon, even though your mother's Jewish and your father's black. Eat corn beef, drink Guinness, punch your brother in the face, take shots of Jameson, wear a shamrock on your shirt, fall asleep on the train, and tomorrow, pretend it never happened. It's okay, not everyone gets to be Irish all-year-round, so we'll let you in on it for one day.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Off-Topic: Bracket Bust Your Way Out the Door

Hey there, friend - are you getting together with some pals and colleagues to start a bracket pool in anticipation of March Madness? Have you scoured websites, printed out spreadsheets, and done all your tedious yet diligent research in hopes of winning it all this year? Are you rooting for a specific team, painting your face, going to a game, or lobbying for extra tickets?

If you answer yes to any of these, then please, I beg you, leave me the fuck alone.

You will not find a more surly man than me this time of the year. I fucking loathe brackets, office pools and the everything that goes along with the tournament. It's not that I'm sour - I just don't care. Not a bone in my body pines to find out who's moving on to the next round, who upset who, or who's the underdog. In fact, here is a short list of 5 things I couldn't care fucking less about, but still care about more than the NCAA tournament:

1. Candle making
2. Farming
3. Coldplay
4. UFO's
5. Top soil

Engaging me in conversations about the tournament will only net a response that is vaguely reminiscent of Robert De Niro in the final scene of "Awakenings" - vegetative, bordering on dead.

And no, I do not think I'm above all the hoopla surrounding the tournament - please, this is coming from a guy who still prefers boxing to MMA (it's making a comeback!). But if I decided to create a baseball pool that was structurally the same as brackets and dragged on throughout the season and then pressed it on everyone I knew and called them faggots if they refused even if they don't care about baseball, people would call me an asshole - more than they already do.

So, what the fuck? Stop emailing me. Stop asking me to enter. And let me be a miserable - albeit reclusive - prick for these 2+ weeks. I'll be the guy pretending to care about the Grapefruit league and pouring over Spring Training stats like they mean something...Watch out for that Brett Gardener, I smell batting title!

Jimmy Rollins Wants to Kill You

Media boner and New York Mets public enemy #1, Jimmy Rollins, has made it clear that he doesn't just hate those lovable losers in Queens: He wants to murder every fan of any team in the tri-state area. Well, maybe he didn't go that far, but he did make it abundantly clear that he doesn't just want to beat the New York teams, he wants to bury them.

Here are a few of the more colorful quotes from the interview:
"That's something for the history books, Philadelphia knocking off two New York teams. I might retire. I mean, what else can I do after that?"
I don't know, maybe gut Carlos Beltran in front of his grandparents?
"When you play in a city like Philadephia, you better be ready."
Because if you're not, you will be raped by a bum named Harry who lives under the I-95 overpass. That's how Philly do!
"We enjoy hating the other teams..."
Please convey this type of sportsmanship to the Boys and Girls Club. And make sure they also know to tear the back-pocket out of a pair of pants when mugging someone - it adds to the psychological trauma!
"We want to take you by your head, put it under the sand, and then step on your neck, for real."
I'm sure the interviewer had a little trickle of piss running down his leg at this point, seeing that Rollins' is, as the interview progresses, slowly reverting back to that old charming Oakland, CA 'I'll murder you for a dollar' attitude.
"How else do you win?"
Timely pitching, practical hitting, good relief, maybe?
"That's how the Yankees did it as a team..."
Uh, no, they didn't. They actually used Derek Jeter's dreamy gaze to subdue opposing players, and then beat them over the head with a pillowcase filled with doorknobs.
"We're going to stomp on you, we're going to take your pride, everything about you, we are going to take from you. That's been our ambition the last couple of years."
This is sounding more and more like something Kellen Winslow Jr. would say, because it's equally as moronic.
(Asked about sharing air-space with WBC teammate David Wright) "As long as we got on the same uniform, we're all right..."
If Wright changes his clothes though, I'm going to strangle him with an extension cord.
"When he's got on that blue, white and orange uniform, though, you despise him."
Thank you for reiterating my point, Jimmy.
(Talking about the Yankees chances of a World Series win) "If they take the title from me, they take it from me, but they're going to have to take it..."
Is this the fucking WWE now? Is Rollins' so self-indulgent that he honestly thinks he's the leader of the Phillies? Does he realize he's less-valuable than Chase Utley, Ryan Howard and/or Cole Hamels? Does he know he's about to make my "All-Time Fuckface" roster?

/scribbles 'Jimmy Rollins' on a dirty cocktail napkin

Take that, asshole...

Robby and Stealing

It wasn't too long ago that Yankee fans, and Yankee officials alike, were fawning over the prospect of Robinson Cano. Yours truly jumped on the Cano/Melky bandwagon too early, not realizing that they were fucking idiots...So what triggered all the excitement? Maybe it was because Cano was the first minor league player to come up through the Yankees system in almost a decade who didn't completely suck, had a chance at stardom, and wasn't named Colter Bean or Drew Henson. Or maybe I was just still in shock from the '04 ALCS.

The horror, the horror...

Now, barring a Chad Curtis Christ intervention (never say never) this love affair is about to come to an abrupt halt. It's no secret that Cano isn't the smartest guy in the world - he's proved that time and time again. But hiding an injury is a new low, and his explanation for said injury is a new retarded. Cano says he didn't hurt his shoulder during the WBC - he hurt it before! Oh, now that fucking clears it up!

I understand certain ethnicities feel a strong bond with the country they were born in - I do not, because I am a red-blooded, fat, spoiled, bratty American - but to risk your health for some bullshit tournament is grounds for dismal. When the Yankees toyed with trading Cano in the offseason, I was against it. If they revisit those talks, God bless - if you need me, I'll be cleaning my car with my Cano jersey and picking up dog shit with a "Got Melk"* t-shirt.

*never owned one, because they are super-gay

Friday, March 13, 2009

Smack My Bitch Up

Reports are trickling in about a female nightclub-goer in Miami allegedly catching the wrath of a Bernie Williams' open-hand retort. After this PR rep tried to candidly take his picture, he got annoyed and allegedly snatched away the camera, threw it, and then punched her in the face...

...Wait, hold on a second - what happened?

Bernie Williams? Really? Ex-Yankee Bernie Williams? Nope, I can't see it. He seems more docile than Andy Pettitte after a morning of church. But who knows - maybe Bernie has a lethal side to him. Or maybe he's trying to twist his music career and go country.

Creepy Comparison #66: Alright, Alright, Alright...

Hey, remember when high school comedies were about doing drugs, drinking, and fucking, and not about a bunch of closeted gays singing and dancing and being all Christian and shit? Yeah, those were the days. And "Dazed and Confused" embodied everything that is great about HS movies. Hot, slutty girls, real mean dickheads, nerds, bullies, burnouts, and womanizers. *Sniff*, I'm getting all nostalgic over here...

The kid on the left played Mitch - his real name is Wiley Wiggins, no shit - the hapless frosh-nerd who got his ass paddled by Ben Affleck and twin brother of the kid from "Mallrats". He also got to ride around with Matthew McConaughey in the only meaningful role he's ever had, as statutory rapist David Wooderson.

On the right is 2008 NL Cy Young Award Winner Tim Lincecum. He looks like a 19-year old female softball player. But he's good. And he's dominate, so who cares if he gabs about makeup and hairdo's and pisses sitting down?

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Life is Fair #1: John Lackey

Times are tough, loyal WMHG readers, but you don't need me to tell you that. We all know the dismal state of the economy. There are two wars raging overseas. Our enviroment has more holes in it than the Yankees batting order. So it's easy to lose hope.

(cue John Williams music)

But we're here to change all that. It's at this crucial time in history that we've decided to show you that no matter how bleak things may seem, life, in the end, is indeed fair. The lord works in mysterious ways: He can giveth, and he most certainly can taketh away. In the case of many players in the MLB, the former is in the talent department, and the latter is in the looks department.

Example #1:

John Lackey - Just gross.
For all you ugly S.O.B.'s out there, don't lose hope!

The Continued Idiocy of Ned Colletti

Who is this "Pedro Martinez" that everyone is talking about? Is he some sort of pitcher? Is he available?

(is informed he once played for Dodgers)

Really? Did I sign him?

(is informed that no, he did not)

Did I trade him?

(is informed that no, he did not)

Do you know where I left my good sunglasses? I had to steal a pair out of the lost and found this morning, and they smell like an armpit. I'd really like to get my old ones back, if possible.

(is asked if he checked in his car)

Hmm...I can't say that I have. Do you know where my car is? I wonder if I left my gum in there as well. I have this brand new "teeth whitening" gum that I saw on the supermarket check-out line last night. It's fantastic. Do you know if I left that pack of gum in my office?

(is informed that no, it is not in there)

Well, I need to get some more as soon as possible, alright? Make that priority #1.

(is asked about Pedro Martinez)

Who's that?

(is informed that he is who they were discussing before he went of on another demented incoherent rant)

Oh, right. Do you think he would he be willing to a sign a twelve-year deal worth, oh I don't know, say $100 million dollars?

(blows brains out)

Dragging on a Dead Story, by J-Paps

"I call this Nantucket Steel"

Who doesn't love a loud-mouth closer who takes shots at departed players almost seven months after the fact? You don't? And you don't either? And you too? Shit, I seriously misjudged my audience.


Well, that's exactly what Jonathan Papelbon is doing - calling out Manny Ramirez about his antics last season. And what astoundingly homosexual magazine did Papelbon choose to be his forum? Esquire, of course! The home of closeted gays and articles about lasting longer during sex. What guy over the age of 17 wants to last longer? I thought the point was to beat your partner and fall asleep while they lie there unsatisfied?

Anyway...I'm not against a player calling out a teammate, as long as it happens in the same season and said player is still on the team and it eventually results in a physical altercation. But who really cares about what happened last season? I know that Papelbon isn't the smartest guy on the planet - but he should have used the swim technique when presented with a Manny question, and moved onto to better shit - like instead of resigning Jason Varitek and flushing $5 million down the toilet, how many Dodge Chargers and POD concert tickets - with backstage option - would Paps have bought?

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Roger Clemens Likes a Hot Soak and a Needle Poke


This just in from the super-gay newsroom: Roger Clemens was injected with steroids INSIDE OF YANKEE STADIUM! Right under our noses! And it doesn't end there, either - it happened while he was sitting in a hot tub...with Brian McNamee! Oh my God, this is the queerest shit I've heard since Clint Eastwood's singing solo at the end of "Gran Torino".

Wash your hands!!

And speaking of unhygienic practices - How dare you, Roger? How dare you sully the house that Ruth built? What's that? Yes, I am fully aware the stadium was renovated in the 1970's, and it isn't technically the same "home", BUT IT'S STILL SACRED!! It's hallowed ground! Did you know Mickey Mantle once fucked a groupie, drank a quart of whiskey and ate two cheeseburgers, all between a half inning? Now that's the kind of story you want associated with the Cathedral of baseball, not some faggoty romp between some Texan and a squirrely canary nerd.