Thursday, April 30, 2009

Swine Flu Alert in The Bronx

Guess Who's (Almost) Back?

Remember all the guys you knew in high school who did steroids? Their backs looked like a satellite shot of the moon and they often times physically attacked teachers and threatened to strangle them in front of the whole class (or was this just my school?)...Well, I do. And apparently, according to more leaked details from Selena Roberts' book, Alex Rodriguez was hitting the sauce - hard - back in high school, too.

These accusations surprise me about as much as A-Rod coming out of the closet. And I've also because become numb to the whole situation. But I am expecting Judgment Day type consequences when A-Rod returns to the lineup. It's going to be like the end of the original, "Ghostbusters", where Rick Moranis gets possessed by a dog and fucks Sigourney Weaver, and then the guys have to climb 100 flights of stairs to go and fight Zool. The pavement shreds, the sky goes dark, and the fucking Marshmallow Man destroys St. Patrick's Cathedral. At least that's how I envision it. Except minus the comedic timing of Dan Akroyd, Harold Ramis and Bill Murray. And more blond frosted tips. And more "Gay-Rod" implications.

But it's all typical New York Yankees/media bullshit. Just when it seems as though the team is putting it all together, pitching and hitting well (minus Jonathan Alababababababdajeo), you-know-who has to shuffle back into the spotlight and fuck some chemistry up. At this point, I wish there was an easy solution to the impending distraction. Why can't Alex Rodriguez take a late-night ride over the GWB, find his way to Secaucus, and disappear into the weeds? Would you be upset if he never returned? I know I wouldn't be. The Yankees would go out and trade for a replacement player - one with significantly less emotional/psychological baggage - and life would go on. But no, A-Rod has to prance his way back into the clubhouse, smiling like an asshole, mispronouncing words, and missing every 2-2 slider he meets...Goddamn this is going to suck.

Fuck it, I'm rooting for the Jersey scenario...

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Meet Mark Melancon

They call him "Joba 2", mainly because "they" are "retarded". But the team's brass, and a set of wildly ignorant fans, are hoping Mark Melancon is a stud closer in waiting. While this is a tall order to fill (Sorry all, but for every Mariano Rivera there are twenty Danys Baez's), I'm relatively certain that Melancon is going to help the Yankees bullpen - mostly because their bullpen is shittier than the toilets at the Port Authority bus station.

So, seeing that we are all unfamiliar with Melancon and his background, let's take a moment to learn more about the Yankees newest reliever.

Name: Mark D. Melancon
Born: March 28, 1985 in Wheat Ridge, CO, US
Throws/Bats: Right, Right

Fast Facts:
  • Do not look Mark Melancon in the eyes. He sees it as a threat and a challenge.
  • Do not climb a tree if chased by Mark Melancon. He can climb faster than you. And he carries a grappling hook.
  • After spending his childhood locked to a faux-pitcher's mound inside an abandoned airplane hangar in Colorado, his skin has become partially translucent. What you see on his body is a mask and body-suit designed by NASA.
  • His facial hair is finer than silk, and if ingested, more deadly than a Japanese Puffer Fish.
  • He does not enjoy comparison's to Joba Chamberlain. He prefers Jesus Christ.
  • Mark killed his first Grizzly at the age of 12. He killed his first insurgent threat at the age of 15. He killed his first Kei Igawa at the age of 24.
  • He throws 17 different pitches, include 8 unpronounceable by people speaking the English Language.
  • While at AAA Scranton, he used his index finger to correct Phil Hughes' vision.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Return of the Prodigal Son

Round 3 of the Phil Hughes experiment begins in a little over an hour. Should we expect lofty statistics? No. No we should not. I predict a stat line that reads:

5.2 IP, 7H, 4ER, 4 K's.

Flashy? No. But efficient? Yes. Because that is what a 5 starter needs to be - efficient. I'm not asking for a world-beater, I'm just asking for a guy that can keep the fucking floodgates closed for a little over half-a-game. Hopefully I am setting the bar low, to quite low. But taking into account my ability to jinx situations, it could end up being a slaughter.

Roles Reversed?

I am king of the camp that crowed for Joba Chamberlain to be a starter in the Yankees rotation. I love dominate starting pitching. I think Joba can be dominate. He's shown flashes of being dominate. In time - he's only 23 - he may turn into an Ace. He has all the tools, now all he needs is the experience.


Let's say Phil Hughes comes up and pitches serviceable, starting tonight. Then he strings off 4-5 quality starts. Then, let's say Chien-Ming Wang returns in a a couple of weeks or so, works out the "kinks", and gets his stuff and his velocity back. If all of these pieces fall into place, then should the Yankees move Joba back to the bullpen?

It's time the Yankees face the facts - there isn't much of a choice anymore. With Bruney on the disabled list, Damaso Marte shoveling dirt at a record pace, Jose Veras pitching like a drunk little leaguer, Edwar Ramirez throwing mediocre shit on his best nights, Phil Coke on-again off-again Jekyll and Hyde routine, and the enigma that is Mark Melancon, there isn't much of a bullpen to work with. Now, Joba wouldn't have helped win any games this past weekend - those losses were caused by a higher, unfair fucking power - but he may have helped define roles on Saturday, when it seemed like Joe Girardi was blindly spinning on his heels and randomly pointing at a members of his bullpen to go into the game.

Who knows, who cares, right? After all, it's April. But should a move be made now, before things get even more out of control? Does Girardi do it to save his job? As I said earlier, I've always been a, "Joba as a starter", kind of guy. Now? I'm not too sure...

Monday, April 27, 2009

The Girardi Watch

Swept at Fenway...?


The Drubbing

Comeback win, starting with a game tying home run in the bottom of the 9th: check
Walk off home run: check
Overcoming a 6 run deficit after 4 innings: check
Scoring 25 runs over a three game series: check
Steal home: check

The only thing left for Boston to do is collectively screw their wives, pour acid in their eyes, and kill all of their dogs with a shovel, because everything else demoralizing and humiliating was already accomplished.

The Yankees performance this weekend was fucking pitiful. I felt like I was watching someone punch my mom in the face over and over again. Joe Girardi was continually overmatched, and showed he is in no way ready to compete, let alone compete for a playoff spot. Each time the Yankees had a leg up on the Sox, Boston laid out a perfectly executed chop-block to take said leg out. The games may have seemed close, but they weren't. I had more fun watching the lady-friend run a half-marathon while the sun baked my Southern Irish skin in the 5,000 degree sun in Central Park surrounded by sweaty Euro-trash. The Yankees bullpen is as reliable as a recovering drug addict on vacation alone in Thailand.

And something needs to be done fast to fix this problem (a trade, perhaps?), because my fucking heart cannot take this shit anymore, and I'm not even 30 yet! Please, go out and get some bullpen help. I don't know what it's going to take for the Yankees to realize that Jose Veras, Damaso Marte, and Edwar Ramirez are not the answer. A blown 15 run lead? A blown 17 run lead? JUST GO OUT AND TRADE FOR SOMEONE BEFORE I HAVE A HEART ATTACK!


Friday, April 24, 2009

Friday Movie Matinee

Everyone knows and revels this epic scene from "True Romance". It's one of the best ever. Fuck the end of Citizen Kane, I'm taking this one any day of the week. Between Christopher Walken's delivery, Dennis Hopper's story, and even James Gandolfini's weird smirk, there's no way to describe just how fucking pants-shitting amazing it is. But it's been posted a million times on a million blogs, so here's another scene, featuring the best character in the entire movie, Drexel, played by Gary Oldman.

God's Gift to Mankind Talks About His First Series in Fenway

Yeah, I get it, the Red Sox fans are planning to shower me with boos and hisses like a bunch of fat, menstruating teenage girls watching cheerleading practice. The Sox fans want to rock Fenway with howls of discontent and make sure that I know how displeased they are with my offseason actions. Well, you know what I say? I say good. Boo your chapped clam-chowder asses off. Why don't you throw some D batteries at me too, just for good measure? But you better make sure you kill me with them, because if not, I'm throwing them back. And for just reference, which one of us has pinpoint accuracy and two golden glove awards? Oh that's right, me, the guy who used your team as a fucking pawn to squeeze some more change out of those two shitbags running the show in the Bronx.

(licks palm)
(slaps Hank Steinbrenner in the back of head)
(pumps fist in response to crowd's cheers)

I had zero allegiance to those six combined states of douchebagery. Zero. A big fat rotund one, like your zero of a mom. By the way is she still bagging groceries at Pathmark at getting railed by that science teacher at your old high school? Pshhh, what a loser. You must be ashamed. You should go walk in front of a train.

(flexes arms)
(media takes 7,000 pictures)

I can't help it if the Yankees wanted me more. They pay like men, not like old women trying to haggle down the price of a used La-Z-Boy at a flea market. I asked for big money, the Yankees delivered. I asked their brass to give me enough money to use $20 bills as kindling for my six story fireplace, and they gave it to me. I asked their brass to give me enough money to top the net-worth of Uzbekistan, and they gave it to me. Old Theo tried to sell me on the Red Sox "pride" and "nation" that comes along with being part of the team. Please, if I wanted that shit in return for my services, I would have joined a tribe of Native Americans, or better yet, a fucking cult. What does he think, I'm stupid or something? I went to Yale. Twice. When I was eleven. So you take that shit back to Bunker Hill, and I'll see you tonight in Fenway...with my gun.

(snaps fingers)

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Return of the Rivalry

With this weekend's Yankees vs. Red Sox series breaching the horizon, fans have to wonder what's going to happen between the two fat boys from each team on Friday night. No, I'm not talking about the lifeless that is Big Papi or the earned-run machine that is CC, I'm talking about Joba and Youk. I'm talking about whether or not Youkilis is leaving Fenway with a dent in his forehead, or if someone is finally going to stand up for the guy I love to hate.

But there has to be more to it. I can't see Joba hating the guy for being a cocky, ump-arguing, giant-headed nerd who probably has a minimal amount of friends. Oh wait, yes I can. Regardless, I ask the question: Why does Joba want to decapitate Kevin Youkilis.

Here are the only possible answers I could come up with:

  • Joba hates corny facial hair
  • Joba hates Jews
  • Joba hates gigantic grapefruit-on-a-toothpick heads
  • Joba hates anyone fatter than he is
  • Joba hates people presumed to be Greek
  • Joba hates the praise of Billy Beane

If you have a better reason for Joba's unbridled hatred, feel free to chime in. But I'm pretty sure it's bullet number two, though. Those Native Americans have a lot to be fucking bitter about, regardless if it was an Englishman or a Jewish man that coughed smallpox all over their face and/or extended family. I know if I were of the Native American ancestry would personally hate everyone who didn't drink rubbing alcohol, collect white man's scalps, ride horses bareback, and grow their hair long and flowing*.

*blatantly racist

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Cole Hamels: "Sorry For Not Giving A Sh*t"

It's soooo easy to hate Cole Hamels. On top of the fact that he plays for a team in Philadelphia (strike 1), his name is 'Cole' and he always walks around with that douchey smirk on his face (strike 2), and is a pretty talented pitcher that throws for my team's arch rival (strike 3, yer out!).

But, apparently, he doesn't give a shit about baseball anymore. See for yourself...

I don't wish pain, injury or misfortune on anyone, but when it just happens on it's own I don't think it's THAT wrong to enjoy it, right?

When in Doubt, Add Political Minded A**Hole

Do you enjoy someone screaming monotonically in your face? Do you like staring at a large rectangle shaped head that's over-sized and topped off with a douchetastic pair of glasses, fit only for someone who knows his shit smells better than yours? Do you like politics mixed in with your sports, reminding you that there are people out there who fanatically follow a "sport" where there is no chance of a walk-off, a Hail Mary, or a knockout?

Neither do I. And thankfully, we won't be seeing Mr. Keith Olbermann. That's left to the poor bastards who watch "Countdown". But MLB Blogs did hire him to write three times a week. He's dubbed as a "baseball nerd". While I agree with the "nerd" part, I can't say I'm excited to hear what Keith has to say about the fucking Pirates Farm System. But I'm sure he'll stick to the really in-depth and hard-hitting stuff, like steroids, overpaid players, and Barry Bonds.

I guess they missed my application...Bastards.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

The Saga Continues

Denying Boston some Wang could be a good thing, seeing that there are already a ton of Wangs (or dickheads, perhaps?) to go around in the greater Beantown area, already. And seeing Wang get blown up in front of a bunch of drunken Massholes would only sink the poor bastard into an even deeper funk.

But is it a smart move in the long run?

While it definitely gives the Yankees brass and coaches more time to delay the inevitable - whether it's a demotion to the bullpen or a quality comeback start - this could mean an even stiffer blow to our Thai friend's morale. But let's not forget that in recent history, there have been several Yankee pitchers who have started off poorly and made a serious comeback (Moose 2008 anyone?), although none of them looked as epically shitty as Wang has thus far.

Overall, I say good move. Give the man some time to rehash his abysmal showings - watching highlights of yourself getting shelled over and over again never hurt anyone, right? And If he comes back next week and implodes, then it's time to get the Phil Hughes express warmed-up - three years and running, by the way!

Ozzie Guillen's Stupidity Strikes Again

Let's play the hypothetical game here for a moment. Let's pretend that you just left a team that you legitimately underachieved for. But the underachievement wasn't all your fault. You were miscast, batted out of place in the lineup, and butted heads with the manager. Then let's say you leave this team for a new team in the offseason, via trade. On this new team, your old talents and motivations return. You start off the season as one of the hottest hitters in baseball. You then - in the midst of enjoying a sweet two weeks of baseball - tell a second-rate hometown news rag that your new manager is your favorite ever. Now let's say, your manager from your last team is insulted, and decides to make a comment, because he is absolutely, positively unable to keep his broken-English spewing, fat-fucking-mouth shut. How would you feel?

Well, ask Nick Swisher, because he will forever have this bumbling retard of a manager from Chicago following his quotes in any newspaper they appear in.

Now, my hatred for Ozzie is beyond shallow - in no way is it attributed to the defense of Nick Swisher. I've always hated him. I hated him in his playing days, and I especially hate him now. I don't think there's anything good about having a manager that runs his mouth and responds to dumb shit written 1500 miles away without prompt. He's an asshole. He's a puckered, goateed asshole. I hope he goes on vacation in the Philippines and disappears. If he is never quoted again, it would still be too much for my precious ears to handle. Just hearing his name makes me want to ignite TNT next to my eardrums so I will never have to hear such spewing nonsense for the rest of my deaf life.

So, is Nick Swisher to blame for Ozzie's comments? No, because who the fuck cares who Nick Swisher says is his favorite manager of all-time? What is this, fucking 5th grade? Is former Oakland manager Bob Geren losing sleep over Swisher's comments? No, because he is not a festering dickhead. But Ozzie is. And he cannot handle seeing what he believes is a slight. But until those cowards in Chicago's front office decide to do something about it, we the baseball public, will be continually reminded that there are brain-dead assholes evaluating lineups and forming rotations in major league baseball.

Monday, April 20, 2009

A Tough Decision Looms

It was a beautiful Saturday. Hot, balmy, even. A perfect day to sit in a dark, stuffy bar and drink a bunch of beers while the rest of the world returned to daylight without a faggy scarf or douchey peacoat. I was looking forward to some day-drinking and baseball. There was even a few stray butterflies circling my gut, in anticipation of what was supposed to be Chien-Ming Wang's return to rotation stalwart. After striking out Sizemore, and putting the Indians down in order, and Tex crushing one for a 2-0 lead, I was positive the Yankees would win. It would be a nice, easy victory, allowing me to slowly go comatose to the tune of a dozen fizzing Boggs's.

Obviously this didn't happen. I left one bar going into the top of the second, wandered for about ten minutes, strolled into another bar, and saw the score was 6-2. Then 7-2. Then rookie reliever Anthony Clagett absorbed what is the professional baseball equivalent of gang-rape. Then my vision got hazy. Then I switched to Stella. I wanted to numb it. I wanted to forget that the man leaving the game after 1 2/3 innings used to be the Yankees Ace. Eventually I did. But the 800 lb. gorilla in the room that all Yankees fans have to face is, what do the Yankees do next?

A weeks ago, I was completely against a panic. Now? Not so much. And the worst part is, the Yankees can't option Wang to the minors. So, if the Yankees allow him take his turn in Fenway - letting him walk into the fucking Lion's den armed with nothing more than a nerf football and a cap gun - he has to come out better than before. Because if there's no AAA option, and no DL reason, the brass may be faced with a decision that not one expert could foresee over the winter, and definitely one that no team wants to make in the month of April.

Putz-Rod #3

In my small way here at WMHG, I'll be celebrating the 8th/9th inning combination of J.J. Putz and K-Rod closing out games for the Mets by making one of these posts every time they slam the door shut on the opposition, both as a living tribute to Omar Minaya for fixing the bullpen and as a way to celebrate another great Mets victory!

Putz-Rod #3

4/18 - Milwaukee? More like Mil-shmaw-kee!

Friday, April 17, 2009

Captain Clutch Rakes Out a Win

Note to Joel Sherman: The Captain Says FUCK YOU!

Keep saying Jeter's done. Please. I beg you.

Friday Movie Matinee

In this two minute clip, Joe Pesci manages to say some of the greatest quotes in movie history. Yes, they may not be revered by the American Film Institute, or the Actor's Guild, but that's only because those trendy hacks would rather watch a short, foreign, film-noir about a poor painter who blows guys in public washrooms, has a friend named Pablo who's dying of tuberculosis, eats nothing but Tofu cereal while weeping silently, and ends up doing a header off of a bridge.

Me? I prefer Pesci, fucking sue me.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

This Could Be a Problem


Michael Kay Can't Stop, Won't Stop

Today - to the pants-dropping, self-gratifying delight of Michael Kay and throngs of other Yankees fans - is the first game at the new Yankee Stadium. As I've explained in the past, I'm not very sentimental. But I am happy that the pregame ceremony is set to start at 11:30, giving me several hours of shit to do other than fail at work.

Now, I know many many deaf Yankees fans are okay with the guy pictured above. They seem to deal with him as if he were a young, retarded child screaming in a diner at 10am on a Sunday. He can't help the ridiculous and moronic shit he says, or does, right?

No, wrong. Dead. Fucking. Wrong.

Michael Kay epitomizes the idiocy of most booth announcers. I don't know who's worse, the brain-dead assholes doing Sunday Night Baseball over at ESPN or this babbling motherfucker. Kay takes fandom, poor baseball knowledge, and hypocrisy to peaks and apexes that even fucking God has yet to discover. Have you ever noticed he cannot handle more than two seconds of silence before he has to state the obvious several times over? It's like he was locked in a bedroom closet as a kid and left there for hours on end with nothing to play with but a plastic hanger and a smock. JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP! I KNOW A.J. BURNETT JUST STRUCK OUT THE SIDE - IT LITERALLY HAPPENED 3 SECONDS AGO!

(bashes in drywall with hammer fist)

...Anyway, so I'm real excited for today's game. How many changes of pants do you think Kay has on hand? I say the line is 4. Feel free to disagree in comments.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

The Work of a Higher Power?

Since the X-Man may be done for the season, this ultimately opens up a spot for Nick Swisher in the starting lineup as the full-time right fielder. Am I upset about this? Sort of. While Nady was not going to rake the way he did last season, he would have been productive, and even if he lost the starting position, he's a good guy to have coming off the bench, especially since Nick Swisher could end up being the 8th inning guy for the Yankees bullpen, and tends to throw his body around in the outfield like Lindsay Lohan on a coke-binge at a movie wrap-party.

Dominate Potential

AJ, I apologize. I apologize for hoping you got hit by a car on your way to sign a contract with the Yankees. I apologize for calling you "soft" and "weak" and a "sopping wet bitch". I apologize for egging your house and throwing rocks at your windows and keying your car...Okay?


(sobs quietly into Melky Cabrera t-shirt jersey)

Last night's pitching performance was a thing of beauty. Fuck the blown no-hitter, and the two runs; it was the best start by anyone on staff so far this season. Before going into the stretch and losing his rhythm, Burnett was making players look ridiculous. Not stupid - ridiculous - like the way you look when you tuck your pants into your socks when you go hiking because you're scared of ticks...fucking nerd...

But please, A.J., all I ask is that you don't let me down. I'm not one who reacts well after a player sets lofty expectations only to let them come crashing down. Remember this guy? I was positive the Yankees stole him away from Colorado. And remember this guy? Yes, I may have been drunk that whole year, but I was sure he was destined for great things and double-digit home runs for years to come.

But back to the topic at hand...

If what the media says about Burnett learning the tricks of the trade from Roy Halladay last season is true, then Yankees fans are in for a treat. If he can stay healthy and not throw his arm out, he has a legit shot to be the most dominate starter on staff. And that also means the rest of the A.L. East is going to pay...with blood.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Creepy Comparison #69: He's Got An Edge

No, I'm not talking about Jeter's new Ford Edge, we're talking about Edge, the WWE wrestler, and Jason Werth, the Phillies right fielder. And speaking of Philadelphia, it would probably do Werth some good to pick up a few wrestling moves of his own. If he takes an 0-fer, fans wi'll be dropping beer bottles on his head from the right field stands at Citizen's Bank Park. They're savages, those people, savages I tell you...

Before You Become Mutinous

Once again, Yankees fans are spiraling into panic mode. They take one look at Wang's inflated ERA and immediately denounce him as the son of Satan or the brethren of failure. True, he has looked awful through two starts this season. But now is not the time to abandon ship. Did the United States abandon Captain Richard Phillips when those walking skeletons took him hostage? NO! They shot them all in the head. That's what the Yankees should do - shoot everyone in the fucking head that calls for Wang's dismissal.

(puts pistol to the head of innocent villager)
(screams in Cambodian)

Okay...Now that we're all calm - let's step back and assess the situation. Wang's velocity is fine. His Achilles is fine. It's his mechanics that are causing the trouble. His sinker isn't sinking, turning it into a stagnant fastball down the middle each time he throws it. All coaches and managers agree that his mechanics are off. The same thing happened to CC at the beginning of last season, and he went on to win 17 games and form his own 1 man rotation in Milwaukee (and they even had Jeff Suppan!).

Let's also not forget that Wang made only 15 starts last season before his freak injury. So, before everyone starts to call for the return of the Mighty Phil Hughes, let's wait and see if he can turn it around.

If I'm calm, then you should be calm. Let's all stay calm here! Now that we're calm again, don't make me get my gun...

Monday, April 13, 2009

God's Gift to Mankind Discounts Any Injury

This word, tendonitis - when applied to me, that is - is a farce. Doctors say I'm suffering from it. The funny thing is, I don't "suffer". I enjoy. I love. I wallow. I indulge. I allow. I satiate. But I do not suffer. The last person that hinted that I was "suffering" from something, ended up suffering for a very, very long time in a very, very painful way. From what? Let's just say, it was unpleasant.

(makes fist with right hand)
(makes circle with thumb to index finger on left hand)
(pushes entire arm through hole)

But I do not feel sorry for myself. Team doctors are keeping me out of the lineup because of the rage I harbor, not because of some injury. At any moment - until this "tendonitis" speak subsides - I'm liable to skewer a pitcher with a finely cut piece of Ash. That's ugly. And I'd rather not have to hear those haunting screams again.

(flexes biceps)
(kisses biceps)
(absorbs cheers from crowd)

Give it a day, my fair compatriots. In a day or so, I will show what it means to be an offensive juggernaut. I will show you why I was pegged as the man who will mercilessly destroy and slaughter opposing pitchers. This is a promise, friends. Now move along, I'm getting tired of your company, and I need to practice the acceptance speech that will bring the house down when I'm congratulating myself at my Hall of Fame induction.

Jumping to Conclusions

If I heard it once, I heard it fifteen times yesterday - if Joba Chamberlain wasn't in the rotation, he would have shut yesterday's game out. If Joba came in, the Yankees would have cruised through the 7th and 8th innings. If Joba was available, he would have broke the sound barrier, de-caved Al-Qaeda, and cured Alex Rodriguez of his gayness.

While this might be true, I still think he should be starting.

(And just for the record, the loss was Girardi's fault, and no one else's. He should have kept Veras in. Matching Coke against a righty? That's just dumb.)

Now, back to the Joba debate. The real question here is - and trust me, I understand how overblown this argument is, especially since it's now brewing after an April loss to K.C. - would the Yankees have had the lead if Joba didn't start? What if it were Kennedy or Hughes or Aceves? These guys are crapshoots. While Hughes probably be the most successful of the trio, it doesn't mean he should be in the rotation when Joba is obviously a more polished starter.

The bullpen was mismatched against K.C. on Sunday - plain and simple. The manager shit the bed. So put the "Joba to the bullpen" signs away. When he's mowing down hitters for seven innings (while not pitching in a monsoon), everyone will be okay with it. Until then, relax, have a fucking drink, take a bong hit, but lay off the panic button for a month or two.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Friday Movie Matinee Part II: Big Ern

The Yankees are up against the always fat Sidney Ponson today at 4pm in Kansas City. I, for one, am not looking forward to watch that fat-shit lob his way through a few innings, and God forbid, end up beating the Spanks somehow. So, I'll be entertaining myself with clips from "Kingpin", because why the fuck not? Enjoy.


Friday Movie Matinee

Because I'm being lazy, and don't feel like rehashing yesterday's game (A.J. Burnett looked great! Nick Swisher isn't bad!), here's another clip from "Mean Streets". It's lengthy, but easily one of the greatest scenes Robert De Niro has ever been in.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Rotation Watch - New York Mets

Since my clever colleague over here decided to start the inevitable feces throwing this early in the season, I decided to sink to the Shea Stadium Children's Blood and Tears Citi Field level, and fire back.

Since declaring Johan Santana an Ace is like calling a sorority girl nicknamed "Spread-Eagle", "easy", there's no reason to divulge into his place at the top of the Mets staff. But besides Johan and the gift of Jesus Christ's changeup, the rotation is shaky at best. First up, Mike Pelfrey, the Mutts #2. Boy did he look great last night! Oh wait, he looked like shit, that's right, I was too busy watching the Mets offense light it up for anyone without the initials "J.S.".

Next up - Oliver Perez, Culican's very own version of Jeff Spicoli. Will he act like he gives a shit today? Will he implode and walk 13? Will he strike out 15 and make housewives from Flushing wet their belly-high trousers? Who knows...It's always a crap shoot.

At #4 we have John Maine. Can he avoid another injury? Can he avoid a second-half landslide like 2007, when he went 5-6 with a 5.53 ERA after the All-Star break? Can he please catch the clap from some Bridge and Tunnel skank?

Rounding out the rotation is the other vaunted Cuban-born Hernandez brother - Livan. He's famous for tantalizing fans after a hot start, and then systematically collapsing start-by-start until he's mercifully released, only to trick another team into picking him up. He used to be a rotation "Iron Man" because he pitched 200+ innings a season for 8 seasons straight. But not anymore. And ignore his listed age of "33", it's much closer to "43".

The Girardi Watch

As we all know, the Yankees have lost their first two games of the season and the Mets won their first two. What does that mean in Yankee land? Time to overreact! In the spirit of irrationality, I think it's the right time of the season to start guessing when Yankee skipper Joltin' Joe Girardi-o will be fired.

Enter the first new semi-regular recurring post related to the 2009 baseball season on WMHG:

The Girardi Watch

The theme of the post is a play on words. Not only are we "watching" to see when he gets canned, but the Doomsday Clock (pictured above) can also be thought of as a Doomsday Watch, ya know, since they both tell time!

(slips on banana peel)

Anyway...I chose the Doomsday Clock graphic to tie into the post because the firing of a manager usually signifies precisely what the Doomsday Clock was created to symbolize: complete and utter global nuclear annihilation.

In case you're not familiar with the clock, the number of minutes to midnight it's set to equals just how symbolically close we all are (or in this case, Girardi is) to the fiery end.

After back-to-back disastrous games to start the season, the clock has officially been set to:


Another Gem

So, does the season start tonight again, all you fucking optimistic assholes? Huh? Does it start tonight? Does it start tonight after Monday and last night's shit-show? Does. The. Fucking. Season. Start. Tonight? I WANT ANSWERS!

I take nothing positive away from these two games. Nothing. There was not one thing that made me say, "Wow, at least we have that to look forward to all season!" I wanted to puke after Opening Day. Last night almost drove me toward starting up a heroin addiction. If they keep up the shenanigans and lose tonight, I may just have to.

Something needs to be done. Maybe Girardi should surprise the fuck out of everyone and drive a spear through a bat-boy's face during a pregame pep talk - maybe that will open some fucking eyes.

Apparently I was wrong, because I thought having God's hysterical joke of a human being on the D.L. for a month would be motivation in itself to play well, but maybe these assholes need a better reason.

Anyway, pass the gin. I'm going for a walk...

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Round 2

When you have no place to go, but up, well, this is where Chien-Ming Wang shines. So shine dammit! Shine! I DEMAND YOU SHINE!

Well, at least shine brighter than this goofy-looking motherfucker, okay?


Alcohol Banned in Roger's Centre

People who don't drink at baseball games: Pregnant women (except from the Bronx), children under the age of 12, people in AA and...Canadians?

Apparently the garbage-heaving Canucks were a little too much for those mounties to handle up in Toronto, because the Alcohol and Gaming Commission suspended the Roger's Centre liquor license for three days.

Here are a few suggestion for all you Molson-loving drunks who just can't bare the thought of watching a whole nine innings without coming milliseconds away from pissing your pants or threatening a seat usher.
  1. Drink on the way - that's what the car's cup holders are for
  2. Drink in the parking lot - see above, less fun but less dangerous
  3. Boycott these three games and drink at home - because really, it's not like Toronto's breaking any fucking attendance records or anything.
It's just a thought. Or fans can go enjoy a nice, quiet contest without any sound, at all. Like Communist Russia!

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Creepy Comparison #68:Caged Heat

This one caught me by surprise for two reasons, really: 1) Honestly, the only reason I found it was because I was checking out the gamecasts on opening day and saw the picture on the right (John Lannan) which obviously made me wonder if he was Nicolas Cage's disowned younger brother, and 2) how could anyone be more surprised than finding out that someone named John Lannan is starting on opening day?! Things aren't exactly looking up in our nation's capital, I guess. That's two scoops of surprise right there.

On a side note, I made the great mistake of going to see Mr. Cage's new thriller "Knowing" last night. There isn't much that can be said about this movie but "Wow, it's really hard to believe they made that." The entire movie was pointless, the acting was horrible and to cap it all turned out the whole thing revolved around aliens and I'm pretty sure I noticed a God/Angels/Garden of Eden reference at the end, which is the last thing I'm looking for in a sci-fi movie.

Nick has been living off of Con-Air/The Rock/Snake Eyes for a while (yes, I said Snake Eyes). My patience is wearing thin...

The Day After Yesterday

(cue the circus music)

After yesterday's drubbing at the hands of the fearsome Orioles, I've been reassured several times over by laid-back "normal" fans that it's just one game, that it's way too early for players to find their swing, and that the season starts tomorrow...

No motherfucker, the season started yesterday. And it didn't start off on a good note. It started off on a terrible note. It started off on a note from your girlfriend to your best friend saying she wants to practice the reverse-cowboy with him for her upcoming fuck scene in an amateur European porn video. Yes, it was that bad. Am I overreacting? Yes, of course - but only because I'm fucking insane! I can't help but think that once again, the Yankees will be 14 games out of 1st place by May, and will have to spend the rest of the season climbing out of the cellar and fending off Joel Sherman dribble and Hank Steinbrenner's daily newspaper "retardisms".

And who's to say the team won't stall out of the gate? Their defense was fucking awful and their at-bats were shit. Most of the Yankees looked like scared children chopping away at a saplings in the box.

Is this an extreme outlook? Yes. But fuck being a glass half-full fan, that shit is for grandmother's and ignorant homers. I want a dominate game to reverse my opinion. I want them to take down the Orioles 113-1 and slaughter Melvin Mora during the seventh inning stretch with a battle axe. I want Dave Trembley's Aristocratic French blood spilled all over the freshly planted grass of Camden Yards. Then, maybe, I'll let yesterday's embarrassment go...

(pulls pistol and bottle of whiskey out of desk drawer)

Ok, Ok, I get it...Give it a few days. Let the team settle. But don't try and talk me off the ledge until all five pitchers have shown they can make quality starts. I've been fooled too many times in the past, dammit and I will not be fooled again!

If you need me, I'll be on the porch...

Life Is Fair #3: Aaron Harang

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 #3:

Aaron Harang - Zombie King, leader of the un-dead

For all you ugly S.O.B.'s out there, don't lose hope!

Monday, April 6, 2009

Creepy Comparison #67: Maybe it's 'Cause I'm Irish

If I could have anyone in the world narrate my existence, it would be Morgan Freeman. Forget Michael Douglas, forget David Keith, forget Gene Hackman. I want Freeman.

For example:

A harrowed man drinks from an amber bottle, alone, ignoring the raucous crowd around him. He looks beaten and tired. His eyes tell the story.


The beer was more than a drink to the good
Doctor - oh yes - it was more than just a
drink indeed. It was cold and brisk, like a
winter morning. The smooth taste reminded
him of the days when he was a young man,
alone in this world, walking amongst giants
and thieves and cowards who haven't quite
realized the horrors of growing old.

Anything close to that is better than you saying in your head, "I need to take a shit..." And it doesn't matter if Freeman's announcing to the world that he has a raging case of hemorrhoids or announcing that America just bombed Tehran, he still sounds more sophisticated than anyone I know.

As for Jerry Manuel, I respect the way he handles the media and I respect the way he handles cry-baby Jose Reyes' brat tendencies, but the glasses, lose them. Managers get paid some nice scratch, you're telling me he can't swing for LASIK?

It's Probably Because of Something You Did

An Major League Opening Day* marred by rain is like staining your brand new t-shirt with spicy mustard, or stepping in shit with new shoes, or finding out your girlfriend is cheating on you with a movie star - not world-ending, but more than just mildly annoying.

So why did God chose to soil such a great day? Why not tomorrow, when every team inexplicably needs a day off after one game? Why have games already been canceled? Is there no break in this shit? Can't we fit in 5 innings? How about 4? We can finish up tomorrow. I need baseball. If another person invites me to an NCAA finals party, I'm going to accept the invitation under false pretenses and upper-deck all of their bathrooms - methodically, one by one - until their day is as ruined as mine...

*Real Opening Day, not that ESPN 2 one game bullshit last night, and every season for that matter. And by the way, fuck you to both the reigning world champion Phillies and the Mets. Why the Mets? Because they should have signed Lowe, that's why...

Team Flat-Hat

There's a trend catching on in baseball that I really can't stand. And it's something I can't get away from, either, because I see it spreading from team to team at a rapid pace. It's not player's appearances either, fat or ugly or fat and ugly - no, it's not anything like that at all. It's that some of them, just SOME of them (for now, thank God) choose to purposely flatten out the brim of their hat so it's straight across with no curve.

As you can see in the simple diagram above, the typical MLB hat has some curve to the brim. This is clearly different than the annoyingly-flat-brimmed hat on the left. I assume that some of today's players seem to think that by doing this, they receive magical strike-throwing or ball-hitting ability. Not true. And I just can't stomach it anymore. The main perpetrators must be exposed.

Here they are, the roster of the All Flat-Hat team (team ranked in order of brim flatness, in ascending order):

Troy Tulowitzki

Slight arch, but a bit too flat for my taste.

Joba Chamberlin

Where the hell are this ugly bastard's eyebrows?

Dontrelle Willis

Why is he holding an orange? Ohh, that's right, he sells them now.

Colby Rasums

Uber-prospect? Yes. Uber-asshole? Yes.

Anthony Reyes

Does that brim come to a slight crown...? No, no it does not.

Chad Cordero

Hey Chad, maybe if you lift the had from over
your eyes you'd be able to throw some strikes.

Edinson Volquez
It's so flat it almost looks like he just placed it

on his head and could blow off at any second.

What do you say, boys? Do it for your old pal AK. Curve those brims!

MLB Notes: Opening Night

Hope all of you loyal WMHG readers enjoyed opening night, as you know, I sure did. Two quick notes worth commenting on from a great game to open the 2009 season:

1) It was subtle, but did you notice the Phillies new uniforms? As you can see from the diagram, they've upgraded their standard home uniform's with a line of gold trim to commemorate last year's World Series title. I know most teams will celebrate the season following a W.S. win with a patch or something, but you can tell how win-starved a franchise is when they change their entire uniform to remind everyone that they won last year. It almost seems like they did it to remind themselves that it wasn't a dream, and yes, they actually won last season (you can't tell I'm bitter, can you?).

2) New Braves closer Mike Gonzalez was so nervous when he got the call to come in the game on Opening Night that apparently he was hammered drunk. As you can see from the link, his stance on the mound before he delivers from the stretch is spread-out and unorthodox. What you can't see from that photo is that he wiggles around from side to side in constant motion before he begins his delivery. He honestly appears to be too drunk to stand up straight. Yet another reason I hate the Braves.

All in all, a good night. I never though I'd be rooting for the Braves, ever, but it's funny how life changes. Excuse me a moment while I swallow this cyanide pill...

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Life is Fair #2: Juan Pierre

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 #2:

Juan Pierre - With 'Stash

For all you ugly S.O.B.'s out there, don't lose hope!

Friday, April 3, 2009

BREAKING NEWS: Sheffield to All-the-Way Sign Mets


Queens, please meet the poor man's A-Rod. Enjoy.

7 Days, 7 Years: 2006

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.

2006 - Johan Santana, Minnesota Twins

Stats: 19-6, 2.77 ERA, 245 K's, American League Cy Young Award Winner

Johan is the first (and only) repeat on this list, so I think we can skip the formalities and dive right into his stats.
  • 19 games with at least 7 K's
  • 9 games with double-digit K's
  • 0.997 WHIP
  • Twins were 27-7 in games started by Santana
Not one to be topped by previous heroic feats, Santana dominated the second half of the season, accumulating numbers that make statisticians sob uncontrollably in their mom's basements. Observe:

15 GS, 102 IP, 10-1, 2.37 ERA, 107 K's, .209 BAA

During this stretch of Johan raking, the Twins went 13-2 in his starts and ended up winning the Wild Card. They folded to the A's in three games, showing less offense than Paris Hilton in an "Avoid the Dick" contest. But Santana did his part, though - in one start he pitched 8 innings with two earned runs and 8 K's.

Another gem season in the books for Johan. Now, if his new team could fucking propel themselves into the playoffs, then we'd be able to witness the postseason domination Johan's shown in the past...

Off Topic Friday: Mean Streets

If you're like me, then you're sick of watching Robert De Niro continually flush his fucking career down the toilet. Try and name the last half-decent movie he starred in. Go ahead. Try. And if you say "Meet the Fockers", then you have the same sense of humor as a dead cat and you should be beaten to death with a shoe.

The last decent movie he made was "The Score", in 2001.

Now, give me a good reason why one of the greatest actors in history hasn't been offered a halfway decent role in almost 8 years? It's ridiculous...

Now, I don't want to ruin De Niro's eventual comeback, but check out some of the info on "Frankie Machine", due out next year. Michael Mann is set to direct (Last of the Mohicans, Heat, Collateral) may become the man that gives De Niro a shot at redemption. If not, well, he can always take the Marlon Brando route and become a squirrelly motherfucker who's as in touch with the real world as Gary Busey is.

For some vintage De Niro, watch the clip below...

Thursday, April 2, 2009

7 Days, 7 Years: 2005

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.

2005 - Chris Carpenter, St. Louis Cardinals

Stats: 21-5, 2.83 ERA, 213 K's, National League Cy Young Award Winner

There may be some debate over the best pitcher in 2005 - an argument for Johan Santana could be made, as usual - but I'm going with Chris Carpenter, mostly because he went from journeyman pitcher to ace in just two seasons, but also because I have to write about Johan again tomorrow. I'm lapsing in the creative thought department right now. Fucking sue me.

So what defines Carpenter's 2005 campaign? Consistency. Well, that, and the magical healing powers and guidance of Cardinals pitching coach Dave Duncan. Before joining the Birds in '04, Carpenter's ERA never saw a sub-4 standing. Once Duncan took him under his wing, and Carpenter recovered from a torn labrum, he was a new pitcher. And less of a pussy, by the way.

Carpenter turned into a strikeout machine, netting 213 for the season and striking out at least 7 in 15 of his 33 starts. If you subtract his two awful starts that book-ended the season, he would have had an ERA hovering around the 2.00 mark, threatening to drop below. He also pitched 7 complete games, and won two games in the postseason.

And even though Dave Duncan keeps refinancing his soul with the Devil to make sure these reclamation projects continue to fall into his lap, there's no denying that Carpenter deserves the nod for the most-dominate starter of 2005*.

*Besides the aforementioned Johan Santana

Call Me "Ishmael"

There's always been something off about Cardinals outfielder Rick Ankiel. Maybe it's the steroid abuse, or maybe it's the whole "going crazy" thing, I don't know, it could be a combination of the two. But what I know for sure is, anytime someone wants people to call them by a new name, then they're probably spending their nights talking to a dog and/or checking their rear-view mirror for shady-looking black, 1957 Chevy's.

I'm all for being reinventing yourself - go nuts, cut your hair, grow a mustache, tattoo the word "fuck master" on your forehead - it could be a good move. But changing your name? I don't know about that - unless it's "Cockface McFagsex", I don't think it's going to get you anywhere. In fact, I think it makes you even more of a douchebag. Did you see Gaylord Perry changing his name? And his name was fucking Gaylord! That's top-three worst first names in history. But no, he stuck with it, threw some Vaseline on the baseball, and took a trip to Cooperstown. And what about Rusty Kuntz? That's just gross. But he didn't whine and bitch, he's still sticking it out, too.

Ankiel's suggested going by, "Dick". No, not something cool like, "Tank" or "Monster" or "Fuck Machine", but "Dick".

Well, if that's what he really wants - no pun intended - then maybe he should be granted his wish. The name fits the person, especially in this case, because he requested it.