I am happy to report that after last week’s Ozzie-o-Rama, today’s post will be an Ozzie free society. You will see no mentions of Ozzie Smith and his pregame backflips, we will not compare the unmet power potential of former Cub Ozzie Timmons and former jailbird Ozzie Canseco, there will be no random references to the 1950‘s TV show The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and bats, for once, need not fear the wrath of Ozzy Osbourne. Ozzie Virgil, Ozzie Newsome and Ossie Davis will also be completely off limits. In fact, just to be on the safe side, I will not even be talking about anyone named Ollie (I’m talking to you, 6th man on the Hickory High bench) and you will see no mentions of Fozzie Bear or hear him say his famous catch phrase***. Thank you for your support and understanding.
* I decided to allow “thewife” to have control of the remote Sunday night and by the time “World’s Most Extreme Homes” was over (what a terrible disappointment that Troy McClure’s post-modern tribute to fish was not featured) and I was able to turn on the Sox-Astros game, Houston had built a 9-2 lead and the game was in the eighth inning. Ignoring my insistence that, despite the 7-run deficit, the Sox still had a legitimate chance to win the game, she headed up to bed. Silly girl. Why read Harry Potter for the 674th time when you have the unique opportunity to watch the Tadahito Iguchi Show (brought to you by Mr. Sparkle?)
Remember back in the 90’s when Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen were roaming the court for the Bulls? Remember how, regardless of the score, you just knew that the game was never out of reach? Oh sure, the Bulls could be down 17 to the Pacers or the Knicks with five minutes to play, but you figured that Craig Hodges would catch fire behind the arc, or Bill Wennington would start knocking down that little 15-foot jumper or, if all else failed, Michael would just do his thing. That is precisely how it is for the Sox these days. This team could be down 6-0 with two outs and nobody on in the ninth, and you still cannot count the team out. Look, there are very few things you can count on in Chicago sports these days. Pretty much all we’ve got is that Dusty will continue to try and convince fans after every game that he really is a good manager and that things will get better once he has all his pieces (after all, I’m certainly counting down the days until Angel Pagan makes his triumphant return to the North Side), Rex Grossman, Eric Daze and [name a Cubs pitcher, any pitcher] will continue to be more likely to be in the training room that on the field or ice, and the Sox will continue to make their fans proud of their heart and hustle. At this point, with two outs in the last inning, I’d rather be wearing a Sox uniform and down four runs with Juan Uribe at the plate and nobody on base than be wearing a Cubs uniform and be down a single run with the bases loaded and Aramis or some other overpaid Cub who if given some Veritaserum would probably lament that things have gone steadily downhill at the plate ever since Sammy and his bulk discount left town (not to mention that damn Jose Canseco and his literary attempt to teach the world of the wonders of steroids and last ditch effort make money without resorting to auctioning off the right to spend a day with him in his Miami mansion. Wait a minute he already did that? What’s next? An appearance on the Surreal Life? Oh yeah, never mind).
* Sure, signing a long-term contract has its benefits (especially when your name is Darin Erstad and you are still getting paid $8 million per year, despite sporting a .220 batting average -- Erstad signed a four-year, $32 million contract after hitting .283 in 2002), but it has got to feel mighty good to be a free agent. If you are superstar you basically have 30 teams throwing money at you and you have an open choice regarding where to go. And the choices essentially are endless. Do you choose San Diego where it is always 73 degrees and sunny and you can rub noses with Shamu? Do you head to LA, where you can fail miserably in the clutch and nobody will ever know since everyone heads to Rodeo Drive to buy $2,000 booties for their dogs after the sixth inning? How about Motown, where you can bum cigarettes from Manager Jim Leyland and buy a house on the same block as Chauncey Billups, Eminem and Axel Foley? Seattle for some java to replace your pre-George Mitchell investigation dirty little secret? The south side of Chicago for the Jim Thome hand-knitted sweaters and the promise that George Michael will assuredly not be playing on the clubhouse stereo and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy will not be shown on the televisions? Wrigleyville because you bought Mark Grace’s little black book on E-Bay? Atlanta for the Gold Club? Milwaukee for the… Atlanta for the Gold Club?
Well, it looks more and more like Kerry Wood will gain coveted free agent status at the end of this year. Regardless of whether Wood is sidelined for the remainder of the season with his injured shoulder or whether he comes back and pitches effectively, you have got to figure that Jim Hendry and the Cubs will decline his $13.5 million option. And although the possibility remains that Wood and the Cubs may agree on an incentive-laden contract, you get the feeling that the Wood experiment in Chicago has run its course. After all, those MRI and X-Ray machines aren’t cheap. Not to mention all the consultations with House.
So, the big question is, are any teams actually going to be interested in signing a guy who is about as likely to make it through an entire season in one piece as Jabba the Hut is in replacing Anna Nicole Smith as the spokes(hut?)man for TrimSpa. The simple answer? Absolutely. Here is a guy who, despite his Yugo mechanics and the fact that when the ball leaves his hand it is as likely to hit the mascot as it is to find the strike zone, continues to have terrific stuff. Think a guy like Steinbrenner won’t take a chance on Kerry? Think the Red Sox, scared that a guy like Steinbrenner will take a chance on Kerry, won’t step up to the plate with a barrel of cash? Think that the Dodgers won’t be willing to add Kerry to their collection of ex-Cubs who were thought of as eternally injured, but become immediate all-star candidates once revived by either the Southern California sun or by something else equally invigorating and readily available in Tinseltown (ssssh, don’t tell Mia…)?
My guess is that should the Cubs sever ties with Wood, he will have plenty of ready suitors. The Diamondbacks will offer him Jason Grimsley’s old locker. Boston will offer free clam chowder at Melville’s and free beer at Cheers. Colorado will offer all the Rocky Mountain Oysters that one can eat. The Giants will offer a 10-bedroom home in the exclusive section of Telegraph Hill in the beautiful city of San Francisco. Across the Bay, the A’s will offer a 10-bedroom home in the exclusive section of Telegraph Hill in the beautiful city of San Francisco.
But making a decision will not just involve deciding whether he’d rather have knishes thrown at him and be called a worthless piece of horsecrap by hometown fans in New York or have cheesesteaks thrown at him and be called a worthless piece of dogcrap by fans in Philadelphia. Oh no. This is Kerry Wood we are talking about. The same Kerry Wood who cannot seem to go more than 60 pitches without having his shoulder turn to mush. Kerry has to do a lot more research than just choosing whether he prefers the Marlins’ offer of stone crabs and hanging out with the Golden Girls in South Florida or the Orioles’ offer of blue crabs and hanging out with Roc, Dr. Frederick Chilton, and the boys from the movie Diner at the Inner Harbor. I mean how much time will Kerry actually spend in the hometown city where he signs anyway? In the end Kerry really needs to do a little more research than your average free agent. He has got to consider where exactly he will be spending his time.
Well, you are in luck, Kerry, as I have done the lion’s share of the work for you. I have taken the initiative and already reviewed each major league team’s minor league affiliates so we can find the best place for you to continue your stellar minor league career. Please remember, this is the guy who is more likely to leave a game after aggravating an old sewing injury than pitch a complete game shutout. And when on the comeback trail, you certainly do not want to make your rehab starts in Peoria or Des Moines (just ask Mark Prior…or Derrek Lee… or Mark Prior again) or Syracuse. Sure, in Syracuse, you get to play for the Skychiefs, can visit the Jim Boeheim national museum of whining and will have the opportunity to take photographs of the post where a young Thomas Mapother III measured himself year-after-year, praying that someday he may actually reach 5’7 (sorry Tom, you may have a million dollar smile, unlimited riches and memories of banging , not only Nicole Kidman, Penelope Cruz, and Katie Holmes, but, more impressively, Rebecca DeMornay on the ‘El as a North Shore teenager, but some dreams are simply too big to come true), but you have to live…in Syracuse.
So, I have identified three possible destinations for Kerry and present them below:
New York Yankees: Sign with the Evil Empire and you have to take the good with the bad. A first stop in Charleston (SC) playing for the Single A River Dogs would be sweet. South Carolina barbeque, beautiful southern scenery, a Margaritaville store, and a chance to visit the one and only H.S. Hunley await you in this gem of a city. The problem lies once you move up the ladder. Double A means a stop in Trenton, New Jersey to pitch for the Thunder. Visiting the schoolyard where a young Norman Schwarzkopf unleashed daily beatings on a young Antonin Scalia until they realized that they were two of the few local members of the Thomas Dewey fan club would be cool, as would spending a couple hours at either the buffet where Charlie Weis subscribed to the body by pork rinds theory or the makeup counter where Dennis Rodman learned the proper way to apply blush and eyeliner, but at the end of the day, you are still dodging bullets on your way to and from the ballpark. It’s enough to cause a sudden and mysterious injury setback, causing you to head back to the Low Country for another visit to Fort Sumpter.
Florida Marlins: It really does not matter with the Marlins until you get to head to Albuquerque to play for the Isotopes at the Triple A level. Homer, Lenny and Carl may not have been pleased with the potential move, but Kerry will love it. Albuquerque has got to be one of the most underappreciated cities in America and grass is overrated anyway. Besides any city that produced NFL hard hitter Ronnie Lott, is responsible for developing the creative minds of the Maloof brothers (four words: Palms, cheerleaders, beck and call), and is the birthplace of the creator of Beavis and Butt-Head is a place that I want to add to my must visit list. Not to mention the fact that the education system produced Doogie Howser, M.D., who was removing gall bladders before his parents had even stopped spanking him for coloring on the walls. Huh Huh. He said spank. Huh Huh. Yeah. Heh Heh. That was cool.
And tell me that you are going to find a better stadium promotion that Nuclear Plant Employee, Spouse and No More The Three Children Night. I mean, unless you are Steve Garvey.
Los Angeles Dodgers. Once again, the lower levels are largely irrelevant. One only needs to focus on Triple A with the Dodgers. And, with the Dodgers, we are not talking about a place where Rodman first tried out a little rouge, we are talking about actually getting the opportunity to apply the rouge to Dennis while hoping that the shooter rolls a hard eight. With the Dodgers, we are not talking about the place where the brothers with the oh so wonderful cheerleader idea spent their youth, we are actually talking about the cheerleaders. Heck, with the Dodgers, we are talking Barry Manilow at the Hilton!
Yes, Kerry, we are talking about Sin City…Las Vegas, Nevada. A place that fits you to a tee. After all nobody pitches a better simulated game than you. And nobody does simulation better than Vegas.
Quick, call Prior. You just got comped at the noodle bar.
Yes, it took a little more research for you to find the perfect new home than it does for your run-of-the-mill, healthy, likely to pitch with the big club free agent. All they have to be concerned with is whether the Indians are offering free tickets to the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, whether signing with the Nationals runs the risk of having their rather peculiar habit of wearing women’s underwear reported by Murphy Brown on FYI, and whether they will be embarrassed that Rangers or Astros fans may discover, upon their arrival, that management has thrown the entire concept of everything is bigger in Texas right out the window with their signing. You have to be concerned with the important stuff… like whether the rickety team bus will be driven by Ralph Kramden or Otto.
Good luck.
***Today's pop culture trivia: What famous catch-phrase did Fozzie Bear end all of his jokes with?
Note: Once again, my days are all messed up. Despite the fact that this post is dated Tuesday, it was written last night and is actually Monday's effort. I will, once again, do my best to get something new up this afternoon (for Tuesday). Stupid work...cramping my style.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Friday, June 23, 2006
Aren't the Pansies Beautiful?
More than satisfied with the White Sox recent offensive outburst and delighted that the team pulled to within a single game of the AL Central leading Detroit Tigers, Ozzie Guillen spent the better part of Thursday afternoon reading to sick kids in the hospital. He then stopped by the retirement home to cheer up the elderly with his juggling routines and a few silly card tricks before heading home to plant some lovely daisies in the garden. “Oh no!” he exclaimed upon seeing a touch of chipped paint on the white picket fence that surrounds the duck pond. Less than five minutes later the fence was good as new! Before heading to the ballpark for the game, he took just a minute to look back upon his day and he smiled. The little engine that could made it up the hill yet again, the old folks giggled and clapped at the ol’ hidden seven of spades trick, and the brand new daisies looked absolutely perfect next to the roses and the pansies.
Oh, how he loves those pansies.
What? Were you expecting more Random Thoughts criticism of the Sox skipper? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not find out what colorful descriptions he might have for a middle-aged, Jewish, die-hard Cubs fan. I fear that it just might rhyme with blimey.
Ozzie wants to assure us that he is, in fact, not a homophobe. In fact, in his “apology,” he stated that he has "no problem with those people.” Nice choice of words, huh? Really think about it. If Tony LaRussa or any other Caucasian manager referred to Hispanic ballplayers as “those people,” Jesse Jackson would immediately demand that he be fired without even allowing him an opportunity to make up some lame ass excuse about how everyone is misinterpreting what he has said. Yet, we have been so chilled by Ozzie’s use of that one particular word that other questionable statements are slipping right past us. And it happens all the time with Ozzie. How many of you realize that, after the Jason Grimsley fiasco broke, not only did Ozzie remark that Grimsley is a criminal (a statement that was well reported), but he also publicly commented that Grimsley "should be shot” (a statement that was not so well reported). Better be careful, Ozzie, Chavez may not realize that you are kidding. Look, if I find poor Jason in a Scottsdale dumpster, I’m calling the team from CSI: The Valley of the Sun (what do you mean there is no CSI: The Valley of the Sun? I thought CBS’ entire lineup now consisted of 60 Minutes, Survivor and 86 differnet CSI spin-off shows).
Most disgusting is the fact that Ozzie’s statement that Grimsley ought to be shot was not made concerning the former Diamondbacks’ pitcher’s use and distribution of HGH. Oh no, Ozzie was angered that Grimsley had violated the code of the locker room and sold out those whom he named in the affidavit (the "Code of the Locker Room" being only slightly less sacred that the "Code of the Schoolyard," which mandates that if Nelson Muntz bullies you, takes your lunch money and sends you rolling home stuffed in a garbage can, your only response is to visit Herman the military antiques store owner and wage a water balloon war against Nelson and his cronies). Hey, I know Ozzie is all tough and everything and is not afraid of anyone or anything (“I shall fight you to the death Mothra!”), but I’d be willing to bet that if Jack Bauer showed up at your door with a case of HGH that had your name on it, you’d sing too.
Or maybe he would just order a poor rookie pitcher to throw a baseball at him.
But, let’s not forget that Ozzie has indisputable proof that he is not a homophobe. After all, he likes the Indigo Girls as much as the next guy, once watched at least 12 minutes of an episode of Queer as Folk, and his wife’s best friend is gay (okay, so I made up the first two… the third, however, is pure Ozzie). Wait a minute, his wife’s best friend is gay? His wife’s? Best friend? Gay?
What in the heck were we talking about again?
All kidding aside, and I really hate to beat a dead horse here but just cannot seem to put my whip aside, at this point, we can only hope that the MLB-mandated sensitivity training will finally open Ozzie’s eyes. I have no idea whether his insistence on being major league baseball’s outspoken answer to Tanner Boyle (who once infamously referred to his talent challenged teammates as a “bunch of jews, spicks, niggers, pansies and a booger-eating moron.” – Who knew that Tri-Lam Dudley Dawson was on the Bears?) is predisposed or whether he actually only knows 30 words in the English language (six curse words, 21 derogatory racial slurs, Cubs, retaliation, and enemy***) and simply cannot help himself. Either way, I am no longer interested in the excuse the Ozzie is just being Ozzie. In my mind, Ozzie is just being an asshole. It is really that simple.
* In the opening line of this post, I mentioned that his White Sox have enjoyed an offensive outburst recently. Unfortunately, “outburst” may not be quite the right word. In fact, I have not seen this much offensive activity since Prince Harry and his buddies decided that it would be a good idea to remind everyone that approximately 6 million jews were killed by Hitler and his Nazi regime by wearing a swastika and a Wehrmacht emblem to a costume party. Do you realize that prior to Thursday night’s 1-0 win over the Cardinals, the Sox had scored 69 runs in their last six games? To put this in perspective, in a four-and-one-half week stretch from late April until the end of May, the Cubs only managed 66 runs in 27 games. And that was with all-world slugger and trophy off-season free agent acquisition John Mabry and his Ted Williams-esque swing. Let those stats really sink in for a minute............ Sixty-nine runs in six games? What is this 16-inch softball at the park? How many beers did they have to chug after reaching second base?
* Yesterday, I mentioned that a majority of teams in major league baseball were either red hot like Rockford Peach shortstop Ellen Sue Gotlander or decidedly not ala Marla Hooch. As long as I am paying proper tribute to the All American Girl’s Professional Baseball League, let me take it one step further. I am sorry to report that in yesterday's post, I forgot to mention both the Mae Mordabito of MLB, the Baltimore Orioles, who with a 5.23 ERA are letting everyone score without even having to buy dinner first, and the Doris Murphy of the major leagues, who happens to be none other than our beloved Cubs. Why equate the Cubs with Doris Murphy, you ask? Because just like Rosie O’Donnell who played Ms. Murphy in the 1992 Penny Marshall film, for the majority of the season, they have been both incredibly unattractive and horrendously annoying to watch.
Darling little Stillwell? Why, Darren Baker, of course!
And would somebody please introduce Sean Tracey, who shall forever more be known as the human faucet, to Jimmy Dugan.
* Last night, the Marlins defeated the Orioles 8-5, with the game-winning run having scored on a Miguel Cabrera single. A single that was achieved despite the fact that Baltimore reliever Todd Williams was intentionally walking Cabrera at the time. Apparently, the pitch was not quite far enough off the plate, prompting Cabrera to whack it into center field, driving home the eventual game-winning run. Nice to see that Kelly Leak’s spirit lives on. I wonder if Cabrera drives a Harley, smokes Marlboros and hits on older women (why not just head to Mae's house and save yourself any real effort?)
* I recognize that the Diesel was probably knee-deep in Cristal following Miami’s championship-sealing victory in Game 6 of the NBA Finals, but one still has to raise an eyebrow at a few of his comments after the game. First, Shaq noted that Heat coach Pat Riley is “the best coach that I have ever played for.” Hmmm… I guess Shaq favors Armani suits, hair gel direct from Paris, and stabbing your friend in the back by taking over the reigns of a team that said friend had coached to within a game of the NBA Finals a year earlier over Native American peace pipes, mystical revitalizing gel straight from a Zen garden in the Orient, and stabbing your wife in the back by running off with the owner’s daughter. And what about Kurt Rambis? Where is the love for the big man with the Buddy Holly specs?
And then there is Shaq’s comment about Dwyanye Wade as the “greatest basketball player in history.” Look, I admit that I have been rather harsh in my comments regarding Wade, refusing to jump on the "best player in the NBA" bandwagon. And now, after watching his performance in the Finals, I have to admit that, despite those two crucial missed free throws that kept the door open for Dallas in Game 6, he is a terrific player who has positioned himself as one of the top players in the league. He also seems to be a mature, level-headed individual who will represent his team and the league well in the future. But…
The greatest player in NBA history? Um, excuse me, Mr. O’Neal, but you seem to be forgetting about a certain player who helped lead the Chicago Bulls to championships in the 90’s. A player who was born in New York. A player who also won an NCAA championship (but, despite his greatness, was still not the Most Outstanding Player in the Final Four). A player who was selected #3 in the NBA draft, behind an overrated 7’0 center whose NBA career was severely hampered by a series of knee and leg injuries. A player who along with being an able shooter (with a career FG percentage hovering around 50%), was also able to go to the rim, and was named to the NBA’s All-Defense team on more than one occasion. Hello, Shaquille? Ever heard of a guy named Rodney McCray?
* Finally, it is a dang good thing that Tail Chaser Anderson caught semi-fire in his last seven games before the start of his five-game suspension. During that time, Anderson went 8-27 to raise his batting average from an embarrassing .152 to an almost equally embarrassing .178. Now, anyone who has played baseball on a semi-professional level will tell you that there is nothing more embarrassing than failing to hit your own weight (poor Cecil Fielder never had a chance, while Augie Ojeda only had to top out at a measley .115 or so). With his recent “hot” streak (and I use that term very loosely; 8-27 would be an Artic cold spell for a real hitter), Anderson is now only 37 points below his weight. Keep up such hot hitting and he will make it to his goal in no time. Go for the gusto Brian! First the Mendoza Line and then the Holy Grail… .215. Nah, screw that. I’ve watched you try and hit. If I were you, I’d go the easy route and up the dose of Stacker 2. Either that or reschedule that planned meeting with Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. You’ll be down to 170 lbs or so in no time!
Have a great weekend everyone!!
***Today’s Ozzie trivia: In an expletive-laced tirade (is there any other kind with the Sox manager?), Ozzie once referred to a former White Sox player as the “enemy.” Who was that former player?
Oh, how he loves those pansies.
What? Were you expecting more Random Thoughts criticism of the Sox skipper? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not find out what colorful descriptions he might have for a middle-aged, Jewish, die-hard Cubs fan. I fear that it just might rhyme with blimey.
Ozzie wants to assure us that he is, in fact, not a homophobe. In fact, in his “apology,” he stated that he has "no problem with those people.” Nice choice of words, huh? Really think about it. If Tony LaRussa or any other Caucasian manager referred to Hispanic ballplayers as “those people,” Jesse Jackson would immediately demand that he be fired without even allowing him an opportunity to make up some lame ass excuse about how everyone is misinterpreting what he has said. Yet, we have been so chilled by Ozzie’s use of that one particular word that other questionable statements are slipping right past us. And it happens all the time with Ozzie. How many of you realize that, after the Jason Grimsley fiasco broke, not only did Ozzie remark that Grimsley is a criminal (a statement that was well reported), but he also publicly commented that Grimsley "should be shot” (a statement that was not so well reported). Better be careful, Ozzie, Chavez may not realize that you are kidding. Look, if I find poor Jason in a Scottsdale dumpster, I’m calling the team from CSI: The Valley of the Sun (what do you mean there is no CSI: The Valley of the Sun? I thought CBS’ entire lineup now consisted of 60 Minutes, Survivor and 86 differnet CSI spin-off shows).
Most disgusting is the fact that Ozzie’s statement that Grimsley ought to be shot was not made concerning the former Diamondbacks’ pitcher’s use and distribution of HGH. Oh no, Ozzie was angered that Grimsley had violated the code of the locker room and sold out those whom he named in the affidavit (the "Code of the Locker Room" being only slightly less sacred that the "Code of the Schoolyard," which mandates that if Nelson Muntz bullies you, takes your lunch money and sends you rolling home stuffed in a garbage can, your only response is to visit Herman the military antiques store owner and wage a water balloon war against Nelson and his cronies). Hey, I know Ozzie is all tough and everything and is not afraid of anyone or anything (“I shall fight you to the death Mothra!”), but I’d be willing to bet that if Jack Bauer showed up at your door with a case of HGH that had your name on it, you’d sing too.
Or maybe he would just order a poor rookie pitcher to throw a baseball at him.
But, let’s not forget that Ozzie has indisputable proof that he is not a homophobe. After all, he likes the Indigo Girls as much as the next guy, once watched at least 12 minutes of an episode of Queer as Folk, and his wife’s best friend is gay (okay, so I made up the first two… the third, however, is pure Ozzie). Wait a minute, his wife’s best friend is gay? His wife’s? Best friend? Gay?
What in the heck were we talking about again?
All kidding aside, and I really hate to beat a dead horse here but just cannot seem to put my whip aside, at this point, we can only hope that the MLB-mandated sensitivity training will finally open Ozzie’s eyes. I have no idea whether his insistence on being major league baseball’s outspoken answer to Tanner Boyle (who once infamously referred to his talent challenged teammates as a “bunch of jews, spicks, niggers, pansies and a booger-eating moron.” – Who knew that Tri-Lam Dudley Dawson was on the Bears?) is predisposed or whether he actually only knows 30 words in the English language (six curse words, 21 derogatory racial slurs, Cubs, retaliation, and enemy***) and simply cannot help himself. Either way, I am no longer interested in the excuse the Ozzie is just being Ozzie. In my mind, Ozzie is just being an asshole. It is really that simple.
* In the opening line of this post, I mentioned that his White Sox have enjoyed an offensive outburst recently. Unfortunately, “outburst” may not be quite the right word. In fact, I have not seen this much offensive activity since Prince Harry and his buddies decided that it would be a good idea to remind everyone that approximately 6 million jews were killed by Hitler and his Nazi regime by wearing a swastika and a Wehrmacht emblem to a costume party. Do you realize that prior to Thursday night’s 1-0 win over the Cardinals, the Sox had scored 69 runs in their last six games? To put this in perspective, in a four-and-one-half week stretch from late April until the end of May, the Cubs only managed 66 runs in 27 games. And that was with all-world slugger and trophy off-season free agent acquisition John Mabry and his Ted Williams-esque swing. Let those stats really sink in for a minute............ Sixty-nine runs in six games? What is this 16-inch softball at the park? How many beers did they have to chug after reaching second base?
* Yesterday, I mentioned that a majority of teams in major league baseball were either red hot like Rockford Peach shortstop Ellen Sue Gotlander or decidedly not ala Marla Hooch. As long as I am paying proper tribute to the All American Girl’s Professional Baseball League, let me take it one step further. I am sorry to report that in yesterday's post, I forgot to mention both the Mae Mordabito of MLB, the Baltimore Orioles, who with a 5.23 ERA are letting everyone score without even having to buy dinner first, and the Doris Murphy of the major leagues, who happens to be none other than our beloved Cubs. Why equate the Cubs with Doris Murphy, you ask? Because just like Rosie O’Donnell who played Ms. Murphy in the 1992 Penny Marshall film, for the majority of the season, they have been both incredibly unattractive and horrendously annoying to watch.
Darling little Stillwell? Why, Darren Baker, of course!
And would somebody please introduce Sean Tracey, who shall forever more be known as the human faucet, to Jimmy Dugan.
* Last night, the Marlins defeated the Orioles 8-5, with the game-winning run having scored on a Miguel Cabrera single. A single that was achieved despite the fact that Baltimore reliever Todd Williams was intentionally walking Cabrera at the time. Apparently, the pitch was not quite far enough off the plate, prompting Cabrera to whack it into center field, driving home the eventual game-winning run. Nice to see that Kelly Leak’s spirit lives on. I wonder if Cabrera drives a Harley, smokes Marlboros and hits on older women (why not just head to Mae's house and save yourself any real effort?)
* I recognize that the Diesel was probably knee-deep in Cristal following Miami’s championship-sealing victory in Game 6 of the NBA Finals, but one still has to raise an eyebrow at a few of his comments after the game. First, Shaq noted that Heat coach Pat Riley is “the best coach that I have ever played for.” Hmmm… I guess Shaq favors Armani suits, hair gel direct from Paris, and stabbing your friend in the back by taking over the reigns of a team that said friend had coached to within a game of the NBA Finals a year earlier over Native American peace pipes, mystical revitalizing gel straight from a Zen garden in the Orient, and stabbing your wife in the back by running off with the owner’s daughter. And what about Kurt Rambis? Where is the love for the big man with the Buddy Holly specs?
And then there is Shaq’s comment about Dwyanye Wade as the “greatest basketball player in history.” Look, I admit that I have been rather harsh in my comments regarding Wade, refusing to jump on the "best player in the NBA" bandwagon. And now, after watching his performance in the Finals, I have to admit that, despite those two crucial missed free throws that kept the door open for Dallas in Game 6, he is a terrific player who has positioned himself as one of the top players in the league. He also seems to be a mature, level-headed individual who will represent his team and the league well in the future. But…
The greatest player in NBA history? Um, excuse me, Mr. O’Neal, but you seem to be forgetting about a certain player who helped lead the Chicago Bulls to championships in the 90’s. A player who was born in New York. A player who also won an NCAA championship (but, despite his greatness, was still not the Most Outstanding Player in the Final Four). A player who was selected #3 in the NBA draft, behind an overrated 7’0 center whose NBA career was severely hampered by a series of knee and leg injuries. A player who along with being an able shooter (with a career FG percentage hovering around 50%), was also able to go to the rim, and was named to the NBA’s All-Defense team on more than one occasion. Hello, Shaquille? Ever heard of a guy named Rodney McCray?
* Finally, it is a dang good thing that Tail Chaser Anderson caught semi-fire in his last seven games before the start of his five-game suspension. During that time, Anderson went 8-27 to raise his batting average from an embarrassing .152 to an almost equally embarrassing .178. Now, anyone who has played baseball on a semi-professional level will tell you that there is nothing more embarrassing than failing to hit your own weight (poor Cecil Fielder never had a chance, while Augie Ojeda only had to top out at a measley .115 or so). With his recent “hot” streak (and I use that term very loosely; 8-27 would be an Artic cold spell for a real hitter), Anderson is now only 37 points below his weight. Keep up such hot hitting and he will make it to his goal in no time. Go for the gusto Brian! First the Mendoza Line and then the Holy Grail… .215. Nah, screw that. I’ve watched you try and hit. If I were you, I’d go the easy route and up the dose of Stacker 2. Either that or reschedule that planned meeting with Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. You’ll be down to 170 lbs or so in no time!
Have a great weekend everyone!!
***Today’s Ozzie trivia: In an expletive-laced tirade (is there any other kind with the Sox manager?), Ozzie once referred to a former White Sox player as the “enemy.” Who was that former player?
Thursday, June 22, 2006
We're Going Streaking!!!
As spring morphs into summer, teams throughout major league baseball are basically falling into one of two buckets. Either their dynamite play reminds us of sizzling hot former Miss Georgia Ellen Sue Gatlander or their on field incompetence is making us recoil in horror as if we had been paired with Marla Hooch during a Champagne Snowball (without a whole lot of on-again, off-again Kit Kellers included in the mix). On one side of the coin, you have teams like the White Sox, winners of six straight and 10 of 12, the Twins, victors in 10 of their last 12, and the Florida Minnows/ Toddlers/ Flying Joe Girardis, who after starting the season 11-31, have won 19 of their last 26 games, including nine straight before yesterday’s loss to Baltimore. And to think that you can take the entire Florida payroll and still not come close to being able to afford to pay Angelina Jolie enough to make a stupid video-game knockoff movie that only 12-year old pimply faced boys and 45-year old comic book store owners will actually go and see. Heck, even the Kansas City Royals have won four of their last five, a feat that ranks just below the forthcoming Random Thoughts compliment of Dee Brown on the “you have got to be kidding me” scale (it’s coming…).
On the other side of the fence, you have the Montreal Washington National Expos, losers of 8 of their last 10, the Cleveland Indians who have lost 10 of their last 12, including two of three to the Cubs, and the Arizona Diamondbacks, who are a 2000-01 Chicago Bulls-esque 2-14 since tattletale Jason Grimsley became the most hated man in Arizona since Dee Brown lead the Illini to an improbable 15-point comeback in the 2005 NCAA Elite Eight against Lute Olson’s Wildcats (there it is! Whoo hoo!!). I haven’t seen tattling cause so much anger and hurt feelings since Sam thought Alice was having an affair with the postman thanks to idiot Cindy’s big mouth.
Sheesh Sam, calm down. She had just won a groovy hi-fi stereo! At long last, she can listen to Marcia’s Davy Jones’ records. Heck, I’d kiss the postman, too (oh, please don’t let Ozzie read that…).
Most surprising is the utter collapse currently being experienced by the Atlanta Braves. Winners of 14 consecutive NL East championships, the Braves enter play today losers of 19 of their last 22 games (including 9 in a row) and now sit 14.5 games out of first in sixth and last place in the division. Things have gotten so bad in Atlanta that longtime Brave John Smoltz has informed the team that he will accept a trade if it means helping the ballclub (watch Kenny Williams end up landing Smoltz for a churro and a Nancy Faust Greatest Hits album -- watch Jim Hendry offer nothing more than the rights to David Kelton). Smoltz is the only remaining Brave from the all-time great pitching staffs of the 90’s and his departure is sure to officially end what has been a truly remarkable era. First Steve Avery was let ago, prompting a signing with Boston where his pitching talent inexplicitly disappeared more quickly than Allen Iverson when he hears a siren and sees flashing lights (you know, Avery’s departure from MLB occurred right around the same time as Gopherball Glendon’s arrival in Chicago…hmmmm). Then Kevin Millwood was jettisoned to Philadephia where he has become just another run-of-the-mill pitcher. Next, Tom Glavine took his union card and hockey stick to the Big Apple, where he is 10-2 this season for the Mets. And finally, Greg Maddux conned the Cubs into believing that his savvy, pitching smarts and 63-mph fastball could continue to fool major league hitters for another couple of years. Whoops.
Perhaps the most significant missing ingredient from the Braves glory years is pitching coach Leo Mazzone, who left Bobby Cox’s staff after more than 35 years of gently rocking back and forth in the Braves’ dugout. Mazzone is largely considered one of baseball’s best pitching coaches and the Braves’ astronomical ERA this year (4.86 – good for 25th in all baseball) is no coincidence. The lesson to be learned, which I have tried to teach in past posts of the Random Thoughts is that a pitching coach is akin to the movie The Usual Suspects -- not to be overrated. The Braves are learning the same hard lesson the Sox learned during the Nardi Contreras years (before the whiz that is Don Cooper arrived on the South Side) . The Cubs? Well, if they ever put down the cell phone and sponsorship contract long enough to realize that their young pitchers continue to show little command and even less ability to make game-to-game adjustments, they might realize that keeping Larry Rothschild on staff makes about as much sense as keeping Thing Two on the roster… or keeping Gopherball Glendon on the pitching staff… or not playing Phil Nevin everyday. You know, somebody really needs to buy Dennis Fitzsimmons and Andy McPhail a gift certificate to Clues-R-Us. And quick.
* Apparently, the New York Daily News reported that Yankees’ head honcho George Steinbrenner has asked that General Manager Brian Cashman look into the possibility of acquiring Einstein Jones from the Cubs (once you get over the initial shock of the above statement, try and remember that Steinbrenner is the same guy who hired a middle-age bald man who wanted to join a Latvian Orthodix Church simply because he liked the hats – way to go on the trivia “sox fan joe” -- as the team’s assistant to the traveling secretary).
Are you kidding me? Can this possibly be true? Hello, Christmas in July! I fully realize that Jones has raised his average to .296 and has 13 home runs and 36 RBI, but getting the Cubs out from under Jones’ 3-year/ $12 million contract would rank right up there with the December 2002 trade of Todd Hundley as one of the greatest deals in Cubs’ history (look, it is not a particularly long list). Can you imagine getting a right fielder that can actually throw the ball further than “theson?” And, no, it doesn’t matter what they get in return. It’s New York. A bag of fresh bagels or a couple of tickets to Cats would work. Heck, even a pre-controversy family photo of a smiling Woody Allen, Mia Farrow and Soon-Yi ought to do the trick.
* No, Mark Prior was not very good in his return to the majors. But, hey, let’s try to be optimistic and, for once, look on the bright side. The Tigers may have put up six in the first inning, but at least they missed the extra point.
Was that Carlos Huerta I saw in Tigers’ blue and orange?
* Oh Ozzie…why can’t you keep your mouth shut for just a few minutes? Can you really be that eager to see your name in the Random Thoughts? There certainly is no problem with that, but how about trying a different approach? Invite Jessica Alba to throw out the first pitch at a home game (now that I think of it, for a measly $10,000 she can probably buy herself the opportunity). Invite Jessica Biel to drag the infield (Thing One and Thing Two…meet Hottie One and Hottie Two…) Enter the U.S. Rock Paper Scissors Championship. Quit your job (like you said you would if the Sox won the World Series) and move back to Venezuela to teach children the English language, take a role as a soap opera hunk, or accept a position as Hugo Chavez’s official lapdog. Anything other than opening your mouth.
Look, I know that you hate Jay Mariotti. The whole world knows that you hate Jay Mariotti. Shoot, even I hate Jay Mariotti. The guy is obnoxious. He’s Chicago’s very own Rita Skeeter, somplete with a Quik Quotes Quill. I mean he couldn’t even keep a job as a host on ESPN Radio 1000, where even Silvy and Carmen plug along despite offering less sports insight than Joe Carter during his ill-advised run as a Cubs broadcaster. But, no matter how much you dislike him, you cannot under any circumstances use a derogatory term that everyone in my country immediately recognizes as referring to a homosexual to describe him. It’s just plain stupid and puts you in the same team picture as John Rocker. And in case you need a reminder, that’s like Ramadi -- not a particularly nice place to be.
Yes, I have heard your lame excuse. That in your country, that particular term means something completely different. Well, you know what Ozzie, I have said it before and I will say it again, you are now a citizen of this country. You make a living in this country. You rely on the public services of this country. You eat at McDonald’s, shop at the Gap and watch American Idol. If you do not like it, go back to Venezuela, go on a safari in Kenya, go deep sea driving off the coast of Australia, or just lock yourself in a cabin in Saskatchewan. I don’t [bleeping] care where the [bleep] you [bleeping] go, but if you do not want to [bleeping] play by our [bleeping] rules, get the [bleep] out.
I just thought that I would put it in a language that maybe you can understand.
Have a nice [bleeping] day…
***I apologize for the delay in this post, but, unfortunately, I seem to have lost my internet access at home and had to write it in Word and upload it onto the site this morning. So, technically, this is Wednesday's post as it was written last night.
I hope to finish a new Thursday ost at some point today, but it may be more likely that I get it done tonight and post it tomorrow morning. I suppose only time will tell. Thanks to all of you who keep checking the site. You just never know when a new batch of Random Thoughts are going to come spilling out of my head.
On the other side of the fence, you have the Montreal Washington National Expos, losers of 8 of their last 10, the Cleveland Indians who have lost 10 of their last 12, including two of three to the Cubs, and the Arizona Diamondbacks, who are a 2000-01 Chicago Bulls-esque 2-14 since tattletale Jason Grimsley became the most hated man in Arizona since Dee Brown lead the Illini to an improbable 15-point comeback in the 2005 NCAA Elite Eight against Lute Olson’s Wildcats (there it is! Whoo hoo!!). I haven’t seen tattling cause so much anger and hurt feelings since Sam thought Alice was having an affair with the postman thanks to idiot Cindy’s big mouth.
Sheesh Sam, calm down. She had just won a groovy hi-fi stereo! At long last, she can listen to Marcia’s Davy Jones’ records. Heck, I’d kiss the postman, too (oh, please don’t let Ozzie read that…).
Most surprising is the utter collapse currently being experienced by the Atlanta Braves. Winners of 14 consecutive NL East championships, the Braves enter play today losers of 19 of their last 22 games (including 9 in a row) and now sit 14.5 games out of first in sixth and last place in the division. Things have gotten so bad in Atlanta that longtime Brave John Smoltz has informed the team that he will accept a trade if it means helping the ballclub (watch Kenny Williams end up landing Smoltz for a churro and a Nancy Faust Greatest Hits album -- watch Jim Hendry offer nothing more than the rights to David Kelton). Smoltz is the only remaining Brave from the all-time great pitching staffs of the 90’s and his departure is sure to officially end what has been a truly remarkable era. First Steve Avery was let ago, prompting a signing with Boston where his pitching talent inexplicitly disappeared more quickly than Allen Iverson when he hears a siren and sees flashing lights (you know, Avery’s departure from MLB occurred right around the same time as Gopherball Glendon’s arrival in Chicago…hmmmm). Then Kevin Millwood was jettisoned to Philadephia where he has become just another run-of-the-mill pitcher. Next, Tom Glavine took his union card and hockey stick to the Big Apple, where he is 10-2 this season for the Mets. And finally, Greg Maddux conned the Cubs into believing that his savvy, pitching smarts and 63-mph fastball could continue to fool major league hitters for another couple of years. Whoops.
Perhaps the most significant missing ingredient from the Braves glory years is pitching coach Leo Mazzone, who left Bobby Cox’s staff after more than 35 years of gently rocking back and forth in the Braves’ dugout. Mazzone is largely considered one of baseball’s best pitching coaches and the Braves’ astronomical ERA this year (4.86 – good for 25th in all baseball) is no coincidence. The lesson to be learned, which I have tried to teach in past posts of the Random Thoughts is that a pitching coach is akin to the movie The Usual Suspects -- not to be overrated. The Braves are learning the same hard lesson the Sox learned during the Nardi Contreras years (before the whiz that is Don Cooper arrived on the South Side) . The Cubs? Well, if they ever put down the cell phone and sponsorship contract long enough to realize that their young pitchers continue to show little command and even less ability to make game-to-game adjustments, they might realize that keeping Larry Rothschild on staff makes about as much sense as keeping Thing Two on the roster… or keeping Gopherball Glendon on the pitching staff… or not playing Phil Nevin everyday. You know, somebody really needs to buy Dennis Fitzsimmons and Andy McPhail a gift certificate to Clues-R-Us. And quick.
* Apparently, the New York Daily News reported that Yankees’ head honcho George Steinbrenner has asked that General Manager Brian Cashman look into the possibility of acquiring Einstein Jones from the Cubs (once you get over the initial shock of the above statement, try and remember that Steinbrenner is the same guy who hired a middle-age bald man who wanted to join a Latvian Orthodix Church simply because he liked the hats – way to go on the trivia “sox fan joe” -- as the team’s assistant to the traveling secretary).
Are you kidding me? Can this possibly be true? Hello, Christmas in July! I fully realize that Jones has raised his average to .296 and has 13 home runs and 36 RBI, but getting the Cubs out from under Jones’ 3-year/ $12 million contract would rank right up there with the December 2002 trade of Todd Hundley as one of the greatest deals in Cubs’ history (look, it is not a particularly long list). Can you imagine getting a right fielder that can actually throw the ball further than “theson?” And, no, it doesn’t matter what they get in return. It’s New York. A bag of fresh bagels or a couple of tickets to Cats would work. Heck, even a pre-controversy family photo of a smiling Woody Allen, Mia Farrow and Soon-Yi ought to do the trick.
* No, Mark Prior was not very good in his return to the majors. But, hey, let’s try to be optimistic and, for once, look on the bright side. The Tigers may have put up six in the first inning, but at least they missed the extra point.
Was that Carlos Huerta I saw in Tigers’ blue and orange?
* Oh Ozzie…why can’t you keep your mouth shut for just a few minutes? Can you really be that eager to see your name in the Random Thoughts? There certainly is no problem with that, but how about trying a different approach? Invite Jessica Alba to throw out the first pitch at a home game (now that I think of it, for a measly $10,000 she can probably buy herself the opportunity). Invite Jessica Biel to drag the infield (Thing One and Thing Two…meet Hottie One and Hottie Two…) Enter the U.S. Rock Paper Scissors Championship. Quit your job (like you said you would if the Sox won the World Series) and move back to Venezuela to teach children the English language, take a role as a soap opera hunk, or accept a position as Hugo Chavez’s official lapdog. Anything other than opening your mouth.
Look, I know that you hate Jay Mariotti. The whole world knows that you hate Jay Mariotti. Shoot, even I hate Jay Mariotti. The guy is obnoxious. He’s Chicago’s very own Rita Skeeter, somplete with a Quik Quotes Quill. I mean he couldn’t even keep a job as a host on ESPN Radio 1000, where even Silvy and Carmen plug along despite offering less sports insight than Joe Carter during his ill-advised run as a Cubs broadcaster. But, no matter how much you dislike him, you cannot under any circumstances use a derogatory term that everyone in my country immediately recognizes as referring to a homosexual to describe him. It’s just plain stupid and puts you in the same team picture as John Rocker. And in case you need a reminder, that’s like Ramadi -- not a particularly nice place to be.
Yes, I have heard your lame excuse. That in your country, that particular term means something completely different. Well, you know what Ozzie, I have said it before and I will say it again, you are now a citizen of this country. You make a living in this country. You rely on the public services of this country. You eat at McDonald’s, shop at the Gap and watch American Idol. If you do not like it, go back to Venezuela, go on a safari in Kenya, go deep sea driving off the coast of Australia, or just lock yourself in a cabin in Saskatchewan. I don’t [bleeping] care where the [bleep] you [bleeping] go, but if you do not want to [bleeping] play by our [bleeping] rules, get the [bleep] out.
I just thought that I would put it in a language that maybe you can understand.
Have a nice [bleeping] day…
***I apologize for the delay in this post, but, unfortunately, I seem to have lost my internet access at home and had to write it in Word and upload it onto the site this morning. So, technically, this is Wednesday's post as it was written last night.
I hope to finish a new Thursday ost at some point today, but it may be more likely that I get it done tonight and post it tomorrow morning. I suppose only time will tell. Thanks to all of you who keep checking the site. You just never know when a new batch of Random Thoughts are going to come spilling out of my head.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Kicking and Screaming
Last Saturday afternoon was an especially difficult day for a patriotic American sports fan, such as myself. With only one television available and no picture-in-picture, choosing what to watch was not an easy task. On one network, the U.S. national soccer team was trying desperately to keep hope alive against Italy, while on another Colin Montgomerie was positioned to make a run at the first major golf title of his career. Do I focus on America's collection of athletes who were just not quite good enough or big enough to play a real man's sport -- American football -- during the high school fall season or do I watch whether Scotland's biggest embarrassment since the kilt can make history at Winged Foot Golf Club? Not an easy choice.
Ultimately, I wound up spending the majority of my time watching the soccer game. A week or so ago, I admitted in this space that I thoroughly enjoy the World Cup and, despite a lot of frustration and anger Saturday, I came away from the game with an even greater respect and appreciation for what is truly one of the most exciting and unique events on the sports calendar. I can think of no other event that triggers such intense national pride and that unites a country in quite the same way. It is truly remarkable.
Now, while I do enjoy the World Cup, I still don’t feel completely comfortable describing myself as a soccer fan and I do not pretend to fully understand the intricacies of the sport. That said, you can bet that I came away from the U.S.’s 1-1 tie with Italy with plenty to say. First and foremost, anyone who tries to argue that officiating cannot have a major impact on the flow and outcome of a sporting event probably also thinks that Jack Black will win an Oscar for his performance in Nacho Libre. Either that or their name is Vladimir Kondrashin and they keep the 1972 men's basketball Olympic gold medal that rightfully belongs around the neck of Doug Collins or Henry Iba right next to a bottle of vodka and an old Gorky Park cassette in the top drawer of their nightstand. Absolutley nobody who watched the game can argue that the U.S. completely controlled the play for the better part of the first half. In fact, the majority of the first 45 minutes was spent on the American half of the field. At one point, I think I may have seen U.S. goalkeeper Kasey Keller sitting in a lawn chair, sipping a lemonade and reading Crime and Punishment. And then, without warning, Jorge Larrionda decided that he would be story.
Who is Jorge Larrionda, you ask? Well, ultimately, in my mind, he is Uruguay's answer to renowned New York Knick fan Hue Hollins. For those of you who lost a bet and had to actually go and pay good money to see Nacho Libre on Saturday, Larrionda turned the entire game on its head by giving an extremely questionable red card to U.S. midfielder Pablo Mastroeni and following it up by giving an equally absurd card to defender Eddie Pope. As a result, the U.S. was forced to play the rest of the game with only nine players while the Italians had ten, a scenario which understandably eliminated any chance that the U.S. had to score a go ahead goal. How bad were the calls? Well, let's just say that compared with Larrionda's decisions, the foul call sending Dwanye Wade to the line for the game winning free throws Sunday night, seems justifiable. And that, in my opinion, was a really bad call.
In fact, I sort of felt like I was watching a Big Ten basketball game. Yes, it was that bad.
I can only hope that FIFA has some sort of a disciplinary structure in place. The bottom line is that Larrionda should be punished for his poor decision making. Look, I am not claiming that he should join Raskolnikov in a Siberian labor camp, nor do I even think that he should be forced to endure the pure mental anguish that haunted Dostoevsky's protagonist, but the next soccer game he should be allowed to officiate better be between the Bayside High School Tigers and their rival the Valley Bulldogs.
* And believe it or not, despite being unable to sustain any offensive pressure whatsoever, the U.S. would have won the game if not for a goal that was disallowed because the Americans were offside and "obstructing the goalkeeper." Offsides I can understand, but obstructing the goalkeeper? Isn't that kind of the point? I mean in a sport where there is all-too-often less scoring than at Sister Mary Alice's 80th birthday party (although Cosmo has had his eye on Sister Roberta and she is talking about leaving the church**) , you would think that rules would be instituted that would make it easier to score. Instead, the soccer powers that be seem insistent on making sure that soccer teams score about as often as the Cubs (before Henry Blanco's recent power surge, of course).
* Just wondering... What in the heck is up with the ball? Where is the good ol' black and white ball that we grew up with as kids? You know, the one with all the pentagons? You don't see major league baseball making changes to the tried and true white-with-red-stitching ball that we all love so much, do you? I mean besides for the tightening of the strands, the addition of the superball in the core and all the other things that Bud and his wonks are planning now that Jason Grimsley's affidavit has made MLB's final cash crop, HGH, officially obsolete.
* There is no doubt that a soccer player's endurance is second-to-none and, when all is said and done, I think it is accurate to say that most truly qualify as tough. That said, why do most soccer players insist on acting like they have broken all 206 bones of their body everytime they are knocked to the ground? I was mighty proud of the Americans who did not seem to resort to such tactics. The same cannot be said of the Italians. In fact, after the game, I reviewed the final statistics and noticed that Italy outshot the U.S. 10-8, had seven corner kicks to the U.S.'s three, and outpaced the Americans in needless stretchers used 7-0.
At least, when our guys got injured, they actually looked as if they had just skated a shift with the Hanson Brothers.
* I was disappointed, however, in U.S. coach Bruce Arena's apparent refusal to actually go for the win. With ten minutes of so left to play, it was quite clear that the players on both sides were extremely tired and play had gotten sloppy. What a perfect time, in my mind, to take advantage of your third and final substitution and replace a tired player with a set of fresh legs. Arena, however, did not want to replace an experienced player whom he could completely trust defensively with a younger player who may not be as savvy on the defensive end. In other words, Arena elected to simply play for the tie. Wait a minute, I thought this was America. Discounting Kentucky, of course, since when are we satisifed with kissing our sister when the Prom Queen is tantalizingly close? Bruce, Bruce, Bruce...to the victor goes the spoils.
* And as a result of the 1-1 tie, the U.S. now has to beat Ghana and hope that Italy defeats the Czech Republic for the Americans to advance to the round of 16. I suspect that the U.S. will knock off the Black Stars, but Italy will not hold up there end of the bargain finishing in a 1-1 tie with the Czechs.
* Finally (with regards to soccer and the World Cup), I thoroughly enjoyed the many traditions that accompany the actual game. Walking out of the tunnel side-by-side with your opponent, while holding the hand of a young child and standing at rapt attention and singing out loud during both country's national anthems are really neat things to watch. One of the most unique traditions, however, is the trading of jerseys after the match. How cool is that? So cool, that I am hoping that I can somehow do some legal work against an attorney from Donnell, Young, Dole and Frutt. Bobby was one hell of a dresser and I am sure that his Italian made suits sure beat the heck out of my Men's Wearhouse two for $399 specials. Sure, George Zimmer was right, I do like the way I look, but Bobby scored Lindsay and that is good enough for me.
* While, on Saturday I spent the majority of the afternoon watching the soccer game, Sunday was dedicated to the U.S. Open and Bill Parcells' er... Colin Montgomerie's attempts to become the single biggest ass to ever win a major golf tournament (and trust me, Nick Faldo is no Fred Rogers, although he does occasionally wear a cardigan sweater and has been known to play with trains).
A couple of observations about the U.S. Open...
* First and foremost, congratulations to Geoff Ogilvy on winning the championship. Sometimes it pays to be surrounded by complete ineptitude.
* I guess it is a good thing that Tiger Woods was not in contention on Sunday, as you just know that Tiger would not have imploded the way that almost everybody else did. Woods of course, did not even make the cut -- the first time that he has failed to do so in a major in his entire career. Facing a summer weekend with no plans, I can only assume that Tiger spent Saturday and Sunday with Elin Nordegren. Boo hoo.
Missing the cut ain't so bad, eh Tiger?
* Ty Webb was also not in contention on Sunday. Too bad. That guy can putt! Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah. Bub-bub-bub-bub-bub.
* Phil Mickelson, of course, was in contention and picked precisely the wrong time to turn back into the "can't win the big one, fold in the clutch Phil Mickelson." Not only did he make club choice decisions that left the entire golf world scratching their heads, but his execution left more than a little to be desired. One drive landed in a plastic waste can full of crushed beer cans. Another hit the hospitality tent. Heck, the only place that one of Phil's drives did not land was on Carl Spackler's coffee table.
* And that brings us to Mr. Parcells (crap, there I go again), er... Mr. Montgomerie (you tell me that they were not separated at birth). Upon double bogeying the 18th hole on Sunday, the television announcers stated "This is sad. This is difficult to watch.” Excuse me?
I, for one, could not have been happier about Monty's misfortune. This is a guy who speaks about America as Ozzie Guillen speaks about Sean Tracey. Sad? Difficult to watch? Only if you were hoping that Colin's collapse on 18 could be accompanied by a visit from the Legge family.
Back to more mainstream sports tomorrow...
***Today's pop culture trivia: What "affliction" did Cosmo claim to have that he said made him irresistible to women? What "remedy" was prescribed? What type of a church did Sister Roberta belong to?
Ultimately, I wound up spending the majority of my time watching the soccer game. A week or so ago, I admitted in this space that I thoroughly enjoy the World Cup and, despite a lot of frustration and anger Saturday, I came away from the game with an even greater respect and appreciation for what is truly one of the most exciting and unique events on the sports calendar. I can think of no other event that triggers such intense national pride and that unites a country in quite the same way. It is truly remarkable.
Now, while I do enjoy the World Cup, I still don’t feel completely comfortable describing myself as a soccer fan and I do not pretend to fully understand the intricacies of the sport. That said, you can bet that I came away from the U.S.’s 1-1 tie with Italy with plenty to say. First and foremost, anyone who tries to argue that officiating cannot have a major impact on the flow and outcome of a sporting event probably also thinks that Jack Black will win an Oscar for his performance in Nacho Libre. Either that or their name is Vladimir Kondrashin and they keep the 1972 men's basketball Olympic gold medal that rightfully belongs around the neck of Doug Collins or Henry Iba right next to a bottle of vodka and an old Gorky Park cassette in the top drawer of their nightstand. Absolutley nobody who watched the game can argue that the U.S. completely controlled the play for the better part of the first half. In fact, the majority of the first 45 minutes was spent on the American half of the field. At one point, I think I may have seen U.S. goalkeeper Kasey Keller sitting in a lawn chair, sipping a lemonade and reading Crime and Punishment. And then, without warning, Jorge Larrionda decided that he would be story.
Who is Jorge Larrionda, you ask? Well, ultimately, in my mind, he is Uruguay's answer to renowned New York Knick fan Hue Hollins. For those of you who lost a bet and had to actually go and pay good money to see Nacho Libre on Saturday, Larrionda turned the entire game on its head by giving an extremely questionable red card to U.S. midfielder Pablo Mastroeni and following it up by giving an equally absurd card to defender Eddie Pope. As a result, the U.S. was forced to play the rest of the game with only nine players while the Italians had ten, a scenario which understandably eliminated any chance that the U.S. had to score a go ahead goal. How bad were the calls? Well, let's just say that compared with Larrionda's decisions, the foul call sending Dwanye Wade to the line for the game winning free throws Sunday night, seems justifiable. And that, in my opinion, was a really bad call.
In fact, I sort of felt like I was watching a Big Ten basketball game. Yes, it was that bad.
I can only hope that FIFA has some sort of a disciplinary structure in place. The bottom line is that Larrionda should be punished for his poor decision making. Look, I am not claiming that he should join Raskolnikov in a Siberian labor camp, nor do I even think that he should be forced to endure the pure mental anguish that haunted Dostoevsky's protagonist, but the next soccer game he should be allowed to officiate better be between the Bayside High School Tigers and their rival the Valley Bulldogs.
* And believe it or not, despite being unable to sustain any offensive pressure whatsoever, the U.S. would have won the game if not for a goal that was disallowed because the Americans were offside and "obstructing the goalkeeper." Offsides I can understand, but obstructing the goalkeeper? Isn't that kind of the point? I mean in a sport where there is all-too-often less scoring than at Sister Mary Alice's 80th birthday party (although Cosmo has had his eye on Sister Roberta and she is talking about leaving the church**) , you would think that rules would be instituted that would make it easier to score. Instead, the soccer powers that be seem insistent on making sure that soccer teams score about as often as the Cubs (before Henry Blanco's recent power surge, of course).
* Just wondering... What in the heck is up with the ball? Where is the good ol' black and white ball that we grew up with as kids? You know, the one with all the pentagons? You don't see major league baseball making changes to the tried and true white-with-red-stitching ball that we all love so much, do you? I mean besides for the tightening of the strands, the addition of the superball in the core and all the other things that Bud and his wonks are planning now that Jason Grimsley's affidavit has made MLB's final cash crop, HGH, officially obsolete.
* There is no doubt that a soccer player's endurance is second-to-none and, when all is said and done, I think it is accurate to say that most truly qualify as tough. That said, why do most soccer players insist on acting like they have broken all 206 bones of their body everytime they are knocked to the ground? I was mighty proud of the Americans who did not seem to resort to such tactics. The same cannot be said of the Italians. In fact, after the game, I reviewed the final statistics and noticed that Italy outshot the U.S. 10-8, had seven corner kicks to the U.S.'s three, and outpaced the Americans in needless stretchers used 7-0.
At least, when our guys got injured, they actually looked as if they had just skated a shift with the Hanson Brothers.
* I was disappointed, however, in U.S. coach Bruce Arena's apparent refusal to actually go for the win. With ten minutes of so left to play, it was quite clear that the players on both sides were extremely tired and play had gotten sloppy. What a perfect time, in my mind, to take advantage of your third and final substitution and replace a tired player with a set of fresh legs. Arena, however, did not want to replace an experienced player whom he could completely trust defensively with a younger player who may not be as savvy on the defensive end. In other words, Arena elected to simply play for the tie. Wait a minute, I thought this was America. Discounting Kentucky, of course, since when are we satisifed with kissing our sister when the Prom Queen is tantalizingly close? Bruce, Bruce, Bruce...to the victor goes the spoils.
* And as a result of the 1-1 tie, the U.S. now has to beat Ghana and hope that Italy defeats the Czech Republic for the Americans to advance to the round of 16. I suspect that the U.S. will knock off the Black Stars, but Italy will not hold up there end of the bargain finishing in a 1-1 tie with the Czechs.
* Finally (with regards to soccer and the World Cup), I thoroughly enjoyed the many traditions that accompany the actual game. Walking out of the tunnel side-by-side with your opponent, while holding the hand of a young child and standing at rapt attention and singing out loud during both country's national anthems are really neat things to watch. One of the most unique traditions, however, is the trading of jerseys after the match. How cool is that? So cool, that I am hoping that I can somehow do some legal work against an attorney from Donnell, Young, Dole and Frutt. Bobby was one hell of a dresser and I am sure that his Italian made suits sure beat the heck out of my Men's Wearhouse two for $399 specials. Sure, George Zimmer was right, I do like the way I look, but Bobby scored Lindsay and that is good enough for me.
* While, on Saturday I spent the majority of the afternoon watching the soccer game, Sunday was dedicated to the U.S. Open and Bill Parcells' er... Colin Montgomerie's attempts to become the single biggest ass to ever win a major golf tournament (and trust me, Nick Faldo is no Fred Rogers, although he does occasionally wear a cardigan sweater and has been known to play with trains).
A couple of observations about the U.S. Open...
* First and foremost, congratulations to Geoff Ogilvy on winning the championship. Sometimes it pays to be surrounded by complete ineptitude.
* I guess it is a good thing that Tiger Woods was not in contention on Sunday, as you just know that Tiger would not have imploded the way that almost everybody else did. Woods of course, did not even make the cut -- the first time that he has failed to do so in a major in his entire career. Facing a summer weekend with no plans, I can only assume that Tiger spent Saturday and Sunday with Elin Nordegren. Boo hoo.
Missing the cut ain't so bad, eh Tiger?
* Ty Webb was also not in contention on Sunday. Too bad. That guy can putt! Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah. Bub-bub-bub-bub-bub.
* Phil Mickelson, of course, was in contention and picked precisely the wrong time to turn back into the "can't win the big one, fold in the clutch Phil Mickelson." Not only did he make club choice decisions that left the entire golf world scratching their heads, but his execution left more than a little to be desired. One drive landed in a plastic waste can full of crushed beer cans. Another hit the hospitality tent. Heck, the only place that one of Phil's drives did not land was on Carl Spackler's coffee table.
* And that brings us to Mr. Parcells (crap, there I go again), er... Mr. Montgomerie (you tell me that they were not separated at birth). Upon double bogeying the 18th hole on Sunday, the television announcers stated "This is sad. This is difficult to watch.” Excuse me?
I, for one, could not have been happier about Monty's misfortune. This is a guy who speaks about America as Ozzie Guillen speaks about Sean Tracey. Sad? Difficult to watch? Only if you were hoping that Colin's collapse on 18 could be accompanied by a visit from the Legge family.
Back to more mainstream sports tomorrow...
***Today's pop culture trivia: What "affliction" did Cosmo claim to have that he said made him irresistible to women? What "remedy" was prescribed? What type of a church did Sister Roberta belong to?
Friday, June 16, 2006
What's Next? Red Rover on the USA Network?
"To the beginner the choices are few, to the expert the choices are many." -- Wojek Smallsoa
Very little surprises me these days, but I must admit that every now and then, something pops out of the wordwork and leaves me (yes, me) at a complete loss for words (albeit for only a moment). In the very recent past, we have witnessed and explosion in he popularity of televised poker, we have watched Kerry Close outspell hundreds of other nerds in stunning high definition on ABC, and we have been treated to an occasional ping pong match live from China. We have even had the opportunity to watch millionaire football players play video games against other millionaire football players on ESPN, Norwegian lumberjack competitions featuring more lumberjills than lumberjacks, and Takeru Kobayashi make like Augustus Gloop and finish off more than 53 hot dogs at Nathan's famous contest on Coney Island. But, on Monday, June 12, 2006, the A & E network took us a a brand new place that none of us ever figured that we would go.
Yes, friends and neighbors, this past Monday, A & E broadcast the inaugural USA Rock, Paper, Scissors Championship.
You read that correctly...the USA Rock, Paper, Scissors Championship.
But that is not the end of the story and I am happy to report that I bring you exciting news. Summon the wife to come home, stop sleeping with your Kentucky cousin and take the horse testicles out of your mouth. No longer will you have to prepare for an appearance on Wife Swap, The Jerry Springer Show or Fear Factor in hopes that you can make enough money to pay for that sweet Rainbow Brite doll that you ordered off e-bay. Believe it or not, the winner of the championship took home a whopping $50,000 in cold, hard cash.
I caution you, however, that winning such a championship is not as easy as it seems. One only need read the quote at the head of this post by famed Rock, Paper, Scissors strategist Wojek Smallsoa, the current chairman of the World RPS Society and the author of the RPS Bible "The Trio of Hands " (1962). (I am not making this up, people). So, although you may have been successful at getting your girlfriend to go with you to see Lawnmower Man 2, instead of her choice, some ridiculous period piece starring Emma Thompson (never...I repeat, never, agree to see a movie starring Emma Thompson unless it includes a character named Cornelius Fudge), thanks to a well-played scissors, your chances of beating 2006 champ "Drill" McGill are painfully slim (Drill defeated "Fast Twitch" Twitchel to win the tournament). In other words, this isn't like playing against either Kramer or Mickey (rock, rock -- rock, rock -- rock, rock...)
I also must warn you that a game of RSP, or Roshambo or Farggling, or Ching Chong Chow is not to be entered into lightly. According to RSP laws published in England in 1842, RSP is only to be played in an effort to settle a dispute, although the law has recently been amended to allow games of "honor" to be played (hence, the authorization of the championship). Most incredibly, earlier this year, a Federal judge in Florida ordered opposing sides in a lengthy court case to settle a point using the game of RSP. Specifically, the Honorable Gregory Presnell ordered that "at 4:00 P.M. on Friday, June 30, 2006, counsel shall convene at a neutral site agreeable to both parties. At that time and location, counsel shall engage in one (1) game of 'rock, paper, scissors.' The winner of this engagement shall be entitled to select the location for the 30(b)(6) deposition." Unfortunately, I have not received confirmation regarding whether A & E, Bravo and the Game Show Network are fighting over the broadcasting rights. Maybe Gopherball Glendon can host. I imagine that in a few weeks he will have nothing else to do.
(For those of you who are incredibly bored, feel free to visit http://www.worldrps.com/ for more information on this fad that is sure to soon sweep the nation. You can even download RPS superstar trading cards. I'll trade you my Master Roshambollah for your Todd Brilliant).
You know, this is the kind of information that the Tribune and the Sun Times just don't dedicate enough copy space to. Aren't you happy you know me?
It's been a busy week in the world of sports. Let's empty the brain, shall we?
* Former LSU Tiger Tyrus Thomas held a personal workout with the Bulls yesterday, but had to cut it short when he developed stomach problems. Not sure if the stomach problems were caused by witnessing Tyson Chandler shoot jump shots or by being forced to watch old films of the Tim Floyd years. Gotta love reliving the Dalibor Bagaric and Dragan Tarlac years...
* Michael Jordan has apparently become sick of spending time with Juanita and the kids and is the new part-owner of the Charlotte Bobcats. In his new position, Michael will run basketball operations for the team. As such, McDonald's will now serve the pre-game meal, Hanes will manufacture the Bobcats' uniforms (in Hong Kong, I mean in Allentown, Pennsylvania...yeah... Allentown) and team overnight gambling junkets to Atlantic City will now be mandatory for all players and personnel.
* Upon hearing the news, Los Angeles Laker owner immediately called Charlotte and let Jordan know that Kwame Brown was available.
* Who was most upset with Fernando Pasani's shorthanded overtime goal in Game 5 of the Stanley Cup playoffs, giving Edmonton the win and forcing a Game 6 to be shown tonight on NBC? The Carolina Hurricanes, who, with a win would have won the Cup, NBC, which probably would have gotten better ratings if the network had shown reruns of Remington Steele (heck, they probably would get better ratings with reruns of B.J and the Bear or Who Wants to Marry My Dad?), or the poor Edmonton youngsters who, with the announcement that a scheduled performance of Dora the Explorer would have to be canceled to free up the arena, were so angry thet they spat tabacca juice all over their Jeff Gordon t-shirts?
* A few of y0u have asked me whether the Lingerie Football League is real or a figment of my over-active imagination. The truth is that the Lingerie Football League is a very real concept that has just not picked up a network television partner. Further, it is also true that Dennis Rodman was named the league commissioner in 2005.
That said, Random Thoughts commenter "Bearister" questions the naming of the Chicago franchise as the "Bliss." With Bears and Cubs already in town, Bearister wants to know why the bra and panty-clad beauties would not just maintain consistency and refer to themselves as the Chicago Teddies. You have to admit that he has a point.
Along the same lines, I think franchises should be awarded to Minnesota, Philadelphia, Oakland and Milwaukee. Minnesota can certainly keep the Twins, but the other teams need creative names that play off already existing names. The City of Brotherly Love already has the 76ers... how about the 69ers? San Francisco's ratty neighbor already has the A's... how about the Double D's? Brewtown already has the Bucks... how about the...
* Alright, I officially have no idea what to make of Scotty Pods this year. All I can say is that his contract with the devil must have some pretty funky provisions. He's good. He's bad. He's great. He stinks. At this point, believe it or not, his average is actually only two points higher than Juan Pierre's (.247 to .245). Who drafted the contract anyway? Lionel Hutz?
For Lisa's sake (that's Dergen, not Simpson), I hope he is a heck of a lot more consistent off the field than on. Otherwise, Tail Chaser Anderson may wish to switch his beer of choice to St. Pauli Girl. You never know when she may get antsy.
* Einstein Jones apparently had traded his baserunning skills for a brand new left arm. Too bad, he apparently shops at a thrift store for the physically handicapped. "Thedaughter" has a better chance of throwing out a runner on the bases than Einstein. At this point, he might be better off just running the ball into the cut-off man. These 7-foot throws simply are not cutting it.
* The Cubs have, thus far, been successful at holding off the Pirates in the standings, but while they were scanning the horizon for a sing of the Jolly Roger, peglegs, eye patches, or Johnny Depp, the Florida Toddlers or Minnows or Flying Joe Girardi's swam right by them and took over sole-possession of 11th place in the National League. Let the "Bring Joe Girardi to the North Side" movement begin.
* And please bring a crate of garlic crabs from The Rustic Inn, an autographed Dan Marino football and Miguel Carbrera with you.
* Apparently, the rumor regarding the ouster of Gunston is true. According to NPR, George Mason is looking for a new mascot that is more closely connnected with the school's Patriots nickname. Given this news, it is clearly time to unite as one and dedicate all lobbying resourcs to this fight. Forget the immigration debate and send Saddam Bin Laden back to Iran, shelve the fight over stem cell research and just perform medical experients at Guantanamo, and ignore the need for tax and social security reform, we need to band together and make our voices be heard. Save Gunston!!!
After all, the New Orleans "Saints" have kept Joe Horn around, even after the great cell-phone caper, and the New York Yankees have enjoyed the services of Tampa, Florida native Gary Sheffield for years. Not to mention that fact that the Cincinnati Reds haven't had a guy named Stalin or Lenin or Marx for as long as I can remember.
* Finally, as I write this the Detroit Tigers are beating the Cubs 5-2 in the top of the 8th inning. White Sox fans are dancing in the streets of Mt. Greenwood! No, wait a minute. Sox fans are crying. But, it's the Cubs that are losing -- the villians from the north. Sox fans rejoice! But the Tigers are ahead of the Sox in the A.L. Central. Sox fans scream in anger. Oh man, I'm so confused.
This is like a bulimic woman who is addicted to chocolate going to the Nestle factory and discovering that there are no toilets or other places to vomit. Oh, the humanity!!!!
Gotta go! I'm off to the Duck, Duck, Goose championship and I've got a C-note on little Eddie Barker from Naperville to take the title!
*** Congratulations to "Shabba Dabba Doo," who correctly identified Matthew Broderick as the actor who was originally cast as Alex P. Keaton in Family Ties. Now picture Michael J. Fox as Ferris Bueller. Doesn't work does it?
Very little surprises me these days, but I must admit that every now and then, something pops out of the wordwork and leaves me (yes, me) at a complete loss for words (albeit for only a moment). In the very recent past, we have witnessed and explosion in he popularity of televised poker, we have watched Kerry Close outspell hundreds of other nerds in stunning high definition on ABC, and we have been treated to an occasional ping pong match live from China. We have even had the opportunity to watch millionaire football players play video games against other millionaire football players on ESPN, Norwegian lumberjack competitions featuring more lumberjills than lumberjacks, and Takeru Kobayashi make like Augustus Gloop and finish off more than 53 hot dogs at Nathan's famous contest on Coney Island. But, on Monday, June 12, 2006, the A & E network took us a a brand new place that none of us ever figured that we would go.
Yes, friends and neighbors, this past Monday, A & E broadcast the inaugural USA Rock, Paper, Scissors Championship.
You read that correctly...the USA Rock, Paper, Scissors Championship.
But that is not the end of the story and I am happy to report that I bring you exciting news. Summon the wife to come home, stop sleeping with your Kentucky cousin and take the horse testicles out of your mouth. No longer will you have to prepare for an appearance on Wife Swap, The Jerry Springer Show or Fear Factor in hopes that you can make enough money to pay for that sweet Rainbow Brite doll that you ordered off e-bay. Believe it or not, the winner of the championship took home a whopping $50,000 in cold, hard cash.
I caution you, however, that winning such a championship is not as easy as it seems. One only need read the quote at the head of this post by famed Rock, Paper, Scissors strategist Wojek Smallsoa, the current chairman of the World RPS Society and the author of the RPS Bible "The Trio of Hands " (1962). (I am not making this up, people). So, although you may have been successful at getting your girlfriend to go with you to see Lawnmower Man 2, instead of her choice, some ridiculous period piece starring Emma Thompson (never...I repeat, never, agree to see a movie starring Emma Thompson unless it includes a character named Cornelius Fudge), thanks to a well-played scissors, your chances of beating 2006 champ "Drill" McGill are painfully slim (Drill defeated "Fast Twitch" Twitchel to win the tournament). In other words, this isn't like playing against either Kramer or Mickey (rock, rock -- rock, rock -- rock, rock...)
I also must warn you that a game of RSP, or Roshambo or Farggling, or Ching Chong Chow is not to be entered into lightly. According to RSP laws published in England in 1842, RSP is only to be played in an effort to settle a dispute, although the law has recently been amended to allow games of "honor" to be played (hence, the authorization of the championship). Most incredibly, earlier this year, a Federal judge in Florida ordered opposing sides in a lengthy court case to settle a point using the game of RSP. Specifically, the Honorable Gregory Presnell ordered that "at 4:00 P.M. on Friday, June 30, 2006, counsel shall convene at a neutral site agreeable to both parties. At that time and location, counsel shall engage in one (1) game of 'rock, paper, scissors.' The winner of this engagement shall be entitled to select the location for the 30(b)(6) deposition." Unfortunately, I have not received confirmation regarding whether A & E, Bravo and the Game Show Network are fighting over the broadcasting rights. Maybe Gopherball Glendon can host. I imagine that in a few weeks he will have nothing else to do.
(For those of you who are incredibly bored, feel free to visit http://www.worldrps.com/ for more information on this fad that is sure to soon sweep the nation. You can even download RPS superstar trading cards. I'll trade you my Master Roshambollah for your Todd Brilliant).
You know, this is the kind of information that the Tribune and the Sun Times just don't dedicate enough copy space to. Aren't you happy you know me?
It's been a busy week in the world of sports. Let's empty the brain, shall we?
* Former LSU Tiger Tyrus Thomas held a personal workout with the Bulls yesterday, but had to cut it short when he developed stomach problems. Not sure if the stomach problems were caused by witnessing Tyson Chandler shoot jump shots or by being forced to watch old films of the Tim Floyd years. Gotta love reliving the Dalibor Bagaric and Dragan Tarlac years...
* Michael Jordan has apparently become sick of spending time with Juanita and the kids and is the new part-owner of the Charlotte Bobcats. In his new position, Michael will run basketball operations for the team. As such, McDonald's will now serve the pre-game meal, Hanes will manufacture the Bobcats' uniforms (in Hong Kong, I mean in Allentown, Pennsylvania...yeah... Allentown) and team overnight gambling junkets to Atlantic City will now be mandatory for all players and personnel.
* Upon hearing the news, Los Angeles Laker owner immediately called Charlotte and let Jordan know that Kwame Brown was available.
* Who was most upset with Fernando Pasani's shorthanded overtime goal in Game 5 of the Stanley Cup playoffs, giving Edmonton the win and forcing a Game 6 to be shown tonight on NBC? The Carolina Hurricanes, who, with a win would have won the Cup, NBC, which probably would have gotten better ratings if the network had shown reruns of Remington Steele (heck, they probably would get better ratings with reruns of B.J and the Bear or Who Wants to Marry My Dad?), or the poor Edmonton youngsters who, with the announcement that a scheduled performance of Dora the Explorer would have to be canceled to free up the arena, were so angry thet they spat tabacca juice all over their Jeff Gordon t-shirts?
* A few of y0u have asked me whether the Lingerie Football League is real or a figment of my over-active imagination. The truth is that the Lingerie Football League is a very real concept that has just not picked up a network television partner. Further, it is also true that Dennis Rodman was named the league commissioner in 2005.
That said, Random Thoughts commenter "Bearister" questions the naming of the Chicago franchise as the "Bliss." With Bears and Cubs already in town, Bearister wants to know why the bra and panty-clad beauties would not just maintain consistency and refer to themselves as the Chicago Teddies. You have to admit that he has a point.
Along the same lines, I think franchises should be awarded to Minnesota, Philadelphia, Oakland and Milwaukee. Minnesota can certainly keep the Twins, but the other teams need creative names that play off already existing names. The City of Brotherly Love already has the 76ers... how about the 69ers? San Francisco's ratty neighbor already has the A's... how about the Double D's? Brewtown already has the Bucks... how about the...
* Alright, I officially have no idea what to make of Scotty Pods this year. All I can say is that his contract with the devil must have some pretty funky provisions. He's good. He's bad. He's great. He stinks. At this point, believe it or not, his average is actually only two points higher than Juan Pierre's (.247 to .245). Who drafted the contract anyway? Lionel Hutz?
For Lisa's sake (that's Dergen, not Simpson), I hope he is a heck of a lot more consistent off the field than on. Otherwise, Tail Chaser Anderson may wish to switch his beer of choice to St. Pauli Girl. You never know when she may get antsy.
* Einstein Jones apparently had traded his baserunning skills for a brand new left arm. Too bad, he apparently shops at a thrift store for the physically handicapped. "Thedaughter" has a better chance of throwing out a runner on the bases than Einstein. At this point, he might be better off just running the ball into the cut-off man. These 7-foot throws simply are not cutting it.
* The Cubs have, thus far, been successful at holding off the Pirates in the standings, but while they were scanning the horizon for a sing of the Jolly Roger, peglegs, eye patches, or Johnny Depp, the Florida Toddlers or Minnows or Flying Joe Girardi's swam right by them and took over sole-possession of 11th place in the National League. Let the "Bring Joe Girardi to the North Side" movement begin.
* And please bring a crate of garlic crabs from The Rustic Inn, an autographed Dan Marino football and Miguel Carbrera with you.
* Apparently, the rumor regarding the ouster of Gunston is true. According to NPR, George Mason is looking for a new mascot that is more closely connnected with the school's Patriots nickname. Given this news, it is clearly time to unite as one and dedicate all lobbying resourcs to this fight. Forget the immigration debate and send Saddam Bin Laden back to Iran, shelve the fight over stem cell research and just perform medical experients at Guantanamo, and ignore the need for tax and social security reform, we need to band together and make our voices be heard. Save Gunston!!!
After all, the New Orleans "Saints" have kept Joe Horn around, even after the great cell-phone caper, and the New York Yankees have enjoyed the services of Tampa, Florida native Gary Sheffield for years. Not to mention that fact that the Cincinnati Reds haven't had a guy named Stalin or Lenin or Marx for as long as I can remember.
* Finally, as I write this the Detroit Tigers are beating the Cubs 5-2 in the top of the 8th inning. White Sox fans are dancing in the streets of Mt. Greenwood! No, wait a minute. Sox fans are crying. But, it's the Cubs that are losing -- the villians from the north. Sox fans rejoice! But the Tigers are ahead of the Sox in the A.L. Central. Sox fans scream in anger. Oh man, I'm so confused.
This is like a bulimic woman who is addicted to chocolate going to the Nestle factory and discovering that there are no toilets or other places to vomit. Oh, the humanity!!!!
Gotta go! I'm off to the Duck, Duck, Goose championship and I've got a C-note on little Eddie Barker from Naperville to take the title!
*** Congratulations to "Shabba Dabba Doo," who correctly identified Matthew Broderick as the actor who was originally cast as Alex P. Keaton in Family Ties. Now picture Michael J. Fox as Ferris Bueller. Doesn't work does it?
Thursday, June 15, 2006
You'd Rather Have Ed Lynch?
As you no doubt realize from my last two posts, I have received an amazing amount of mail in the last couple of weeks. Heck, I have received so much mail that I was not able to "publish" in the Random Thoughts all of the interesting letters and notes that I have received form the sports and entertainment community. For example, both Jessica Lange and Jessica Tandy recommended a senior's division of the "Jessica Games. " Jessica Hahn wrote and recommended some awfully kinky stuff that really should not be repeated in public (think Tammy Faye's makeup case, a bottle of Old Harper and a Sam Kinison bobble-head doll. Ohhh, I get chills just thinking about it!). Jessica Rabbit wrote too and suggested that we spend and evening at the "Ink and Paint Club," but the whole idea was just a little too creepy for my tastes.
One person who I did not receive a letter from is Cubs General Manager Jim Hendry. Now I do not know if he is too busy trying to convince potential suitors that Juan Pierre's .283 on-base percentage is a fluke and that the Cubs' centerfielder, therefore, is worth more in a trade than a rookie league backup catcher and a case of Snapple or simply too busy trying to figure out how to set his DVR to record tonight's Britney Spears tear-fest on NBC Dateline, but Jim simply hasn't written. And I wish he had.
You see, I am not like Random Thoughts commenter "drio" and a host of hundreds who flood the sports talk radio airwaves with cries of "Jim Hendry is baseball's answer to Charlie Casserly!" Now please do not get me wrong, Hendry certainly does not belong in the General Manager's Hall of Fame and he certainly is no Charlie Donovan (anyone who plucks Jake Taylor out of the Mexican League is alright with me), but Cubs' fans seem to forget that Hendry has done an awful lot of good things on the North Side of Chicago since he became GM in July 2002 and a few short months ago was considered one of the best in baseball.
Let's start by taking a look at the trades that Hendry has made. Derek Lee for Hee Seop, of course, was an absolute steal that would make even Winona Ryder smile. And then we have the famous Aramis Ramirez and Kenny Lofton for Matt Bruback, Jose Hernandez and Bobby Hill trade. Yes, I know that Jose Hernandez set the Puerto Rico Winter Ball record for most home runs in a season with 20 in 1997-8 (What? Was Gopherball Glendon spending time in San Juan that winter?), Matt Bruback was recently named Employee of the Month at a Bowie, Maryland K-Mart and Bobby Hill showed a certain amount of talent when serving as the mascot for the Tom Landry Longhorns middle-school football team, but I still think Hendry got the better of that deal.
Oh, it was the other Bobby Hill that the Cubs traded? Well, last I checked that boy ain't right either and is presently out of the league.
Hendry is also responsible for the trade that Cubs fans were convinced was going to result in another deep playoff run in 2004. I can distinctly remember the excitement of learning that Hendry had somehow landed Nomah and some young kid who grew up in a home known only as The Burrow, for the sure-handed Alex Gonzalez (snicker), Brendan Harris and Francis Beltran. I was so excited I felt like Chief Chirpa and Wicket W. Warrick after Han, Chewie and the rest of the rebel troops defeated the Imperial forces on the forest moon of Endor. Now things certainly did not turn out the way that we all hoped, but they are not exactly planning construction of the Harris-Beltran-Gonzo wing in Cooperstown, either. Beltran, for one, seemingly forgot that he had been traded away from the Cubs and has missed the last two seasons recovering from arm problems. And that Weasley guy may be going through a rough patch right now, but I think we all agree he is a keeper (by the way, that is supposed to be a play on words that only "thewife" will probably understand -- and mayber "shabba dabba doo" if he is paying close enough attention and Tiffany if she is still reading despite the close of the Madness).
Any other trades worth mentioning? How about Tyson Barrett for Damian Miller? Barrett has a higher average, more home runs, more RBI and a better right cross. Steroid Sammy for S.H.H. and two stiffs? No, the Cubs did not get anything of value in return, but just getting Sammy and his boombox out of Chicago was its own reward. Kyle Farnsworth for Roberto Novoa? Novoa is cheaper and, thus far, nobody in the organization has had to come up with bail money.
And then we come to it...Kid Corey for (let's call it what it is) a pile of crap. Yes, in retrospect, this was a bad trade, but everyone who watched the Cubs over the last couple of seasons realized that Corey had to get out of Chicago to have any chance of success. Should the Cubs have gotten more? Yes. But, let's not forget that even the best general managers sometimes make colossal mistakes. Heck, even Jerry Krause traded Elton Brand for Tyson Chandler (ok, bad example) and highly regarded Oakland GM Billy Beane got fleeced by sending Tim Hudson to Atlanta for three guys who are either still in the minor leagued or have moved on to other teams, inlcuding Juan Cruz (a much better example).
So what about the signing of free agents? Let's take a close look at the 2005-06 off-season and start off by agreeing to forget about the already occupied positions -- closer, third base and first base (if you claim that you knew that D Lee was going to get injured, you are either Marty McFly, the Terminator, or Fletcher Reede before his son's birthday wish). Most people focus their criticism on Hendry's inability to sign a starting pitcher to protect the team in case Prior or Wood got injured. But, who precisely was Hendry supposed to sign? A look at last off-season's free agent starting pitcher options:
- A.J. Burnett: The "gem" of the class, Burnett is as injury-prone as Wood, Prior and Rex the Wonder Dog and currently on D.L.. Just like the hippo that David Murphy bought for Diana to try and win back her love, Burnett is not worth even close to the money that Toronto paid (although, arguably at that point in her career, Demi Moore may very well have been worth the million).
- The Guys Who Suck: Tell me you wanted the Cubs to spend big money on Esteban Loaiza (6.39 ERA), Brett Tomko (5.20), Matt Morris (5.13) or Jeff Weaver (6.15) and you probably also wanted to see the Bears waste thier money on Antwaan Randle El and think that the Bryan Robinson 2000 contract extension was a good idea.
- The Guys Who Have One Foot in the Grave: Kenny Rogers and Jamie Moyer are both having fine seasons. Unfortunately, Rogers is 42 years old and Moyer is 44. In Moyer's case, I personally see no reason to give big money to a guy who listens to Lawrence Welk and needed to install a LifeCall unit in him home in case a hip gives out and, like Mrs. Fletcher, cannot get up. With regards to Rogers, the union of Chicagoland video camera operators lobbied the Cubs and threatened to boycott both the annual "Pitchers of the DL" and the "Dumbest Players in the National League" camera shoots, if Rogers was signed.
- Shawn Estes, Terry Mulholland and former Sox hurler James Baldwin: Ha ha ha ho hee ha ho ho ha ha ha ha ha ha hee ho ha... Oh god, I have not laughed this hard since Herman's Head went off the air.
That leaves us with Paul Byrd and Jerrod Washburn. I cannot deny that either pitcher would be a major upgrade over Guzman or Hill or whomever is giving up eight walks and six runs in three and one-third innings. Yet, at the same time, call me naive, but I don't think you can operate a team assuming that a player (or players) will get injured. Prepare for the possibility? Absolutely. But, make unsound financial decisions based on the possibility? That does not seem to make sense to me either.
And who else was available at other positions? Rafael Furcal? They tried but paying a .248 hitter $13 million per season is about as ridiculous as paying Vanilla Ice even a cent more than $3 to sing at your summer barbeque. Johnny Damon? Nobody could have figured that Juan Pierre would be this bad and a long-term contract simply was not in the cards given the eventual ascension of Felix Pee-Ay. Juan Encarnacion, Reggie Sanders or Preston Wilson? Three mediocre players who strike out more than often Skippy Handelman when asking out Mallory***. Re-sign Nomah? To play where? Nomah is having a fine season, buti f asked to play shortstop on a daily basis, would surely have spent the majority of the season watching Mia play in charity soccer games while occupying his reserved spot on the D.L..
And it seems as though nobody wants to give Hendry the proper credit for the signings that he did make. The Cubs had a major hole in the bullpen and filled it by (over)paying for Bobby Howry and Scott Eyre.
Still think that Hendry blew it this off-season? Well, I suppose that, upon further review, you very well might have a point. After all, Mark Bellhorn, Steroid Sammy and Jason Grimsley were also off-season free agents that the Cubs passed on. And you can bet that we would be hanging a World Series banner in Wrigley Field this fall if we only had more double ear-flapped helmets labeled "The Horn" in the dugout, more salsa music in the clubhouse and more of whatever it is that Grimsley could provide in everyone's locker stall (when he says "greenies," he means apple flavored jelly beans, right?).
The bottom line is that Hendry certainly deserves his share of the blame. But, at the end of the day, I believe that he has done an admirable job overall. He has made numerous excellent trades and didn't waste money on overpriced free agents that would provide only minimal gain. Look, it is not like a few additional moves would make that much of a difference. Simply stated, the Cubs are one of the worst teams in baseball and very little was going to change that. Hendry deserves blame. Dusty deserves blame. The Tribune deserves blame. And so do the coaches, scouts, minor league instructors, and, most importantly, the players. In fact, just about the only person in the Cubs' organization that should be kept off the hook is Yosh Kawono.
* Look, I truly do not wish to rename this Blog the "Ozzie Guillen's Random Acts of Insanity" or "Let's Talk About Ozzie Like He Talks About the Cubs," but he is making it awfully difficult to ignore him. He continues to say and do what, in my mind, are statements and actions that can only be described as classless.
For those of you too busy searching the Web for a cheap site where you can buy the Elizabeth Berkeley retrospective DVD to watch the White Sox game last night, A.J. Pierzynski got hit by a pitch twice in the first six and one-half innings of the game. With the Sox losing 6-0 in the bottom of the seventh, Ozzie sent rookie Sean Tracey in to pitch with instructions that he intentionally throw at Rangers' thirdbaseman Hank Blalock. Tracey's first two pitchers were inside but failed to hit Blalock, prompting an angry response from Ozzie. His third pitch was then grounded to second and Blalock was thrown out at first.
That is when the fun began. Ozzie reacted to the ground out like Marcia reacted when she found out that Greg was going to get the attic and not her. He threw a water bottle, stormed out onto the field and yanked Tracey from the game. He then proceeded to yell at the poor kid in the dugout for some time, ultimately reducing Tracey to tears. After the game was over, Tracey was optioned to the minors.
Those of you who have been dedicated readers of the Random Thoughts already know how I feel about intentionally throwing at a hitter, but, for those of you who are new to the RT (Jessica Biel included -- you happy now?), I have reprinted my comments on the issue from a past post below...
"We hear all the time about the "way baseball used to be." How if your pitcher plunked the opposing team's star, the first batter up in the next inning would be earning a free, albeit painful, trip to first base (if he can stand that is). How if you hit a home run off Don Drysdale, during your next trip to the plate, you'd be best served bringing a shield and wearing a football helmet. How if you made Bob Gibson angry, he was abt to fire a 97-mph fastball at your head, laugh at your lifeless body and eat your liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. Every now and then I think about how amazing it is that sports can warp our view of what is right and what is wrong. I think we lose sight of the fact that a baseball is hard and it is absolutely no fun to get struck by a ball travelling at such great speeds. I know that it is likely not a particularily popular opinion, but I don't think that it should ever be appropriate to intentionally throw at a batter. Give the pitcher the right to throw at a batter on purpose and the hitter should be well within his rights to rush the mound with his bat (or club the catcher over the head with your bat if your name just happens to be Juan Marichal."
This morning on Mike & Mike, Greenberg and Golic argued that it is just a "rule of the game." Well, you know what? I read the baseball record book and I must have overlooked the rule that states that it is expected and permissible to intentionally throw at a hitter. I certainly saw the rule that it is illegal for a Chicago Cub player to drive a runner in from third with under two outs. I saw the rule that requires a manager to sit on the bench any player who has home run power and has been acquired from the Texas Rangers. I even saw the rule about how it is illegal to put squirrels in your pants for the purposes of gambling. But nothing on being required to throw at a batter intentionally.
And even if you believe in the "unwritten rules of baseball," Ozzie's reaction was downright appalling. He is a rookie whom you just asked to throw a 92 mph fastball directly at another human being. Maybe the kid, I don't know, had a conscience?
Enough Ozzie. There is no baseball rule that allows you to treat an opposing batter like a dunk tank participant and there is no grinder ball rule that reads "our manager is an idiot," either.
Enjoy your evening.
*** Two Family Ties references in two days! Who was originally cast as Alex P. Keaton but made an 11th hour decision to turn down the role to stay in New York with his ailing father?
One person who I did not receive a letter from is Cubs General Manager Jim Hendry. Now I do not know if he is too busy trying to convince potential suitors that Juan Pierre's .283 on-base percentage is a fluke and that the Cubs' centerfielder, therefore, is worth more in a trade than a rookie league backup catcher and a case of Snapple or simply too busy trying to figure out how to set his DVR to record tonight's Britney Spears tear-fest on NBC Dateline, but Jim simply hasn't written. And I wish he had.
You see, I am not like Random Thoughts commenter "drio" and a host of hundreds who flood the sports talk radio airwaves with cries of "Jim Hendry is baseball's answer to Charlie Casserly!" Now please do not get me wrong, Hendry certainly does not belong in the General Manager's Hall of Fame and he certainly is no Charlie Donovan (anyone who plucks Jake Taylor out of the Mexican League is alright with me), but Cubs' fans seem to forget that Hendry has done an awful lot of good things on the North Side of Chicago since he became GM in July 2002 and a few short months ago was considered one of the best in baseball.
Let's start by taking a look at the trades that Hendry has made. Derek Lee for Hee Seop, of course, was an absolute steal that would make even Winona Ryder smile. And then we have the famous Aramis Ramirez and Kenny Lofton for Matt Bruback, Jose Hernandez and Bobby Hill trade. Yes, I know that Jose Hernandez set the Puerto Rico Winter Ball record for most home runs in a season with 20 in 1997-8 (What? Was Gopherball Glendon spending time in San Juan that winter?), Matt Bruback was recently named Employee of the Month at a Bowie, Maryland K-Mart and Bobby Hill showed a certain amount of talent when serving as the mascot for the Tom Landry Longhorns middle-school football team, but I still think Hendry got the better of that deal.
Oh, it was the other Bobby Hill that the Cubs traded? Well, last I checked that boy ain't right either and is presently out of the league.
Hendry is also responsible for the trade that Cubs fans were convinced was going to result in another deep playoff run in 2004. I can distinctly remember the excitement of learning that Hendry had somehow landed Nomah and some young kid who grew up in a home known only as The Burrow, for the sure-handed Alex Gonzalez (snicker), Brendan Harris and Francis Beltran. I was so excited I felt like Chief Chirpa and Wicket W. Warrick after Han, Chewie and the rest of the rebel troops defeated the Imperial forces on the forest moon of Endor. Now things certainly did not turn out the way that we all hoped, but they are not exactly planning construction of the Harris-Beltran-Gonzo wing in Cooperstown, either. Beltran, for one, seemingly forgot that he had been traded away from the Cubs and has missed the last two seasons recovering from arm problems. And that Weasley guy may be going through a rough patch right now, but I think we all agree he is a keeper (by the way, that is supposed to be a play on words that only "thewife" will probably understand -- and mayber "shabba dabba doo" if he is paying close enough attention and Tiffany if she is still reading despite the close of the Madness).
Any other trades worth mentioning? How about Tyson Barrett for Damian Miller? Barrett has a higher average, more home runs, more RBI and a better right cross. Steroid Sammy for S.H.H. and two stiffs? No, the Cubs did not get anything of value in return, but just getting Sammy and his boombox out of Chicago was its own reward. Kyle Farnsworth for Roberto Novoa? Novoa is cheaper and, thus far, nobody in the organization has had to come up with bail money.
And then we come to it...Kid Corey for (let's call it what it is) a pile of crap. Yes, in retrospect, this was a bad trade, but everyone who watched the Cubs over the last couple of seasons realized that Corey had to get out of Chicago to have any chance of success. Should the Cubs have gotten more? Yes. But, let's not forget that even the best general managers sometimes make colossal mistakes. Heck, even Jerry Krause traded Elton Brand for Tyson Chandler (ok, bad example) and highly regarded Oakland GM Billy Beane got fleeced by sending Tim Hudson to Atlanta for three guys who are either still in the minor leagued or have moved on to other teams, inlcuding Juan Cruz (a much better example).
So what about the signing of free agents? Let's take a close look at the 2005-06 off-season and start off by agreeing to forget about the already occupied positions -- closer, third base and first base (if you claim that you knew that D Lee was going to get injured, you are either Marty McFly, the Terminator, or Fletcher Reede before his son's birthday wish). Most people focus their criticism on Hendry's inability to sign a starting pitcher to protect the team in case Prior or Wood got injured. But, who precisely was Hendry supposed to sign? A look at last off-season's free agent starting pitcher options:
- A.J. Burnett: The "gem" of the class, Burnett is as injury-prone as Wood, Prior and Rex the Wonder Dog and currently on D.L.. Just like the hippo that David Murphy bought for Diana to try and win back her love, Burnett is not worth even close to the money that Toronto paid (although, arguably at that point in her career, Demi Moore may very well have been worth the million).
- The Guys Who Suck: Tell me you wanted the Cubs to spend big money on Esteban Loaiza (6.39 ERA), Brett Tomko (5.20), Matt Morris (5.13) or Jeff Weaver (6.15) and you probably also wanted to see the Bears waste thier money on Antwaan Randle El and think that the Bryan Robinson 2000 contract extension was a good idea.
- The Guys Who Have One Foot in the Grave: Kenny Rogers and Jamie Moyer are both having fine seasons. Unfortunately, Rogers is 42 years old and Moyer is 44. In Moyer's case, I personally see no reason to give big money to a guy who listens to Lawrence Welk and needed to install a LifeCall unit in him home in case a hip gives out and, like Mrs. Fletcher, cannot get up. With regards to Rogers, the union of Chicagoland video camera operators lobbied the Cubs and threatened to boycott both the annual "Pitchers of the DL" and the "Dumbest Players in the National League" camera shoots, if Rogers was signed.
- Shawn Estes, Terry Mulholland and former Sox hurler James Baldwin: Ha ha ha ho hee ha ho ho ha ha ha ha ha ha hee ho ha... Oh god, I have not laughed this hard since Herman's Head went off the air.
That leaves us with Paul Byrd and Jerrod Washburn. I cannot deny that either pitcher would be a major upgrade over Guzman or Hill or whomever is giving up eight walks and six runs in three and one-third innings. Yet, at the same time, call me naive, but I don't think you can operate a team assuming that a player (or players) will get injured. Prepare for the possibility? Absolutely. But, make unsound financial decisions based on the possibility? That does not seem to make sense to me either.
And who else was available at other positions? Rafael Furcal? They tried but paying a .248 hitter $13 million per season is about as ridiculous as paying Vanilla Ice even a cent more than $3 to sing at your summer barbeque. Johnny Damon? Nobody could have figured that Juan Pierre would be this bad and a long-term contract simply was not in the cards given the eventual ascension of Felix Pee-Ay. Juan Encarnacion, Reggie Sanders or Preston Wilson? Three mediocre players who strike out more than often Skippy Handelman when asking out Mallory***. Re-sign Nomah? To play where? Nomah is having a fine season, buti f asked to play shortstop on a daily basis, would surely have spent the majority of the season watching Mia play in charity soccer games while occupying his reserved spot on the D.L..
And it seems as though nobody wants to give Hendry the proper credit for the signings that he did make. The Cubs had a major hole in the bullpen and filled it by (over)paying for Bobby Howry and Scott Eyre.
Still think that Hendry blew it this off-season? Well, I suppose that, upon further review, you very well might have a point. After all, Mark Bellhorn, Steroid Sammy and Jason Grimsley were also off-season free agents that the Cubs passed on. And you can bet that we would be hanging a World Series banner in Wrigley Field this fall if we only had more double ear-flapped helmets labeled "The Horn" in the dugout, more salsa music in the clubhouse and more of whatever it is that Grimsley could provide in everyone's locker stall (when he says "greenies," he means apple flavored jelly beans, right?).
The bottom line is that Hendry certainly deserves his share of the blame. But, at the end of the day, I believe that he has done an admirable job overall. He has made numerous excellent trades and didn't waste money on overpriced free agents that would provide only minimal gain. Look, it is not like a few additional moves would make that much of a difference. Simply stated, the Cubs are one of the worst teams in baseball and very little was going to change that. Hendry deserves blame. Dusty deserves blame. The Tribune deserves blame. And so do the coaches, scouts, minor league instructors, and, most importantly, the players. In fact, just about the only person in the Cubs' organization that should be kept off the hook is Yosh Kawono.
* Look, I truly do not wish to rename this Blog the "Ozzie Guillen's Random Acts of Insanity" or "Let's Talk About Ozzie Like He Talks About the Cubs," but he is making it awfully difficult to ignore him. He continues to say and do what, in my mind, are statements and actions that can only be described as classless.
For those of you too busy searching the Web for a cheap site where you can buy the Elizabeth Berkeley retrospective DVD to watch the White Sox game last night, A.J. Pierzynski got hit by a pitch twice in the first six and one-half innings of the game. With the Sox losing 6-0 in the bottom of the seventh, Ozzie sent rookie Sean Tracey in to pitch with instructions that he intentionally throw at Rangers' thirdbaseman Hank Blalock. Tracey's first two pitchers were inside but failed to hit Blalock, prompting an angry response from Ozzie. His third pitch was then grounded to second and Blalock was thrown out at first.
That is when the fun began. Ozzie reacted to the ground out like Marcia reacted when she found out that Greg was going to get the attic and not her. He threw a water bottle, stormed out onto the field and yanked Tracey from the game. He then proceeded to yell at the poor kid in the dugout for some time, ultimately reducing Tracey to tears. After the game was over, Tracey was optioned to the minors.
Those of you who have been dedicated readers of the Random Thoughts already know how I feel about intentionally throwing at a hitter, but, for those of you who are new to the RT (Jessica Biel included -- you happy now?), I have reprinted my comments on the issue from a past post below...
"We hear all the time about the "way baseball used to be." How if your pitcher plunked the opposing team's star, the first batter up in the next inning would be earning a free, albeit painful, trip to first base (if he can stand that is). How if you hit a home run off Don Drysdale, during your next trip to the plate, you'd be best served bringing a shield and wearing a football helmet. How if you made Bob Gibson angry, he was abt to fire a 97-mph fastball at your head, laugh at your lifeless body and eat your liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. Every now and then I think about how amazing it is that sports can warp our view of what is right and what is wrong. I think we lose sight of the fact that a baseball is hard and it is absolutely no fun to get struck by a ball travelling at such great speeds. I know that it is likely not a particularily popular opinion, but I don't think that it should ever be appropriate to intentionally throw at a batter. Give the pitcher the right to throw at a batter on purpose and the hitter should be well within his rights to rush the mound with his bat (or club the catcher over the head with your bat if your name just happens to be Juan Marichal."
This morning on Mike & Mike, Greenberg and Golic argued that it is just a "rule of the game." Well, you know what? I read the baseball record book and I must have overlooked the rule that states that it is expected and permissible to intentionally throw at a hitter. I certainly saw the rule that it is illegal for a Chicago Cub player to drive a runner in from third with under two outs. I saw the rule that requires a manager to sit on the bench any player who has home run power and has been acquired from the Texas Rangers. I even saw the rule about how it is illegal to put squirrels in your pants for the purposes of gambling. But nothing on being required to throw at a batter intentionally.
And even if you believe in the "unwritten rules of baseball," Ozzie's reaction was downright appalling. He is a rookie whom you just asked to throw a 92 mph fastball directly at another human being. Maybe the kid, I don't know, had a conscience?
Enough Ozzie. There is no baseball rule that allows you to treat an opposing batter like a dunk tank participant and there is no grinder ball rule that reads "our manager is an idiot," either.
Enjoy your evening.
*** Two Family Ties references in two days! Who was originally cast as Alex P. Keaton but made an 11th hour decision to turn down the role to stay in New York with his ailing father?
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
But Wait There's More...
Sheesh, my mailbox has been absolutely overflowing recently! In fact, it has been so full that a number of letters and packages have apparently spilled out and been taken by people who just happened to be walking by. Included on the list of lost items is my autographed copy of Larry Rothschild's "Guide to Getting In Front of Hitters" (foreward by Kerry Wood and Angel Guzman) which evidently was picked up and read by rookie pitcher Sean Marshall before yesterday's start against the Astros. For those of you too busy helping Random Thoughts commenter Bearister and U.S. soccer coach Bruce Arena try to find a cure for two left feet, Marshall threw a first pitch ball to 11 of the last 13 hitters that he faced last night and, not suprisingly, gave up four runs as a result. Congratulations Sean! You are officially a Cub. Please proceed to the desk on your left to sign up for your official tee time at Dorado Del Mar Golf Club on the lovely island of Puerto Rico, valid during the first week of October for the next twenty years or for as long as you don Cubby Blue. Trust me, it is not likely that you are going to miss a round.
Anyway...back to the mail bag.
* Dan,
I'm absolutely humiliated and simply cannot go on. So, how do you think I should do it? Self-inflicted gunshot or should I just jump in front of St. Louis Ram defensive lineman Leonard Little's Porsche after a night of drinking at the Landing?
Steve Andrade
-- Steve,
Please try not to overreact. Look, a lot worse things could have happened to you. You could have been either Sargeant Pembry or Sargeant Boyle, the two Tennessee guards assigned to watch over the makeshift cell of Dr. Hannibal Lecter (I personally enjoy green beans more that fava beans, but that may just be me). You could have been beaten nearly to death and had your bloody body buried alive like Nicky Santoro. You could have even been trampled to death by a bunch of wildebeests, leaving your much too young son so guilt-ridden that he winds up living with a warthog and a meerkat. Heck, you could have been forced to watch a Chicago Sky game.
Wait a minute... You're the dude who was taken off the Kansas City Royals' 40-man roster and designated for assignment to make way for newly claimed Todd Wellemeyer, aren't you? Never mind. See you on the other side.
* Hey gang,
How about the Arena League Champion Chicago Rush? Not sure if you know this but my Rush defeated the Orlando Predators 69-61 to win Arena Bowl XX. I was so happy that I smoked seven cigars last Saturday night and took a trip to visit my buddy Ricky Williams in Toronto on Sunday. I really do not remember much other than eating a lot of potato chips, listening to Bob Marley and watching Dazed and Confused. Wooderson is the coolest.
Anyway, with the Bears win in Super Bowl XX that makes me awfully successful in games numbered XX, huh?
Ditka
-- Da Coach,
How is Ricky doing? I really hope that he realizes that he needs to change his ways to get back into the NFL. Unfortunately, if he stays on the same road, his career is sure to go up in smoke. And that would be a drag.
By the way, I hope that you described the game as the Arena Championship and not the Arena Bowl. That would confuse the heck out of him and he would wonder why he wasn't included in the festivities.
Anyway, yes, your achievements in XX games is quite remarkable. Unfortunately, Diana is not as impressed with your performance in XXX games. Looks like that Levitra is not all that it is cracked up to be, huh? Please don't shoot the messenger, but she is warning that she may start going on boat trips with the Minnesota Vikings or start hanging out with Marv Albert and Frank Gifford if things do not change. And if things really take a turn for the worse, she is thinking about going to a movie with Paul Reubens.
* Mr. Waghner,
Coach Riley told me that you have criticized a lot of the basketball experts for trumpeting my game recently and chastised those who are putting me on the same level as Michael Jordan. Does last night's performance prove to you that I am as good as they all say? Forty-three points and 13 rebounds ain't too shabby.
Dwyane
-- Mr. Wadhe
Michael wouldn't have missed the free throw with 1.4 seconds left. Better luck next time.
* Dannnnn,
Cannnn youuu believeee thattt theeee Durhammm policeeee actuallyyyy hadddd theeee nerveee tooo arresttt meeeee? {hiccup} I onlyyyyy hadddd likeeee theeeee beersssss. Don'ttttt theyyy knowwww whooooo I ammmmm? {burp} I betterrrrr getttt Coachhhhh Kkkkk toooo fixxxxx allllll thisssss. Grantttt Hillll neverrrrr gottttt treatedddd likeeee thissss.
J.J.
-- J.J.,
I thought I told you to stay away from the Lacrosse team!
Or were you are Christian Laettner celebrating the failure of U.S. Senate Joint Resultion 1 again? Hoping to get drafted by the Golden State Warriors, are you?
* Dan,
This is getting ridiculous! Ted Phillips and Jerry Angelo don't seem to understand how great we are. Drew Rosehaus tells us all the time that we are on par with Brian Urlacher and LaDainian Tomlinson. He says that we should just hang out at home and hold press conferences while doing sit-ups on our driveways (by the way, he also said that he will try and get us a commercial with Nicolette Sheridan this year). Do you think that either of us will play for the Bears this season?
Lance and Thomas
* Guys,
You have to remember that it is the Bears that we are talking about here. Unfortunately, that means that all the normal rules can be thrown out the window. I mean, ultimately, who knows what Phillips and Angelo are going to do?
Of course, if I was in charge of the Bears, you would both be on the field. Let's start with you Lance, as your situation is a little less complicated. Are you as good as Urlacher? No. But at this point, you are light years better than Hunter Hillenmeyer, T.J. Hollowell, Leon Joe, Jamar Williams, Rod Wilson and whatever other linebackers they plan on bringing in to compete for your spot. So, unless Otis Wilson (who actually looks like he has spent a little too much time recently hanging out with Tina Yothers -- who is a contestant on VH-1's next season of Celebrity Fit Club -- at Old Country Buffet) or Wilbur Marshall plans on coming out of retirement, or Bobby Boucher and Daniel Bateman suddenly become available you ought to be safe.
(Speaking of hanging out with Tina Yothers, actor Jon Favreau who played animalistic linebacker Daniel Bateman in The Replacements, looks like he totally cleaned out an Old Country Buffet -- tables, chairs, food tays, silverware and all. I think he even ate a family of six when they refused to give up their apple pie).
Once again, however, please keep in mind that this is the Bears we are talking about.
Thomas, your situation is a little more troublesome. You, of course, have to contend with the presence of Gayle Sayers, er... Walter Payton, er... Cedric Benson and most experts seem convinced that a guy who was the #4 pick in the 2005 draft and makes enough money to buy 152 Old Country Buffet fanchises has to be on the field. Now, we all know that this is ridiculous logic. How many of you ran out and bought a fancy new cappuccino maker, used it for three days, and now have it collecting dust behind the salad shooter, curly fry maker and the egg wave in the cabinet, as you make a daily run to Starbucks? How many of you have wasted your hard earned dough on a fancy new Big Bertha titanium driver only to quickly discover that you can't hit the ball any further or any straighter than you can with your trusty ol' Sam Snead vintage wood? Thomas, you're the Sam Snead. Benson, on the other hand, is the Big Bertha, or even worse...the Curtis Enis.
* Dan,
I am an avid reader of the Random Thoughts, but must admit that I am getting a little upset. Almost every day it is the same old thing...Jessica Alba this and Jessica Alba that. I am much hotter. At least give me an occasional a mention or two.
Jessica Biel
-- Jessica,
You know...I think you may have a point. Now that I think about it, you really have not been given a fair shot to prove your hotness. In fact, I propose the first annual battle of the Jessicas. Swimsuit competition, evening gowns, lingerie, jello wrestling, twister. Fox would probably telecast it. Sarah Jessica Parker you can come too. Jessica Simpson? Hell yeah...
* Mr. Hot Stuff,
What about me?
Pvt J. Lynch
-- Sorry, you're five minutes of fame have officially expired. Please return to the Hardee's or the Shop n' Save or the coal mine or wherever the heck you worked before heading to the Middle East. I hear (you knew this one was coming...) the Old Country Buffet in Morgantown is hiring...
* Mr. Wagner
Howdy. I enjoyed my day at the Berto Center. Scott Skiles seems like a heck of a good coach and with Tyson Chandler the only real competition at the power forward/ center spot, I figure that I would be able to slide right into a starting spot with the Bulls should they decide to select me with the #2 pick in the upcoming NBA draft. Do you think I will be wearing red this winter?
LaMarcus
-- Mr. Aldridge,
If I was a betting man, I would put my money on you're becoming a Bull (assuming that LSU forward Tyrus Thomas goes #1). As you mentioned, the Bulls are desparate for a big man and you are hyped as a post player with decent offensive skills and an NBA-ready body. I personally am not sold on you as a future superstar, but John Paxson and the Bulls' scouting staff still do not ask my opinion. I have to admit that if I were asked, I would be tempted to show them a picture of Granville Waiters or a Brad Sellers highlight film (which happens to be about the same length as a Elizabeth Berkeley career retrospective, but with a lot less scoring).
That said, just as I warned Lance and Thomas that you have to throw the normal rules out the window when you are dealing with the Bears, the same word of caution applies to the Bulls. After all, Chicago teams are famous for pinching pennies wherever possible. Think of the money in stitching that the team could save by drafting either Brandon Roy or Rusy Gay. So, if you really want to play for the Bulls, I recommend changing your name to LaMarcus Kerr. Short, sweet and it will bring back a lot of good memories.
But to answer your specific question, the answer is no. Regardless of whether you get drafted by the Bulls or not, I expect the team to wear those super groovy blue and red Stags uniforms. Or perhaps the team can just go with an early 80's dreamsicle Houston Astros look. Now that would be cool.
* Dan,
We stink. Plain and simple. Sitting with a record of 1-8 and having not come within seven points of our opponent during our eight game losing streak, we are desperate for help. Is there anything you can suggest?
Dave Cowens
-- Coach Cowens
Okay, this is what you do. Catch the first flight you can to Las Vegas. Start at Mandalay Bay and work your way north up the strip, casino by casino, stopping at each and every craps table. When you spot a 6'8 black "man" covered in tattoos and body piercings and wearing a wedding dress and a giant Dr. Seuss hat, present said "man" with a contract. Trust me. Not only will he not be afraid to play the part of a woman, he will be more than happy to accept the job. In the last couple of months, said "man" has played professional basketball games in Finland (where he attempted 13 three-pointers) and England, played an exhibition game in the Philippines (where he blew off a welcome reception during which children were prepared to sing him a special song and embarrased himself by flaunting a traditional Philippine custom), appeared on Celebrity Big Brother in the U.K. (where he arrived at the house with no underwear and a box of "extra large" condoms and was the fifth person given the boot), ans was named the commissioner of the Lingerie Football League, previously mentioned in the Random Thoughts. Play for the Sky? I'm sure "he" will not mind.
While in Vegas, you may also wish to visit the Clark County Peneteniary. Ask for Grandmama.
* Mr. Randum Thoghts,
U were verry meen to me when I played fur the Cubbs. I do knot understan why u weer so meen. I neveer realy hadd a chance to sho my reel tailents. I am happie that I no longer half to puut up wiff yor critisizum. Scruw u.
J.H
-- S.H.H.
It's frickin' hot in Texas, ain't it?
Anyway...back to the mail bag.
* Dan,
I'm absolutely humiliated and simply cannot go on. So, how do you think I should do it? Self-inflicted gunshot or should I just jump in front of St. Louis Ram defensive lineman Leonard Little's Porsche after a night of drinking at the Landing?
Steve Andrade
-- Steve,
Please try not to overreact. Look, a lot worse things could have happened to you. You could have been either Sargeant Pembry or Sargeant Boyle, the two Tennessee guards assigned to watch over the makeshift cell of Dr. Hannibal Lecter (I personally enjoy green beans more that fava beans, but that may just be me). You could have been beaten nearly to death and had your bloody body buried alive like Nicky Santoro. You could have even been trampled to death by a bunch of wildebeests, leaving your much too young son so guilt-ridden that he winds up living with a warthog and a meerkat. Heck, you could have been forced to watch a Chicago Sky game.
Wait a minute... You're the dude who was taken off the Kansas City Royals' 40-man roster and designated for assignment to make way for newly claimed Todd Wellemeyer, aren't you? Never mind. See you on the other side.
* Hey gang,
How about the Arena League Champion Chicago Rush? Not sure if you know this but my Rush defeated the Orlando Predators 69-61 to win Arena Bowl XX. I was so happy that I smoked seven cigars last Saturday night and took a trip to visit my buddy Ricky Williams in Toronto on Sunday. I really do not remember much other than eating a lot of potato chips, listening to Bob Marley and watching Dazed and Confused. Wooderson is the coolest.
Anyway, with the Bears win in Super Bowl XX that makes me awfully successful in games numbered XX, huh?
Ditka
-- Da Coach,
How is Ricky doing? I really hope that he realizes that he needs to change his ways to get back into the NFL. Unfortunately, if he stays on the same road, his career is sure to go up in smoke. And that would be a drag.
By the way, I hope that you described the game as the Arena Championship and not the Arena Bowl. That would confuse the heck out of him and he would wonder why he wasn't included in the festivities.
Anyway, yes, your achievements in XX games is quite remarkable. Unfortunately, Diana is not as impressed with your performance in XXX games. Looks like that Levitra is not all that it is cracked up to be, huh? Please don't shoot the messenger, but she is warning that she may start going on boat trips with the Minnesota Vikings or start hanging out with Marv Albert and Frank Gifford if things do not change. And if things really take a turn for the worse, she is thinking about going to a movie with Paul Reubens.
* Mr. Waghner,
Coach Riley told me that you have criticized a lot of the basketball experts for trumpeting my game recently and chastised those who are putting me on the same level as Michael Jordan. Does last night's performance prove to you that I am as good as they all say? Forty-three points and 13 rebounds ain't too shabby.
Dwyane
-- Mr. Wadhe
Michael wouldn't have missed the free throw with 1.4 seconds left. Better luck next time.
* Dannnnn,
Cannnn youuu believeee thattt theeee Durhammm policeeee actuallyyyy hadddd theeee nerveee tooo arresttt meeeee? {hiccup} I onlyyyyy hadddd likeeee theeeee beersssss. Don'ttttt theyyy knowwww whooooo I ammmmm? {burp} I betterrrrr getttt Coachhhhh Kkkkk toooo fixxxxx allllll thisssss. Grantttt Hillll neverrrrr gottttt treatedddd likeeee thissss.
J.J.
-- J.J.,
I thought I told you to stay away from the Lacrosse team!
Or were you are Christian Laettner celebrating the failure of U.S. Senate Joint Resultion 1 again? Hoping to get drafted by the Golden State Warriors, are you?
* Dan,
This is getting ridiculous! Ted Phillips and Jerry Angelo don't seem to understand how great we are. Drew Rosehaus tells us all the time that we are on par with Brian Urlacher and LaDainian Tomlinson. He says that we should just hang out at home and hold press conferences while doing sit-ups on our driveways (by the way, he also said that he will try and get us a commercial with Nicolette Sheridan this year). Do you think that either of us will play for the Bears this season?
Lance and Thomas
* Guys,
You have to remember that it is the Bears that we are talking about here. Unfortunately, that means that all the normal rules can be thrown out the window. I mean, ultimately, who knows what Phillips and Angelo are going to do?
Of course, if I was in charge of the Bears, you would both be on the field. Let's start with you Lance, as your situation is a little less complicated. Are you as good as Urlacher? No. But at this point, you are light years better than Hunter Hillenmeyer, T.J. Hollowell, Leon Joe, Jamar Williams, Rod Wilson and whatever other linebackers they plan on bringing in to compete for your spot. So, unless Otis Wilson (who actually looks like he has spent a little too much time recently hanging out with Tina Yothers -- who is a contestant on VH-1's next season of Celebrity Fit Club -- at Old Country Buffet) or Wilbur Marshall plans on coming out of retirement, or Bobby Boucher and Daniel Bateman suddenly become available you ought to be safe.
(Speaking of hanging out with Tina Yothers, actor Jon Favreau who played animalistic linebacker Daniel Bateman in The Replacements, looks like he totally cleaned out an Old Country Buffet -- tables, chairs, food tays, silverware and all. I think he even ate a family of six when they refused to give up their apple pie).
Once again, however, please keep in mind that this is the Bears we are talking about.
Thomas, your situation is a little more troublesome. You, of course, have to contend with the presence of Gayle Sayers, er... Walter Payton, er... Cedric Benson and most experts seem convinced that a guy who was the #4 pick in the 2005 draft and makes enough money to buy 152 Old Country Buffet fanchises has to be on the field. Now, we all know that this is ridiculous logic. How many of you ran out and bought a fancy new cappuccino maker, used it for three days, and now have it collecting dust behind the salad shooter, curly fry maker and the egg wave in the cabinet, as you make a daily run to Starbucks? How many of you have wasted your hard earned dough on a fancy new Big Bertha titanium driver only to quickly discover that you can't hit the ball any further or any straighter than you can with your trusty ol' Sam Snead vintage wood? Thomas, you're the Sam Snead. Benson, on the other hand, is the Big Bertha, or even worse...the Curtis Enis.
* Dan,
I am an avid reader of the Random Thoughts, but must admit that I am getting a little upset. Almost every day it is the same old thing...Jessica Alba this and Jessica Alba that. I am much hotter. At least give me an occasional a mention or two.
Jessica Biel
-- Jessica,
You know...I think you may have a point. Now that I think about it, you really have not been given a fair shot to prove your hotness. In fact, I propose the first annual battle of the Jessicas. Swimsuit competition, evening gowns, lingerie, jello wrestling, twister. Fox would probably telecast it. Sarah Jessica Parker you can come too. Jessica Simpson? Hell yeah...
* Mr. Hot Stuff,
What about me?
Pvt J. Lynch
-- Sorry, you're five minutes of fame have officially expired. Please return to the Hardee's or the Shop n' Save or the coal mine or wherever the heck you worked before heading to the Middle East. I hear (you knew this one was coming...) the Old Country Buffet in Morgantown is hiring...
* Mr. Wagner
Howdy. I enjoyed my day at the Berto Center. Scott Skiles seems like a heck of a good coach and with Tyson Chandler the only real competition at the power forward/ center spot, I figure that I would be able to slide right into a starting spot with the Bulls should they decide to select me with the #2 pick in the upcoming NBA draft. Do you think I will be wearing red this winter?
LaMarcus
-- Mr. Aldridge,
If I was a betting man, I would put my money on you're becoming a Bull (assuming that LSU forward Tyrus Thomas goes #1). As you mentioned, the Bulls are desparate for a big man and you are hyped as a post player with decent offensive skills and an NBA-ready body. I personally am not sold on you as a future superstar, but John Paxson and the Bulls' scouting staff still do not ask my opinion. I have to admit that if I were asked, I would be tempted to show them a picture of Granville Waiters or a Brad Sellers highlight film (which happens to be about the same length as a Elizabeth Berkeley career retrospective, but with a lot less scoring).
That said, just as I warned Lance and Thomas that you have to throw the normal rules out the window when you are dealing with the Bears, the same word of caution applies to the Bulls. After all, Chicago teams are famous for pinching pennies wherever possible. Think of the money in stitching that the team could save by drafting either Brandon Roy or Rusy Gay. So, if you really want to play for the Bulls, I recommend changing your name to LaMarcus Kerr. Short, sweet and it will bring back a lot of good memories.
But to answer your specific question, the answer is no. Regardless of whether you get drafted by the Bulls or not, I expect the team to wear those super groovy blue and red Stags uniforms. Or perhaps the team can just go with an early 80's dreamsicle Houston Astros look. Now that would be cool.
* Dan,
We stink. Plain and simple. Sitting with a record of 1-8 and having not come within seven points of our opponent during our eight game losing streak, we are desperate for help. Is there anything you can suggest?
Dave Cowens
-- Coach Cowens
Okay, this is what you do. Catch the first flight you can to Las Vegas. Start at Mandalay Bay and work your way north up the strip, casino by casino, stopping at each and every craps table. When you spot a 6'8 black "man" covered in tattoos and body piercings and wearing a wedding dress and a giant Dr. Seuss hat, present said "man" with a contract. Trust me. Not only will he not be afraid to play the part of a woman, he will be more than happy to accept the job. In the last couple of months, said "man" has played professional basketball games in Finland (where he attempted 13 three-pointers) and England, played an exhibition game in the Philippines (where he blew off a welcome reception during which children were prepared to sing him a special song and embarrased himself by flaunting a traditional Philippine custom), appeared on Celebrity Big Brother in the U.K. (where he arrived at the house with no underwear and a box of "extra large" condoms and was the fifth person given the boot), ans was named the commissioner of the Lingerie Football League, previously mentioned in the Random Thoughts. Play for the Sky? I'm sure "he" will not mind.
While in Vegas, you may also wish to visit the Clark County Peneteniary. Ask for Grandmama.
* Mr. Randum Thoghts,
U were verry meen to me when I played fur the Cubbs. I do knot understan why u weer so meen. I neveer realy hadd a chance to sho my reel tailents. I am happie that I no longer half to puut up wiff yor critisizum. Scruw u.
J.H
-- S.H.H.
It's frickin' hot in Texas, ain't it?
Monday, June 12, 2006
Mail Time!!!
Let’s see here… a bill for that A.J. Pierzynski punching bag that I ordered from www.baseballplayersIhate.com, an invitation to Rick Sutcliffe's kegger, an unmarked package from Jason Grimsley, a notice of lawsuit from the Irish-American Anti-Defamatory League (crap, maybe last Thursday’s post was not such a good idea after all). Hey, where’s all the good stuff?
Ahhhhh, here we go…
* Dear Dan,
I hear that you have been to Seattle. Any good restaurant recommendations, dude? And do you know where Shaun Alexander’s house is? Darren would like an autograph.
Dusty
-- Dear Dusty,
Sorry man, despite the fact that the majority of Cubs fans would like to see you pack your tea tree chewing sticks and hit the road, my gut tells me that you are staying right here in sweet home Chicago. Hendry has too much invested in you as the team’s manager and is not going to just let you skip off to Seattle to teach the Mariners how not to execute the fundamentals of the game. Ichiro, for one, is thrilled. The former Japanese superstar actually enjoys playing the game the right way. Third baseman Adrian Beltre, on the other hand, will be disappointed to hear the news. He saw your potential arrival in the Emerald City as the perfect opportunity to continue to make gazillions of dollars without producing a lick on the field, while being held completely unaccountable for his failures. Aramis called him and told him that its pretty sweet set-up.
Besides Hendry can't seem to find Don Baylor's phone number.
And I am sorry to say that, unfortunately, I do not know where Shaun’s house is. Either go to the aquatic mammals section of the Seattle Zoo and ask Mike Holmgren or visit the nearest hair restoration clinic and check with Matt Hasselbeck. Good luck.
See you in the cellar in 2007.
* Dan,
I just received an invitation to my neighbor’s son’s Bar Mitzvah. It’s in August in Glencoe. Will I be able to go?
Todd
-- Todd,
Unfortunately, unless your new employer happens to be scheduled to send you on a business trip to the Friendly Confines over the weekend of young Ethan Rubenstein’s big day, I’d send my regrets. Too bad, really. Bar Mitzvahs have really become key events on one's social calendar.
I remember back when I was thirteen, the day a Jewish boy turned into a man was marked by a small luncheon of brisket, a couple of risk-free dances to the music of Neil Diamond and, if you were lucky, the receipt of seventy-three $25 savings bonds and a Bible as a gift from the Catholic kid who really didn’t get it. Now a days, Mr. and Dr. Schwartzman are renting out Great America, hiring Third Eye Blind to rock the house, and all the girls are reportedly lining to up really make sure that the honored guest of the day becomes a man. Try and guess which one gets the special surprise.
Oh well, enjoy the playoffs.
By the way, I’d tell Juan to pack his bags, too. Some contending team is going to absolutely love their new pinch runner! And we on the North Side are going to love Felix Pee-Ay.
* Hey Cudjoekey,
Look, I’ve got a major problem here. I cannot seem to go more than two days without getting injured. I’m starting to honestly believe that I may be better off as a closer. What do you think of my chances of becoming the next Dennis Eckersley?
Kid K
-- Kid DL,
The next Eckersley, eh? First of all, start drinking. And then when you think that you have had enough, drink some more. Next, grow a groovy mustache. Think Tom Selleck. Only bushier.
All kidding aside, don’t let anyone dissuade you from your dreams. And dream big! If you think that your best chance to resurrect your career is as a closer, go for it! Don’t listen to all those naysayers who argue that your arm can never withstand pitching multiple days in a row. You’re still a Cub, aren’t you? They only find themselves in a save situation like once every eight days or so. Surely your arm can take that. It’s not like you are Mark Prior or something.
Just always remember my advice…follow your dreams. If Sarah wants you to stop dressing in that pretty flowered emsemble, tell her to take a hike.
* Mr. Wagner,
The current unbalanced schedule in baseball already receives a lot of criticism so I figure that making a few small changes won't hurt. Any chance I can talk Bud Selig into letting the Reds play the Cubs 162 times per year?
Adam Dunn
-- Adam,
It would seem to be a win-win situation, wouldn’t it? On one hand, the Cubs have actually played quite competitively versus Cincinnati this year and 162 games against the Red Legs could possibly allow them to stay in the race at least until August. Further, you would likely have the greatest season in major league history. I’ve noticed that in 12 games versus the Cubs this year, you have come to the plate 39 times, have scored 16 runs, have 13 hits (.333 avg), and seven home runs! In 174 at-bats versus the rest of the league, you have only 13 home runs and your combined average is only .230. Seeing Gopherball Glendon and a bunch of other guys who have less control than a 15-year old boy at a Robert Mapplethorpe exhibit take the hill must be nice.
Yeah, but just wait until we get Mark Prior back.
By the way, Bronson Arroyo just called. He LOVES your idea.
* Dear Blackhawks Fan #53 (of 57):
I wanted to write to officially introduce myself. My name is Mark Hardy and I am delighted to be the newest member of Head Coach Trent Yawney’s coaching staff. I feel that my time in Chicago will be tremendously productive and I will be able to help Coach Yawney develop Tuomo Rutuu, Rene Bourque, Radim Vrbata and the rest of the young Blackhawk skaters into terrific players. I look forward to bringing a Stanley Cup to the owner Bill Wirtz, the entire Blackhawks organization and the city of Chicago. See you at the United Center in October!
Mark Hardy
-- What in the heck are you talking about?
* Dan,
Just wondering…do the White Sox miss me?
Big Hurt
Big Skirt,
Yes, I’m fairly confident that the pigeons that fly around U.S. Comiskular miss you terribly. Now that you have taken your nostrils to Oakland, they need to find a new place to spend the winter.
Now what do you honestly think, Frank? After all, your replacement leaps tall buildings in a single bound, rescues cats from trees for little girls, knits quilts and sweaters for the neighborhood elderly, and always remembers to block out the naughty pay-per-view channels when on road trips. Did I mention that he is hitting .784, has 68 home runs and 218 RBI and is a lock to win the MVP?
What do you mean he is actually only hitting .282? That he actually has less home runs than Alfonso Soriano and Ryan Howard? That the guy that the Sox gave up to acquire Jim is hitting .290 with a respectable 7 home runs? That the Sox new everyday centerfielder is hitting .a Paul Blanco-esque (or is it Henry Bako-esque?) .163? That you, yourself, have 16 home runs and 38 RBI (let’s conveniently forget about your .235 average…)? I think I had better get some aspirin for some of our South Side friends.
So, back to your question...do the White Sox miss you? Well, Kenny Williams certainly does not miss you hitting him up for money every week. Sox fans don't miss your incessant whining. And, lets be honest here, the Sox still have an excellent team that will contend the entire season. So, I guess the answer ultimately is no.
That said, last year at this time, the team did not have any holes in their lineup, whereas, today, you have to hope that your #8 hitter gets hit in his humongous ass to reach first base and you have to wonder whether your #9 hitter will be able to even hit his weight.
What do you say, we just let Sox fans continue to live in a fantasy world where Jim Thome is the undisputed league MVP, Tail-Chaser Anderson is going to break out of his slump any day now, decent middle relief won’t be necessary because the starters are magically going to pitch complete games again, and Ozzie Guillen is a soft spoken and polite role model. After all, a couple of pints of Guiness and anything seems possible.
* Dan,
Have you seen Shaq? We sure could use him.
Stan Van Gundy, er… Pat Riley
-- Traitor,
No.
Wait, I think I may have seen him at Kobe Bryant's Birthday party.
Retirw tsetaerg sdlrow,
Lleh eht tahw. eceiced t’nac yllaer I. Naem taht si? Hsarc elcycrotom suoires yrev a ni devlovni tsuj saw ohw yug a no gnikcip m’I wonk I.
Kcabretrauq
Big Ben,
Next time try listening to your coach, will ya? Heck, even Terry Bradshaw who makes Paris Hilton look like a Rhodes Scholar, warned you. Who's giving you advice these days? Billy Idol?
There is a lesson to be learned in all this... Always listen to those who are only trying to help you and give you good advice. Harry, Ron and Hermione warned Dumbledore not to trust Snape and now Hogwarts is without its Head Master (or so we are lead to believe… Hey, I gave you Memorial Day weekend to catch up. Don’t blame me if I just gave away the ending to Book 6). Peter and Bobby were expressly told not to play ball in the house and their ill-behavior cost Carol her favorite vase and lead to an awful lot of embarrassment at the dinner table. The Freelings were warned by the frickin’ house to get the heck out and when they decided to stick around anyway, poor little Carol Anne ended up stuck in the TV. You see, bad things can happen when you do not listen to those who are just trying to help you.
You had a wonderful chance to place you name in the same company as Elway, Aikman and Favre. Now it looks as though the only company that you might keep is Jay Williams, Kellen Winslow Jr. and Fonzi.
Ohhh…..the Victoria’s Secret catalog. I’ve gotta go…
Ahhhhh, here we go…
* Dear Dan,
I hear that you have been to Seattle. Any good restaurant recommendations, dude? And do you know where Shaun Alexander’s house is? Darren would like an autograph.
Dusty
-- Dear Dusty,
Sorry man, despite the fact that the majority of Cubs fans would like to see you pack your tea tree chewing sticks and hit the road, my gut tells me that you are staying right here in sweet home Chicago. Hendry has too much invested in you as the team’s manager and is not going to just let you skip off to Seattle to teach the Mariners how not to execute the fundamentals of the game. Ichiro, for one, is thrilled. The former Japanese superstar actually enjoys playing the game the right way. Third baseman Adrian Beltre, on the other hand, will be disappointed to hear the news. He saw your potential arrival in the Emerald City as the perfect opportunity to continue to make gazillions of dollars without producing a lick on the field, while being held completely unaccountable for his failures. Aramis called him and told him that its pretty sweet set-up.
Besides Hendry can't seem to find Don Baylor's phone number.
And I am sorry to say that, unfortunately, I do not know where Shaun’s house is. Either go to the aquatic mammals section of the Seattle Zoo and ask Mike Holmgren or visit the nearest hair restoration clinic and check with Matt Hasselbeck. Good luck.
See you in the cellar in 2007.
* Dan,
I just received an invitation to my neighbor’s son’s Bar Mitzvah. It’s in August in Glencoe. Will I be able to go?
Todd
-- Todd,
Unfortunately, unless your new employer happens to be scheduled to send you on a business trip to the Friendly Confines over the weekend of young Ethan Rubenstein’s big day, I’d send my regrets. Too bad, really. Bar Mitzvahs have really become key events on one's social calendar.
I remember back when I was thirteen, the day a Jewish boy turned into a man was marked by a small luncheon of brisket, a couple of risk-free dances to the music of Neil Diamond and, if you were lucky, the receipt of seventy-three $25 savings bonds and a Bible as a gift from the Catholic kid who really didn’t get it. Now a days, Mr. and Dr. Schwartzman are renting out Great America, hiring Third Eye Blind to rock the house, and all the girls are reportedly lining to up really make sure that the honored guest of the day becomes a man. Try and guess which one gets the special surprise.
Oh well, enjoy the playoffs.
By the way, I’d tell Juan to pack his bags, too. Some contending team is going to absolutely love their new pinch runner! And we on the North Side are going to love Felix Pee-Ay.
* Hey Cudjoekey,
Look, I’ve got a major problem here. I cannot seem to go more than two days without getting injured. I’m starting to honestly believe that I may be better off as a closer. What do you think of my chances of becoming the next Dennis Eckersley?
Kid K
-- Kid DL,
The next Eckersley, eh? First of all, start drinking. And then when you think that you have had enough, drink some more. Next, grow a groovy mustache. Think Tom Selleck. Only bushier.
All kidding aside, don’t let anyone dissuade you from your dreams. And dream big! If you think that your best chance to resurrect your career is as a closer, go for it! Don’t listen to all those naysayers who argue that your arm can never withstand pitching multiple days in a row. You’re still a Cub, aren’t you? They only find themselves in a save situation like once every eight days or so. Surely your arm can take that. It’s not like you are Mark Prior or something.
Just always remember my advice…follow your dreams. If Sarah wants you to stop dressing in that pretty flowered emsemble, tell her to take a hike.
* Mr. Wagner,
The current unbalanced schedule in baseball already receives a lot of criticism so I figure that making a few small changes won't hurt. Any chance I can talk Bud Selig into letting the Reds play the Cubs 162 times per year?
Adam Dunn
-- Adam,
It would seem to be a win-win situation, wouldn’t it? On one hand, the Cubs have actually played quite competitively versus Cincinnati this year and 162 games against the Red Legs could possibly allow them to stay in the race at least until August. Further, you would likely have the greatest season in major league history. I’ve noticed that in 12 games versus the Cubs this year, you have come to the plate 39 times, have scored 16 runs, have 13 hits (.333 avg), and seven home runs! In 174 at-bats versus the rest of the league, you have only 13 home runs and your combined average is only .230. Seeing Gopherball Glendon and a bunch of other guys who have less control than a 15-year old boy at a Robert Mapplethorpe exhibit take the hill must be nice.
Yeah, but just wait until we get Mark Prior back.
By the way, Bronson Arroyo just called. He LOVES your idea.
* Dear Blackhawks Fan #53 (of 57):
I wanted to write to officially introduce myself. My name is Mark Hardy and I am delighted to be the newest member of Head Coach Trent Yawney’s coaching staff. I feel that my time in Chicago will be tremendously productive and I will be able to help Coach Yawney develop Tuomo Rutuu, Rene Bourque, Radim Vrbata and the rest of the young Blackhawk skaters into terrific players. I look forward to bringing a Stanley Cup to the owner Bill Wirtz, the entire Blackhawks organization and the city of Chicago. See you at the United Center in October!
Mark Hardy
-- What in the heck are you talking about?
* Dan,
Just wondering…do the White Sox miss me?
Big Hurt
Big Skirt,
Yes, I’m fairly confident that the pigeons that fly around U.S. Comiskular miss you terribly. Now that you have taken your nostrils to Oakland, they need to find a new place to spend the winter.
Now what do you honestly think, Frank? After all, your replacement leaps tall buildings in a single bound, rescues cats from trees for little girls, knits quilts and sweaters for the neighborhood elderly, and always remembers to block out the naughty pay-per-view channels when on road trips. Did I mention that he is hitting .784, has 68 home runs and 218 RBI and is a lock to win the MVP?
What do you mean he is actually only hitting .282? That he actually has less home runs than Alfonso Soriano and Ryan Howard? That the guy that the Sox gave up to acquire Jim is hitting .290 with a respectable 7 home runs? That the Sox new everyday centerfielder is hitting .a Paul Blanco-esque (or is it Henry Bako-esque?) .163? That you, yourself, have 16 home runs and 38 RBI (let’s conveniently forget about your .235 average…)? I think I had better get some aspirin for some of our South Side friends.
So, back to your question...do the White Sox miss you? Well, Kenny Williams certainly does not miss you hitting him up for money every week. Sox fans don't miss your incessant whining. And, lets be honest here, the Sox still have an excellent team that will contend the entire season. So, I guess the answer ultimately is no.
That said, last year at this time, the team did not have any holes in their lineup, whereas, today, you have to hope that your #8 hitter gets hit in his humongous ass to reach first base and you have to wonder whether your #9 hitter will be able to even hit his weight.
What do you say, we just let Sox fans continue to live in a fantasy world where Jim Thome is the undisputed league MVP, Tail-Chaser Anderson is going to break out of his slump any day now, decent middle relief won’t be necessary because the starters are magically going to pitch complete games again, and Ozzie Guillen is a soft spoken and polite role model. After all, a couple of pints of Guiness and anything seems possible.
* Dan,
Have you seen Shaq? We sure could use him.
Stan Van Gundy, er… Pat Riley
-- Traitor,
No.
Wait, I think I may have seen him at Kobe Bryant's Birthday party.
Retirw tsetaerg sdlrow,
Lleh eht tahw. eceiced t’nac yllaer I. Naem taht si? Hsarc elcycrotom suoires yrev a ni devlovni tsuj saw ohw yug a no gnikcip m’I wonk I.
Kcabretrauq
Big Ben,
Next time try listening to your coach, will ya? Heck, even Terry Bradshaw who makes Paris Hilton look like a Rhodes Scholar, warned you. Who's giving you advice these days? Billy Idol?
There is a lesson to be learned in all this... Always listen to those who are only trying to help you and give you good advice. Harry, Ron and Hermione warned Dumbledore not to trust Snape and now Hogwarts is without its Head Master (or so we are lead to believe… Hey, I gave you Memorial Day weekend to catch up. Don’t blame me if I just gave away the ending to Book 6). Peter and Bobby were expressly told not to play ball in the house and their ill-behavior cost Carol her favorite vase and lead to an awful lot of embarrassment at the dinner table. The Freelings were warned by the frickin’ house to get the heck out and when they decided to stick around anyway, poor little Carol Anne ended up stuck in the TV. You see, bad things can happen when you do not listen to those who are just trying to help you.
You had a wonderful chance to place you name in the same company as Elway, Aikman and Favre. Now it looks as though the only company that you might keep is Jay Williams, Kellen Winslow Jr. and Fonzi.
Ohhh…..the Victoria’s Secret catalog. I’ve gotta go…
Better Call Dr. James Andrews...
Sorry all. Looks like my start is being pushed back one day due to shoulder soreness, yeah... shoulder soreness. Blame Kerry.
I expect to be back on the hill tomorrow.
I expect to be back on the hill tomorrow.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Let's Just Send Them to Bed Without Any Supper
One run in seven innings against Wandy Rodriguez. Seven scoreless frames against Chris Sampson, who was making the first start of his major league career. A single tally on a first inning solo home run by Tony Womack against native-Conch Bronson Arroyo. Not to mention, nary a scratch hit last night against former Cub reliever Kent Mercker and his 6.39 ERA. Not good.
But please do not fret Cubs' fans. I believe that I have solved the team's offensive woes and season-long allergy to the home run. The solution is actually pretty simple. Sign Jason Grimsley and sign him quick. Just make sure that he brings along his "kits" and his coffee pots and all of his Latino friends. At this point, the Cubs need all the help they can get.
Ahhhh yes, good ol' Jason Grimsley. Major league baseball's answer to "Sammy the Bull" Gravano and Linda Tripp (did you know that after the whole Clinton-Lewinsky-Cigar affiar, Tripp had extensive plastic surgery -- a good idea -- and now runs a year-round Christmas store in Middleburg, Virginia -- perhaps not such a good idea).
Look, I am not going to use this space to simply rehash my feelings on the steroid controversy in baseball (if you are a newbie to the Random Thoughts, I encourage you to read the March 30 post "The Plague on the House of Baseball"), but to let the Grimsley/ HGH story pass by without comment, in my mind, would be foolish.
First, a little background about the central figure in the scandal. Grimsley's 15-year major league career includes stints with seven different major league teams (not to mention time spent in the spring training camps of three more teams). This essentially makes him baseball's equivalent of basketball journeyman (in every sense of the word) Tyrone Corbin. For the record, former DePaul star Corbin played for nine teams in his 16-year NBA career. It also means that he has played with (and presumably has knowledge of the habits of) hundred of current and former players, including intriguing possibilities Steroid Sammy, Rafael Palmeiro, Miguel Tejada, Len Dykstra, Darren Daulton, Albert Belle, (a young) Manny Ramirez, Jose Canseco, Alfonso Soriano, and, yes, Thing Two.
Interesting...
Oh, the stories he can tell.
Grimsley is also the guy who was once traded by the Astros to the Phillies straight up for Curt Schilling (a move that now makes Jim Hendry's trade of Kid Corey for two future clubhouse attendants and a bunting manual look downright reasonable) and the guy who crawled through the U.S. Comiskular ceiling to retrieve Albert Belle's suspicious bat. Good teammate, huh?
But now Grimsley has named names and spilled many of baseball's dirty little secrets. How players have switched to Human Growth Hormone in response to the new more stringent steroid testing policy. How one player had back acne that was so bad that it would make even John Merrick and Quasimodo recoil in horror. How amphetamines or "greenies" were as common in major league clubhouses as Budweiser, playing cards and Alyssa Milano.
Reading about the investigation and the recent search of Grimsley's Scottsdale home has raised a number of questions in my mind...
(1) Reportedly thirteen federal agents searched the home for six hours. Thirteen agents? Did they call in Curtis Manning and Jack Bauer? What in the heck did they expect to find?
Thirteen agents barging into a home, turning over mattresses, ripping paintings off the wall and stealing loose change and DVDs sounds straight out of a Jerry Bruckheimer film. It is not as if they were busting into 50 Cent's palatial estate looking for a cache of semi-automatics or a crack house on 73rd Street. It is my understanding that they were searching the gated-community home in an affluent area of the Valley of a man who they had no reason to consider a safety threat (I sure hope they remembered to wipe their feet on the way in). And they were looking, not for a cooler full of severed heads preserved in jars, but rather for expensive performance enhancing drugs, receipts and other evidence of an alleged Grimsley-led HGH and anabolic steroid ring. The use of thirteen agents sounds an awful lot like posturing and showing off to the media.
(2) Facts clearly show that the search should not have been a surprise to Grimsley. Did they mistake him for Stephen Hawking Hairston Jr.?
To understand this question a little background is definitely in order. The search that occurred only days ago was not Grimsley's first contact with the federal investigation. Grimsley's singing like a canary actually occurred way back in April when federal invesigators interviewed him about a known delivery of two HGH "kits." An "anticipatory warrant" was issued and Grimsley voluntarily accompanied agents to a remote location to be questioned about the delivery, his involvement in performance enhancing substances and his experience with baseball and illegal drugs. His statements were made voluntarily and formed the basis for the warrant under which the search of two days ago occurred. So, once again, what were they expecting to find and how stupid did they assume Grimsley to be?
I don't know about you, but I live my life under some fairly basic rules. (1) Be kind to others; (2) Maintain family as the number one priority; and (3) Get rid of all evidence of crimes, misdeeds and other wrongdoing before the authorities knock on the door (better make that four rules, I forgot about not being in the least bit offensive to any race, creed or ethnicity. Hee Hee). In other words, if I am Jason Grimsley and I have already been served with an anticipatory warrant and spilled my guts to the feds, I'm cleaning house. And I'm getting rid of everything. Natalee Holloway's body...gone. The Lindbergh baby...buh-bye. The remains of Jimmy Hoffa...sold on E-Bay for $50 to some kid in Kalamazoo. But that is not all. Past NCAA Tournament brackets from Rick Neuheisel's pool, "Super Bowl sqaures" grids (frickin' John Fox...kick the dang field goal!), the Whatchamacallit bar I stole from Osco Drug in 2nd grade, my bootleg copy of the Grateful Dead playing Sing Sing while hopped up on Guatamalen insanity peppers, and the answer key from Mrs. Nank's Washington Irving Elementary School spelling quiz...all mysteriously having found their way into the neighborhood bonfire. Everything.
My guess is all thirteen agents walked out of there with nothing more troubling than a box of Sucrets.
(3) What in the heck is the point?
Once again, if you would like to (re)read my opinion on the performance enhancing drugs and sports issue, please go back to the post of March 30. That said, in essence, this really is nothing more than a modern day tribute to 1692 and the Salem With Trials -- to speak nothing of McCarthyism in the early 1950's. I know that MLB has reported that George Mitchell is heading up the steroid investigation, but I am more likely to believe that it is either the ghost of town doctor William Griggs (now that is a little too Dennis Miller-esque) or the spirit of Senator Joseph McCarthy himself.
Let's review the recent steroid allegation history. Jose Canseco's book is published and people universally cried "liar!" Then suddenly new and frightening facts come out and Jose doesn't look like such a blowhard anymore with people beginning to believe that he may actually have been telling the truth. But what has been done recently in response to Canseco's specific claims and to those persons whom he pointed the finger at? Has there been any real public questioning of Juan Gonzalez, Miguel Tejada or the human weight loss phenomenon that is Ivan Rodriguez? Oh sure, they held those stupid Congressional hearings where Mark McGwire sounded like an idiot and Steroid Sammy suddenly forgot how to speak English, but c'mon. Canseco's book is certainly still mentioned, but his accusations have fallen largely on either deaf of uninterested ears.
And what about Steroid Sammy? Does anyone still honestly doubt that he was juicing during his entire tenure with the Cubs? It seems to me that now that Sammy is salsa dancing or milking goats or sellling counterfeit jeans or whatever the heck he is doing in the Dominican Republic, the world has forgotten about his troubling "legacy" and subscribing to the ostrich theory of "out of sight, out of mind."
Should I cross over into the world of the NFL and mention the Carolina Panthers? It was only a little more than a year ago when reports surfaced that Panther players were prescribed steroids shortly before playing in the 2004 Super Bowl. According to the reports, a number of players were regular visitors to alternative medicine doctor James Shortt who was (and presumably still is) under investigation for steroid trafficking and distribution. It was a report that certainly got the sporting world's attention and managed to keep it...for about three days.
Heck, even Jason Giambi has regained his status as a hero in the Bronx...
The bottom line is that this story is going to burn up the airwaves for a couple of days, maybe even weeks, and then fade away. Does the public want baseball cleaned up? Absolutely. Does it really matter in the end. In my opinion, no.
(3a) Maybe there is a point...but what are we going to do with the players who are guilty?
If this is a witch hunt as I allege, perhaps we should just toss them into the nearest lake and see if they float. Maybe we should burn them at the stake. How about having them drawn and quartered? There hasn't been a good public hanging in awhile that I am aware of.
I mean, what are we really talking about here? Asterisks and disclaimers? Kicking them out of baseball? Everyone recognizes that the 1985-2005 will likely be forevermore known as the steroid era and, at this point we can only hope that we are on the tail end of an ugly period in baseball history. I love sports history as much as anyone, but my concern for the sanctity of records and whether in 1926, Al Simmons only had to hit the ball 307' feet at old Shibe Park/ Connie Mack Stadium for a home run or whether a juiced up Barry Bonds hit a juiced up ball thrown by a juiced up Jason Grimsley ranks right up there with my concern for whether Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are going to get married now that baby Shiloh Nouvel has been born (you think that name is bad? Try going through like with the name "Audio Science").
As always, this is just my humble, unimportant opinion. What's yours?
* I'm happy to see that the White Sox continue to live by Grinder Ball Rule #13: "The maximum time that should ever go by without Ozzie Guillen saying something idiotic is 18, nah...better make that 12, hours." In response to the news about the Grimsley investigation, Ozzie commented (and I quote) "That man is a criminal. When you steal something, and then people come to your house and you're involved with [HGH], in my country, you're a criminal.'' Oh, in your country, he is a criminal. Okay. Got it.
Lest we forget that according to Guillen, whose apparently got his law degree in the offseason from Hollywood Upstairs Law College or somewhere, threatening farmhands with a machete, pouring gasoline on them and trying to light them on fire is not a crime and former major league reliever Ugueth Urbina is being wrongly held in a Caracas, Venezuela jail as a result of such allegations. Are they still only allegations? Yes. But, unless we are to forget Ozzie's spring comments, he knows that Urbina is innocent and Grimsley is without a doubt a criminal.
Look Ozzie, you have proven to be an excellent manager who has the ability to get the best out of your players. You have won a World Series title. How about shutting your mouth, just once? Some of your comments are downright embarrassing.
* Gopherball Glendon...glad to see you are back.
* Finally, reports indicate that Kerry Wood's shoulder is bothering him again and he is listed as questionable for Sunday's scheduled start against the Reds. Should Wood not be able to go, young right hander Carlos Marmol would get the start. Marmol is fresh out of Double A ball, but, in his two relief appearances this season, has looked like he has electric stuff. You know what? If Kerry Wood's shoulder doesn't hurt and he is able to go, I'm requesting that Thing One or Phil Nevin (not like he has anything else to do...I mean it is not like the guy is playing) drop an anvil on his arm. At this point, I'm more interested in seeing what Marmol can do than watching the future member of the New York Yankees or Boston Red Sox or Iowa Cubs pitch 4 and 2/3 medicore innings. Bring on Carlos Marmol!!! Heck, at this point, part of me would rather see Carlos Santana, Carlos Solis or Carlos from the Magic School Bus take the mound instead of Kerry.
I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend. Fins up!
*** For those of you interested in reading the Grimsley affidavit and warrant, it is available at:
http://www.azcentral.com/pdfs/060706grimsley.pdf
But please do not fret Cubs' fans. I believe that I have solved the team's offensive woes and season-long allergy to the home run. The solution is actually pretty simple. Sign Jason Grimsley and sign him quick. Just make sure that he brings along his "kits" and his coffee pots and all of his Latino friends. At this point, the Cubs need all the help they can get.
Ahhhh yes, good ol' Jason Grimsley. Major league baseball's answer to "Sammy the Bull" Gravano and Linda Tripp (did you know that after the whole Clinton-Lewinsky-Cigar affiar, Tripp had extensive plastic surgery -- a good idea -- and now runs a year-round Christmas store in Middleburg, Virginia -- perhaps not such a good idea).
Look, I am not going to use this space to simply rehash my feelings on the steroid controversy in baseball (if you are a newbie to the Random Thoughts, I encourage you to read the March 30 post "The Plague on the House of Baseball"), but to let the Grimsley/ HGH story pass by without comment, in my mind, would be foolish.
First, a little background about the central figure in the scandal. Grimsley's 15-year major league career includes stints with seven different major league teams (not to mention time spent in the spring training camps of three more teams). This essentially makes him baseball's equivalent of basketball journeyman (in every sense of the word) Tyrone Corbin. For the record, former DePaul star Corbin played for nine teams in his 16-year NBA career. It also means that he has played with (and presumably has knowledge of the habits of) hundred of current and former players, including intriguing possibilities Steroid Sammy, Rafael Palmeiro, Miguel Tejada, Len Dykstra, Darren Daulton, Albert Belle, (a young) Manny Ramirez, Jose Canseco, Alfonso Soriano, and, yes, Thing Two.
Interesting...
Oh, the stories he can tell.
Grimsley is also the guy who was once traded by the Astros to the Phillies straight up for Curt Schilling (a move that now makes Jim Hendry's trade of Kid Corey for two future clubhouse attendants and a bunting manual look downright reasonable) and the guy who crawled through the U.S. Comiskular ceiling to retrieve Albert Belle's suspicious bat. Good teammate, huh?
But now Grimsley has named names and spilled many of baseball's dirty little secrets. How players have switched to Human Growth Hormone in response to the new more stringent steroid testing policy. How one player had back acne that was so bad that it would make even John Merrick and Quasimodo recoil in horror. How amphetamines or "greenies" were as common in major league clubhouses as Budweiser, playing cards and Alyssa Milano.
Reading about the investigation and the recent search of Grimsley's Scottsdale home has raised a number of questions in my mind...
(1) Reportedly thirteen federal agents searched the home for six hours. Thirteen agents? Did they call in Curtis Manning and Jack Bauer? What in the heck did they expect to find?
Thirteen agents barging into a home, turning over mattresses, ripping paintings off the wall and stealing loose change and DVDs sounds straight out of a Jerry Bruckheimer film. It is not as if they were busting into 50 Cent's palatial estate looking for a cache of semi-automatics or a crack house on 73rd Street. It is my understanding that they were searching the gated-community home in an affluent area of the Valley of a man who they had no reason to consider a safety threat (I sure hope they remembered to wipe their feet on the way in). And they were looking, not for a cooler full of severed heads preserved in jars, but rather for expensive performance enhancing drugs, receipts and other evidence of an alleged Grimsley-led HGH and anabolic steroid ring. The use of thirteen agents sounds an awful lot like posturing and showing off to the media.
(2) Facts clearly show that the search should not have been a surprise to Grimsley. Did they mistake him for Stephen Hawking Hairston Jr.?
To understand this question a little background is definitely in order. The search that occurred only days ago was not Grimsley's first contact with the federal investigation. Grimsley's singing like a canary actually occurred way back in April when federal invesigators interviewed him about a known delivery of two HGH "kits." An "anticipatory warrant" was issued and Grimsley voluntarily accompanied agents to a remote location to be questioned about the delivery, his involvement in performance enhancing substances and his experience with baseball and illegal drugs. His statements were made voluntarily and formed the basis for the warrant under which the search of two days ago occurred. So, once again, what were they expecting to find and how stupid did they assume Grimsley to be?
I don't know about you, but I live my life under some fairly basic rules. (1) Be kind to others; (2) Maintain family as the number one priority; and (3) Get rid of all evidence of crimes, misdeeds and other wrongdoing before the authorities knock on the door (better make that four rules, I forgot about not being in the least bit offensive to any race, creed or ethnicity. Hee Hee). In other words, if I am Jason Grimsley and I have already been served with an anticipatory warrant and spilled my guts to the feds, I'm cleaning house. And I'm getting rid of everything. Natalee Holloway's body...gone. The Lindbergh baby...buh-bye. The remains of Jimmy Hoffa...sold on E-Bay for $50 to some kid in Kalamazoo. But that is not all. Past NCAA Tournament brackets from Rick Neuheisel's pool, "Super Bowl sqaures" grids (frickin' John Fox...kick the dang field goal!), the Whatchamacallit bar I stole from Osco Drug in 2nd grade, my bootleg copy of the Grateful Dead playing Sing Sing while hopped up on Guatamalen insanity peppers, and the answer key from Mrs. Nank's Washington Irving Elementary School spelling quiz...all mysteriously having found their way into the neighborhood bonfire. Everything.
My guess is all thirteen agents walked out of there with nothing more troubling than a box of Sucrets.
(3) What in the heck is the point?
Once again, if you would like to (re)read my opinion on the performance enhancing drugs and sports issue, please go back to the post of March 30. That said, in essence, this really is nothing more than a modern day tribute to 1692 and the Salem With Trials -- to speak nothing of McCarthyism in the early 1950's. I know that MLB has reported that George Mitchell is heading up the steroid investigation, but I am more likely to believe that it is either the ghost of town doctor William Griggs (now that is a little too Dennis Miller-esque) or the spirit of Senator Joseph McCarthy himself.
Let's review the recent steroid allegation history. Jose Canseco's book is published and people universally cried "liar!" Then suddenly new and frightening facts come out and Jose doesn't look like such a blowhard anymore with people beginning to believe that he may actually have been telling the truth. But what has been done recently in response to Canseco's specific claims and to those persons whom he pointed the finger at? Has there been any real public questioning of Juan Gonzalez, Miguel Tejada or the human weight loss phenomenon that is Ivan Rodriguez? Oh sure, they held those stupid Congressional hearings where Mark McGwire sounded like an idiot and Steroid Sammy suddenly forgot how to speak English, but c'mon. Canseco's book is certainly still mentioned, but his accusations have fallen largely on either deaf of uninterested ears.
And what about Steroid Sammy? Does anyone still honestly doubt that he was juicing during his entire tenure with the Cubs? It seems to me that now that Sammy is salsa dancing or milking goats or sellling counterfeit jeans or whatever the heck he is doing in the Dominican Republic, the world has forgotten about his troubling "legacy" and subscribing to the ostrich theory of "out of sight, out of mind."
Should I cross over into the world of the NFL and mention the Carolina Panthers? It was only a little more than a year ago when reports surfaced that Panther players were prescribed steroids shortly before playing in the 2004 Super Bowl. According to the reports, a number of players were regular visitors to alternative medicine doctor James Shortt who was (and presumably still is) under investigation for steroid trafficking and distribution. It was a report that certainly got the sporting world's attention and managed to keep it...for about three days.
Heck, even Jason Giambi has regained his status as a hero in the Bronx...
The bottom line is that this story is going to burn up the airwaves for a couple of days, maybe even weeks, and then fade away. Does the public want baseball cleaned up? Absolutely. Does it really matter in the end. In my opinion, no.
(3a) Maybe there is a point...but what are we going to do with the players who are guilty?
If this is a witch hunt as I allege, perhaps we should just toss them into the nearest lake and see if they float. Maybe we should burn them at the stake. How about having them drawn and quartered? There hasn't been a good public hanging in awhile that I am aware of.
I mean, what are we really talking about here? Asterisks and disclaimers? Kicking them out of baseball? Everyone recognizes that the 1985-2005 will likely be forevermore known as the steroid era and, at this point we can only hope that we are on the tail end of an ugly period in baseball history. I love sports history as much as anyone, but my concern for the sanctity of records and whether in 1926, Al Simmons only had to hit the ball 307' feet at old Shibe Park/ Connie Mack Stadium for a home run or whether a juiced up Barry Bonds hit a juiced up ball thrown by a juiced up Jason Grimsley ranks right up there with my concern for whether Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are going to get married now that baby Shiloh Nouvel has been born (you think that name is bad? Try going through like with the name "Audio Science").
As always, this is just my humble, unimportant opinion. What's yours?
* I'm happy to see that the White Sox continue to live by Grinder Ball Rule #13: "The maximum time that should ever go by without Ozzie Guillen saying something idiotic is 18, nah...better make that 12, hours." In response to the news about the Grimsley investigation, Ozzie commented (and I quote) "That man is a criminal. When you steal something, and then people come to your house and you're involved with [HGH], in my country, you're a criminal.'' Oh, in your country, he is a criminal. Okay. Got it.
Lest we forget that according to Guillen, whose apparently got his law degree in the offseason from Hollywood Upstairs Law College or somewhere, threatening farmhands with a machete, pouring gasoline on them and trying to light them on fire is not a crime and former major league reliever Ugueth Urbina is being wrongly held in a Caracas, Venezuela jail as a result of such allegations. Are they still only allegations? Yes. But, unless we are to forget Ozzie's spring comments, he knows that Urbina is innocent and Grimsley is without a doubt a criminal.
Look Ozzie, you have proven to be an excellent manager who has the ability to get the best out of your players. You have won a World Series title. How about shutting your mouth, just once? Some of your comments are downright embarrassing.
* Gopherball Glendon...glad to see you are back.
* Finally, reports indicate that Kerry Wood's shoulder is bothering him again and he is listed as questionable for Sunday's scheduled start against the Reds. Should Wood not be able to go, young right hander Carlos Marmol would get the start. Marmol is fresh out of Double A ball, but, in his two relief appearances this season, has looked like he has electric stuff. You know what? If Kerry Wood's shoulder doesn't hurt and he is able to go, I'm requesting that Thing One or Phil Nevin (not like he has anything else to do...I mean it is not like the guy is playing) drop an anvil on his arm. At this point, I'm more interested in seeing what Marmol can do than watching the future member of the New York Yankees or Boston Red Sox or Iowa Cubs pitch 4 and 2/3 medicore innings. Bring on Carlos Marmol!!! Heck, at this point, part of me would rather see Carlos Santana, Carlos Solis or Carlos from the Magic School Bus take the mound instead of Kerry.
I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend. Fins up!
*** For those of you interested in reading the Grimsley affidavit and warrant, it is available at:
http://www.azcentral.com/pdfs/060706grimsley.pdf
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