Archive for February, 2011

Maybin, Panda Express Fail to Reach Detente

Padres fly-catcher Cameron Maybin recently enjoyed a leisurely, industrial-grade meal at Panda Express. He then tweeted about the, um, lasting residue of said meal:

Never eat panda express sh*ts had me feeling awful for 2 days back on my grind tomorrow,, We got action…

Nothing surprising so far. If you eat meal with a higher sodium content than the tears of the Dead Sea — chow that’s best left to the iron-gutted frequent flyers and Food Court loyalists among us — then you risk violating your non-aggression pact with the digestive system.

At this point, you might be wondering why I didn’t just post an image capture of Mr. Maybin’s rather unremarkable tweet. However, examination at its most cursory has led me to believe that Mr. Maybin deleted said tweet. Why would he have done that? Gaslamp Ball, presumably after filing a daisy chain of FOIA requests, has arrived at the answer:

At some point Panda Express has left us all feeling, lets say, not so fresh. But when Cameron Maybin, the Padres new Center Fielder, complains of its sickening after effects and warns his twitter followers never to eat it… hilarity ensues. That’s because Tom Davin, the CEO of Panda Restaurants, is a member of the Padres Ownership Group.

Well, that’s a shame. It’s one thing not to be able to trust flesh lovingly prepared outside the service entrance of a Hot Topic. It’s another thing entirely not to be able to complain about it on your Internet computer.

Anyhow, if any “Cameron Maybin is in the best shape of his life” articles come your way in the near future, please be skeptical. Is it the new Charles Atlas workout that left him lean and angular, or is it the case of Montezuma’s Revenge perpetrated upon him by his employer?


Seriously, Mang. Tick-Tock.


Click to embiggen

This screencap was taken a full two nights ago.. Now, of course, only mere minutes remain until Albert Pujols’s self-made contract deadline. Will Albert stay in St. Louis? Will he bolt for Chicago? Los Angeles? Maybe… no… not New York?!

The clock is ticking. Mang.


A Bird in the Hand

What happens when local wildlife decides to interfere with a baseball game? A stadium full of peanuts, popcorn and other leftover morsels is hard for local flocks to pass up, so it’s actually quite shocking that more bird to baseball collisions haven’t happened over the years. The rules regarding wildlife obstruction vary from situation to situation, and if an animal encounter happens in the stands, all you can do is run for your life. Let’s look at a few of the most famous examples of the meetings between the animal kingdom and baseball.

1. Randy Johnson murders a bird Everyone knows this one. In a 2001 Spring Training game, the Big Unit unwound one of his patented sidearm fastballs and it collided mid air with an unfortunate bird, resulting in a fantastic explosion of feathers and a stadium full of dumbfounded ballplayers. So, what’s the ruling from the umpire? Ball, strike, or no pitch? There is no specific rule in the MLB rulebook regarding an animal interrupting the flight of a pitched ball before it reaches the batter, so in that case Rule 9.01(c) comes into play. Rule 9.01(c) basically gives the Umpire discretion to make the “fairest” ruling, which in this case is to call a no-pitch.

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Feast of St. Ugi the Murderous

That red microphone would do well to watch itself.

Today, we commemorate three lives — and examine, more thoroughly than we have, the lives of our remembered.

Regard:

Ugi the Murderous

Life: Urbina was an animated and, for some time, very talented relief pitcher. Currently, however, he’s serving a 14-year prison sentence in his home country after being convicted on two charges of attempted murder.

Prayer:

You’re not a saint in the traditional manner,
but you’ve certainly reinforced that old adage,
“Don’t attack people with a machete and/or gasoline,
even if you’re totally convinced they stole something.”

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Ground Rules for the “Baseball We”

A bountiful source of debate among baseball enthusiasts and fans of other, ickier, less morally upright sports is whether or not it’s acceptable to say “we” in reference to your favorite team. The pro: It’s a harmless bit of unifying tribalism. The con: You do not, in point of fact, play for your favorite team. These are dearly held positions, to say the least. Neither side will yield, and the center cannot hold.

So in the service of a workable peace, I am here to pronounce from on high and with the certainty of Judge Lance Ito that using the first-person plural in reference to your team is acceptable — I do it myself — but only under certain inviolable conditions. Here, fans of stick and ball, are those conditions …

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Spectacular Sporty Spectacles


Just a little eyewear mix up at my last key party.

The plight of the bespectacled athlete is worth some attention. After our fearless leader immortalized the younger DiMaggio in prose this week, it seems appropriate to turn our attention to a visual ode to the goggled gods of baseball.

Yes, there is a site dedicated solely to baseball players wearing eyeglasses. Sometimes BespectacledBaseball seems to cheat with the odd pair of sunglasses from time to time, but rest assured – those are prescription. And not only does the site provide the visitor with visuals worth recommending, it also adorns those images with poetic captions – in Craig Kusik’s case, “I tied the Major League record for most times hit by a pitch in an extra-inning game with 3 in 11 inning contest, August 27, 1975.” Practically William-Carlos-Williams-ian.

Bespectacled Baseball is just a baby, man, but the urge to laud players with face windows is not. Check this Wikipedia list of major leaguers with glasses, including this historical fact worth enshrining somewhere:

The first major-league player to wear spectacles was Will ‘Whoop-La’ White in 1878-86.[1][2] Only pitchers dared wear glasses while playing until the early 1920s, when George ‘Specs’ Toporcer of the St. Louis Cardinals became the first outfielder to sport eyewear. Bespectacled pitchers are less rare as they have less need to field the ball.

‘Whoop-La’ there it is. Let’s end with the most famous of spectacular athletes – Reggie Jackson. After all, he’s one (of two) bespectacled baseballers to ever make the Hall of Fame, and with the advent of contacts and Lasik surgery, he will be a member of what may remain a rare breed in the future. NotGraphs salutes you, oh meister of (double) monacles and star of shades.

Hat/Tip: My mother (seriously). And Esquire for the Reggie picture.


Dogs Really Into Sabermetrics, Turns Out

This is what’s frequently referred to as “visual evidence.”

Maybe it’s because Jonah Keri has recently joined FanGraphs, and Mr. Keri has a well-documented relationship with our canine friends, but, if the algorithm used by our advertisers is at all indicative of our readership, then there’s only one possible conclusion to draw from the image above — namely, that dogs are super into FanGraphs.

If that screenshot is too subtle for you, allow me to draw your attention to the relevant portion of the page. Here:

“That doesn’t prove anything,” you’re probably saying. “That ad is probably just intended for dog owners.”

Right. Of course. That was my initial reaction, too — until I noted that the ad in question appears just below a banner reading “Yard Barker.” At that point I found it difficult to look past all the obvious signs.

In any case, allow this post to serve as recognition of all our dog readers. You guys are going yeoman’s work out there. Keep bringing it.


Please Bring Back Cal Baseball

So that these guys never, ever make hip-hop music, if I can call it that, again.

Please note: some of the language is a touch NSFW.

Go Bears. And: You’re welcome I’m sorry.


Feast of St. Dominic the Bespectacled

Just look at that little guy!

Today, in our attempt to canonize the game’s most important figures, we remember four lives.

Note, please, that (a) all of today’s players were actually born February 12th but also that (b) this is wholly in compliance with theological law, which states that, and I quote, “All saints’ lives occurring on a weekend day shall be celebrated on the first business day directly proceeding said weekend.”

So, it’s totally legal, is what I mean to suggest.

Now, today’s lives:

Dominic the Bespectacled

Your older brother
totally got with the hottest possible woman,
but, by most accounts, yours was the more enviable life.
We’ll never forget your spectacles —
all meanings intended!

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Baseball Meets the Rock Music!

Hey, that’s Peter Buck of R.E.M. and three other musician-y types with whom I am measurably less familiar! What are they doing in this space usually reserved for matters at least tangentially related to baseball? Well, if, like the kids today, you’re a fan of the Rock and/or Roll music, then you should know that those four above plus others have cut an album (CD? Gathering of mp3 files? What do you call albums now?) of songs about our fair game of ball and base. The dirty:

The Baseball Project is a band featuring R.E.M.’s Peter Buck, Young Fresh Fellows’ Scott McCaughey, the Dream Syndicate’s Steve Wynn, and his wife, drummer Linda Pitmon, who geek out about their favorite baseball players and teams over power-pop riffage. See, indie nerds can play sports.

Their new album, Volume 2: High and Inside, is on deck for a March 1 release via Yep Roc, and it features an all-star lineup of collaborators, including Yo La Tengo’s Ira Kaplan, the Hold Steady’s Craig Finn, the Decemberists’ Chris Funk and John Moen, and Death Cab for Cutie’s Ben Gibbard.

Hey, some names I recognize and enjoy! Best of all, follow the link above and you can hear a song from this musical All-Star team (see what I did there!) — a track wondrously titled, “Ichiro Goes to the Moon.” It sounds like something the Ramones would’ve written if they had surfed, which is to say I like and approve, which is also to say I wish the Ramones had surfed. And by all means, please take a jaunt through the lyrics of every song on the album.

Speaking of those lyrics, this, plucked from “Panda and the Freak,” is as fitting a description of a certain Giants third baseman as I’ve ever seen:

When it comes to kung fu fighting, he’s no better than Hong Chi Quo. He’s kind of like Bruce Lee if you cross Bruce Lee with a buffalo. He barrels round the bases; he scrambles for ground balls. Zito named him Kung Fu Panda — that’s our Pablo Sandoval.

Respect, yo.