In case you missed it — and I sincerely doubt that’s possible — Juan Francisco hit a really long home run last night against the Cubs. Compagno Cistulli already detailed the home run for us, as well as some stuff about emotions or aesthetics or something.

That’s one way to admire Francisco’s moonshot. Joey Votto and Jay Bruce present another:

Here’s how I imagine this scene playing out:

BRUCE: Hey Joey, did you see that home run Juan hit?

VOTTO: Yeah.

BRUCE: That one over there?

VOTTO: Yeah.

BRUCE: That was awesome.

VOTTO: Yeah.

Still, I can’t help but feel like something is missing, in a hastily photoshopped manner…

Yeah. That’s it.

Steve Trout is aware that society would prefer that he not wear those seductive Foster Grants, particularly in mixed company, but he doesn’t much give a damn about that. When a gentleman like Steve Trout walks loins-first into the room, you’re immediately aware of three things: the van is customized, the status is no longer quo, and love is about to be made.

Your Daguerreotype of the Evening is of Steve Trout. He can dance to that.

“Instant collector’s item” is only one of many phrases that describes this autographed Tom Milone hat.

Hey gang, just wanted to let everyone know that the autographed and game-worn Tom Milone hat I’ve been talking a lot about lately — the one he wore during the Syracuse Chiefs’ game against the Buffalo Bisons on August 8, 2011 — is still available via auction for just 10 dollars.

I’m not sure if I mentioned it before, so I’ll say now that the hat is from Latino Baseball Night and is green, yellow, and red. Also, not to belabor the point, but “game-worn” means Tom Milone wore this specific hat in a game. Like, the Tom Milone.

The description also says that Milone signed the hat “following” the game. For me, I imagine Milone walking back to the Syracuse clubhouse. Like, the game has just ended and he’s gonna take a shower or whatever. And then the Chiefs’ manager of promotions is like, “Hey Tom, could I get you to sign the hat for the charitable auction?” And then Tom Milone takes off the hat he was just wearing and signs it with his own name.

Imagining that gets me excited about possibly owning this hat — something that I, or anyone, could currently do for 10 unbelievable dollars.

Ed. note: readers be advised: you are about to learn at least six new euphemisms for going to the bathroom.

Ask not what you can do for your toilet, but what your toilet can do for you.

As part of his rehabilitation program, Giants’ catcher Buster Posey has been doing squats. Assumably, these are squats of the weight-lifting variety, but one never knows about these things.

If Backstop Buster decided he wanted to do some extra work while away from the trainer, he should simply choose to sit down when he pees. Normally we danglers stay upright when voiding our bladders, opting to perch ourselves upon the porcelain only when absolutely necessary, but maybe that’s just because we are ugly American’s who despise anything that could be construed as exercise.

Think about it, America. Getting off the throne is a good exercise for your knees and does, in fact, put pressure on your ankles. Posey may be called a pansy in the clubhouse, but he’ll have the last laugh when he can leap a tall building in a single bound.*

I have no knowledge of Backstop Buster’s diet, but I think it’s safe to assume that he isn’t dropping a deuce more than once a day. If this is indeed the case, sitting down while visiting the Tinkle Fairy will help him work out his damaged ankle and become nearly superhuman in the process.

*Claims made in this article are subject to scientific testing and common sense.

Our appreciation of baseball history is inextricably linked to statistics. While some may attempt to deny the centrality of the quantifiable in baseball, these people would be lying if they said that they don’t remember players like Joe DiMaggio, Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, Lou Gehrig, Willie Mays, and Hank Aaron for their respective statistical achievements. Indeed, the fundamental reason we remember players like Cy Young and forget players like Cy Morgan is the former’s statistical achievements and the latter’s lack thereof. True, some statistics are more useful than others for discerning how productive a player truly is, but generally speaking, “traditional statistics” do a decent job of highlighting the players that are worth remembering. And the great thing is that all of this information is only a quick internet search away.

Unfortunately, though, not all professional baseball players throughout history have the benefit of a lasting, easily accessible record of their on-field accomplishments. In particular, I am speaking of the Negro Leagues. We know they were great assemblages of talent, and to some, the exclusion of black players from the Major Leagues acted as a sort of “performance enhancing drug” to the game’s “Great White Legends.” But the woefully inadequate statistical record of Negro League play means that for the last century or so, we have been deprived of a richer understanding of it and the history of baseball in general. Although we may each know at most a handful of Negro Leaguers, for the most part we don’t really know what they did (let alone what they did relative to their contemporaries).

I am happy to say that someone is finally here to fill this historical lacuna. Today, the fine folks at Seamheads.com have launched their Negro Leagues Database, which begins the arduous task of compiling the long-lost statistical records and biographical information of Negro Leaguers — rescuing them from the dustbin of history to which they have hitherto been relegated.

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When baseball analysts look at Juan Francisco, they see a player who “doesn’t play defense that well” and “has little understanding of the strike zone — a.k.a. a really important thing.”

When the aesthete looks at Juan Francisco, he (i.e. the aesthete) sees a Dominican David, slaying the Goliath known as Mortality.

Or, at least that’s what he probably sees. It might also just be something on his glasses.

Canadian Handshake to my friend Matt Klaassen who alerted me to this Situation, and David Brown for bringing it to Society’s attention.

It’s time for another installment of “Shorter Baseball Columnists,” in which we read mainstream baseball columnists and marginalized bloggers like Murray Chass so you don’t have to! Let us begin!

Shorter Mike Lupica: Hot Sports Opinion: Yankees-Red Sox games sometimes last too long.

Shorter Bill Plaschke: How much do I love Peter Bourjos? Enough to refer to his “dazzling dignity.”

Shorter Lake Cruise: The Cardinals’ ongoing embrace of Mark McGwire might kill your children.

Shorter T.J. Simers: Report immediately to your comfiest reading chair, because this is going to be about moi.

Shorter Murray Chass: New York Times, if I can’t have you, no one will.

Shorter Jerry Green: Stop giving me the high-hat: Justin Verlander is the MVP. And that’s my lawn you’re standing on, you whippersnappers and jackanapes. Ah, the dickens …

The “Shorter” approach to Internetty commentary traces back, as best as one can tell, to Daniel Davies.

Just your typical Triple-A lifer.

If only Fernando Perez was a better ball player. Then again, if he was, it might be unfair to the rest of the men in the world. He’s — forgive the fawning — an excellent renaissance man even without good baseball results at the time being.

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In keeping with the prevailing NotGraphs winds on this Monday, it’s only appropriate that your Daguerreotype of the Evening capture the gentle social mockeries of which the Skull-and-Bones Man is so fond. And so it is that we encounter these young Washington Nationals neophytes dressed up like the small, blue habitues of every child’s favorite Jonestown analogue …

As ‘Duk helpfully notes, that’s Rosin Bag Jesus Stephen Strasburg as philosopher-king Papa Smurf and that’s catcher Wilson Ramos as Smurfette, who, logic suggests, is charged with servicing the entire colony.

For all of her many virtues, Hannah Ehrlich — of River Ave Blues and the Twitters, respectively — occasionally forces innocent bystanders to think the dark thoughts. Nor is there a more representative case of her doing so than in the tweet you see embedded above, in which Ehrlich asks us to imagine what Nick Swisher would do with magic powers, had he access to them.

After a brief period of “vomiting” — followed by a longer period of “talking to my therapist” — I’ve finally come to terms with the mental pictures Ehrlich’s question generated. Now it’s my intention to thrust those same horrible mental pictures into the bespectacled reader’s mind, as well, via this entirely original, single-question quiz.

Hope you don’t fail!