Making an appearance on TV’s Conan on Wednesday, Detroit Tiger SuperAce Justin Verlander announced both to O’Brien and all of America that he will one day die either of congestive heart failure or diabetes — just not in those words.
Measuring “baseballness” can be tough, and I know that I often wish for a handy yardstick for, say, which of the dresses in my closet is the most baseball. I haven’t figured that one out yet, but here’s a handy tool to help you identify precisely how baseball your favorite band is.
Suggestions for added bonuses or strikes are welcome in the comments and I will update the quiz as I see fit. Of course, please also share your very important results. Post additions will be noted in italics.
When I was a young child — no older than five or six — I owned a plastic Phillies helmet. It was basically a bigger version of those helmets they serve ice cream in at the ballpark, or a cheaper version of the helmets that catchers wear.
I loved this helmet. Indeed, it was one of my most prized possessions. So prized, in fact, that I wore it everywhere. I think I saw it as my connection to the surprising 1993 team that ultimately made the World Series and introduced me to baseball fandom.
One beautiful summer day, my grandparents took me and my two-and-a-half-year-old brother for an outing to the Philadelphia Zoo. (Please allow me to use this space to thank my grandparents for the many enjoyable outings they took me and my brother on when we were little. Allow me to also use this space to say damn my grandparents for letting me wear a friggin’ baseball helmet to the zoo.)
This particular day at the zoo began like any other. Ooooh, lions. Ooooh, snakes. Ooooh, polar bears. Animals are great — especially when viewed from a safe distance and/or behind three inches of glass.
It wasn’t until we reached my favorite part of the zoo — the primates — that the trip took a disastrous turn.
Excuse me, sir, do you have a minute to save the environment?
The folks at Viva El Birdos have outdone themselves. Let’s get right down to business: Here’s the original, via Getty Images:
And here are, as I like to call them, the masterpieces:
The nominating ’tis done. The Presidium for Patriotic Arrangements has vetted and culled the list of nominees down to the 10 deemed most loyal to the Party. From these names you shall choose, and you shall do so with a reverence befitting your assigned caste. Vote carefully, citizens, for the nickname “Dionysus with Rabies” is at stake …
Now back to work with you.
America is dealing with some of the hardest economic times she has seen in recent years. Although professional baseball players tend to make a decent amount of coin, even they can’t remain blissfully aware of the plights of us plebeians. Observe the sight which befell Torii Hunter yesterday:
Times r getting hard out here twitter.com/toriihunter48/…
— Torii Hunter (@toriihunter48) January 11, 2012
My favorite base ball-ists from my period of actual, sentient fanhood are as follows: Ozzie Smith, Albert Pujols, John Tudor, and Ray Lankford.
In light of these facts, the following bears mentioning:
I am delighted by this turn of events. Mr. Lankford was galactically underrated during his time on the diamond and the subject of misguided scorn by those inclined to misguidedly scorn. Today, though, Mr. Lankford and I are united through media sociale. And it is wonderful.
I suspect, though, that Mr. Lankford followed me out of righteous pity. After all, I’ve been following him for months, and I recently re-Tweeted one of his vanishingly rare Tweets. He might have followed the trail and discovered that my Twitter background is a mosaic of his Topps rookie card. “The poor dear,” he may have said to himself before hitting the Follow button in the manner that one gives an extra pence to the newsboy. It is my hope that he will one day muss my hair and tell me to run along.
Did you know you can search every place name in the U.S.? Here, now you can waste even more time than I did. Presenting: the most pointless list ever. If there are readers who live in any of these places, you are obligated to post in the comments.
I hereby propose a new Independent Baseball League, with teams in the following sabermetrically-friendly locations:
Eastern Division
The Fipsters, of FIPps Crossing, in Columbus, NC
The Winners, of WAR, in McDowell, WV
The Babips, of BIPpus, in Huntington, IN
The Walkers, of WHIPray Basin, in Monroe, FL
Western Division
The Wappers, of WPA Dam, in Muskogee, OK
The Zippers, of ZIPS Cabin, in White Pine, NV
The Ultimate Ratings, of ZONE Creek, in Dillingham, AK
The Powers, of ISOlated Peak, in Boulder, CO
