Shared with minimal comment, courtesy of Jonathan Gantt:
Terrifying, yet irresistible.
My favorite part? Watching what appears to be the broadcaster dashing across the field (2:53) moments after telling us he would do just that. A man of his word.
Dateline: Tropicana Field, St. Petersburg Florida
I was minding my own business, reading over the pregame notes for the Rays and Tigers. I turned my head for a few moments to gaze at the batting practice display of Prince Fielder. After returning to my upright and forward position I was startled to find the horrifyingly creepy and irksome Zim Bear sitting on my shoulder, his plush feet aiding in his sneak attack on my person.
Don’t let anyone fool you, he is not an inanimate object merely handed out like a cheap party favor. He is REAL. I am currently being held against my will. He will not leave.
Help.
Democratic congressman / starting pitcher Cedric Raymond. Photo via the National Journal.
A very exciting day in politics on Thursday was capped off by the annual Congressional Baseball Game — for charity! At Nationals Park, the Democrats hit the Republicans hard in an 18-5 victory. Rep. Cedric Raymond was the starting pitcher for the Dems side, and he pitched a complete game win. He also had a multiple-hits game at the plate and was awarded the MVP award by his teammates. Raymond was a varsity pitcher at Morehouse College and apparently he still throws in the early 80s. The ceremonial first pitch was thrown out by an Astros rainbow-guts-era adorned Ron Paul — who you may remember, hit a home run in the game in 1979. Paul was also inducted into the Congressional Baseball Hall of Fame, which is apparently a thing. It’s worth noting that the Democrats have now won the game four years in a row. Baseball also beat out politics, for one night only, as Republican manager Joe Barton (Texas) was quoted as saying “Win or lose, we’re gonna go upstairs after it’s over and have a hotdog.” America!
Ron Paul. Photo via the National Journal.
The nomination process, which was a thicket of sexy possibilities, is now complete. In accordance with established standards, empaneled racists have whittled the list down to a manageable ledger of 10, from which you are to choose the one most worthy of the nickname “Iago’s Balls.” Remember: This player is not only evil, like Iago, but also foul-smelling, like Iago’s hairy giggle-beans.
So, those who quarter soldiers in peacetime, you may now cast ballots on who — or what! — should forevermore be nicknamed “Iago’s Balls” …
Thank you for exercising the franchise.
In Athens, Georgia, obviously, by a man — a professional — known to the FanGraphs community as “Fattinton_Bear,” one of our many award-winning correspondents in the field.
New device in the house. Now it has to learn all my words again. But! Now I get to see what all these player names turn into in the hands of Auto-Correct.
Can you guess who I was trying to write about? I bet you’ll figure them all out, but I’ll try to do them from easiest to toughest. Maybe I’ll send the winner something if someone gets em all.
Last night, Red Sox OF Darnell McDonald made a great catch on a fly ball hit by Blue Jays 2B Kelly Johnson.
It was so good, that it made seven of ten Red Sox fans very happy — if this photo is to be extrapolated from, that is:
Or, there, now it’s ten of ten:
I’ve never seen such a happy fan base. Good job, Darnell.
Having recently read an uncorrected proof of my colleague Dayn Perry’s forthcoming book, Business and Fucking: Secrets to Dominating the Competition in the Boardroom and the Bedroom, I am now filled with (a) a profound sense of shame, which no amount of therapy or SSRI or deep knee bends could ever truly purge and (b) wisdom concerning business.
My first step after reading Perry’s book? To cry in the shower, naturally.
My second step, though? To design and purchase business cards, with a view to announcing to the world that I’m a gentleman who knows a thing or two about a thing or two.
Here is the front of said card (which is actually the MiniCard sold by MOO):
And, in full technicolor, the reverse side:
The ’89 Indians turned out pretty well, for a team that was expressly built for failure. They turned out a lot better than the ’03 Tigers, a team that was presumably designed to win games, but only managed to do so 43 times (oddly enough, right at replacement level — meaning Detroit could have stripped payroll to $10M, rounded up a bunch of scrubs, and given themselves a good chance at a better year). Even the ’03 Tigers, though, were a terrifying baseball juggernaut compared to the 1899 Cleveland Spiders, whose season reads like a screenplay for Major League 4, only without any semblance of a happy ending. The Spiders’ owners shipped all their best players to their other team in St. Louis, replaced them with a bunch of dudes named Crazy Schmit and Highball Wilson and Harry Colliflower, publicly stated their intention to run the club as “a sideshow,” and scheduled 112 games on the road after the rest of the league decided they’d rather put hot coals in their jockstraps than come to Cleveland. Somehow they still managed to win more than a tenth of their games, a testament to the randomness of baseball.
Dearest NotGraphs,
What does the launch of FanGraphs Q&A mean for Ask NotGraphs? Do you feel that Dark Overlord Appelman is abusing his powers and encroaching on your territory? If so, I am certain the unwashed, besexed readers of NotGraphs will stand by your side in the fight against against Appelman and his exquisite abs.
Best,
A Young Revolutionary