It’s possible that what Bob Uecker has about Kauffman Stadium is not, in fact, a joke, but rather a witticism. If not a witticism, there’s the off chance that what he has, instead, is either a sally or a bon mot.
Those are all fine. Whatever you do, though, don’t believe anyone who says that what Bob Uecker has about Kauffman Stadium is a quip. It’s not a quip, goddammit. Bob Uecker is better than that.
From the official Twitter account of the Chicago Cubs (click to embiggen, if you darest):
The universe is not required to be in perfect harmony with human ambition.
-Carl Sagan
Last night, however, the universe was in perfect harmony with the ambitions of Matt Cain, who, arguably, is more than human.
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To all those who emailed me about Carl Sagan in various MLB team hats: if I haven’t gotten you a jpeg yet, I will. Twenty teams were requested, so, you know. Also, make sure that when you leave a comment requesting said jpeg that you enter a valid email address in the comment apparatus.
The tenured reader — glistening from freshly completed coitus and trying to remember where he placed his fashion eyewear once passions overtook him — will recall this writer’s enthusiasm for one W.J. Slattery, crafter of prose and invader of boudoirs.
It so happens that, in the process of utilizing the best and most emergent features of the HotBot search engine, I stumbled upon one W.J. O’Connor, who shares not only leading initials with Mr. Slattery but also a dedication to the muscular prose of better days. Mr. O’Connor had this to say of a certain game in 1917, when men were men and women were, at best, “handsome” and “well preserved.” Writeth Mr. O’Connor:
“He [Johnson] first fielded it with his chest, and knocked it silly at his feet. He then laid a prehensile paw on the pill and came up with ample time to assist [George] Sisler with the out. But he suddenly lost his prehensileness, and tossed the ball over his shoulder like a superstitious person throwing salt to avoid a fight.”
Yes indeed, Mr. O’Connor. Yes indeed …
According to reports, the Orioles’ front office was not amused by images that surfaced on the Web today — images that appeared to show Baltimore outfielders cavorting on the exact same trampoline that derailed Yankee Joba Chamberlain’s season.
However, Adam Jones brushed off the incident, noting, “Man, I’m just trying to crack the top 3 on the All-Star ballot. I don’t know what it’s going to take, but I figured if I could nail a Misty 540 and throw in a pike grab, the voters might get on board.”
As for his partner-in-fun Ryan Flaherty, he declined to discuss the impromptu jump session, stating only that “I spend my off-days the way I want to spend them. My off-day is my off-day.”
One reporter observed that that the culture of late in the O’s clubhouse seemed oddly reminiscent of their arch-rivals in the AL East — to which manager Buck Showalter retorted, “Check the standings lately? It’s working.”
Dear NotGraphs,
In my dynasty league, my brother offered me Bubba Starling Castro for Josh Willinghamilton. Do you think it would be worth it in the long run?
Cheers,
7th Place
FanGraphs: the Game is real. I have proof.
First, how else can you explain my Giants first baseman? He’s ‘hitting’ .235/.314/.350… and Giants’ first basemen are hitting .207/.312/.336. My dude has a better ISO, the Aubrey Huff / Brett Pill / Brandon Belt monstrosity has a better walk rate. Both are right around replacement. Somehow I have my pick of the entire league, and the Giants have their pick of those three dudes, and we ended up in the same place.
On the other side of the coin, cwhitman is doing a heckuva job. His Nationals starter is performing like… a Nationals starter. His starter has an 8.76 K/9, 2.87 BB/9, and 0.83 HR/9 — the staff in our nation’s capital has an 8.48 K/9, 3.04 BB/9, 0.71 HR/9. Again, they had no choice beyond what was on their roster or in their system, cwhitman had plenty of choice, and they ended up in the same place.
Carl Sagan was awesome. He “simultaneously emphasiz[ed] the value and worthiness of the human race, and the relative insignificance of the Earth in comparison to the universe.” This complexity aligns him with the aesthetics of NotGraphs, where we both celebrate the wondrous oddities of a human-made game (see any number of Carson Cistulli’s posts), and yet are all too aware of our insignificance as individuals and as a race of beings (see any number of Dayn Perry’s posts).
Baseballs and planets: of the same stuff.
All-Stars literary made of star stuff.
Craig McMurtry, thief of hearts!
He’s a good egg, McMurtry. If he drives a white, windowless van, then it’s for purposes of infiltrating the ranks of other drivers of white, windowless vans and then taking back the streets from same. The stylish zippered warm-up conceals a mighty heart.
The mustache forms a “C.” The lenses of his eyewear form two “O”s. “Coo” is the call of a pigeon. “COO” stands for “country of origin” and “Chief Operating Officer.” CoO is the chemical symbol for Cobalt Oxide. It is also the code for a West African airport, the safety record of which would likely horrify coddled first-worlders with hearts less mighty than the muscled organ that beats within Craig McMurtry’s chest and locked, bony cage.
Motel to airships, chemical compound poisonous to weaklings, executive with muted passions, the place you are from, a street bird’s despairing bray — Craig McMurty is all of these things. Without glasses and mustache, Craig McMurtry would be none of these things. Without Craig McMurtry, the glasses and mustache would be none of these things. QED.
The formula is a formula because it is etched upon the walls of a cave beneath a riverbed that is no more. No one fishes that river because the river has dried up.
Craig McMurtry doesn’t watch them not fish that river that dried up.
Actual initial thought upon seeing the headline below:
“Wow, I wonder what Ryan Zimmerman’s wife did.”
Sad commentary on how much attention I pay to non-baseball news. I also hear Brandon Allen won a primary in Virginia?