Professional athletes require a supreme amount of self-confidence to weather the daily ups and downs of competition on a national stage.

For Major League Baseball hitters, that’s especially true: as the old adage goes, if you fail 70% of the time, you’re doing pretty good.

Sometimes that confidence extends into hubris, which might be the case with Marlins outfielder Justin Ruggiano:

@ken_rosenthal no we don’t. I got this.

— Justin Ruggiano (@justinruggiano) November 29, 2012

Ruggiano’s breakout 2012, in which he posted a triple-slash of .313/.374/.535 with 13 HR and a .390 wOBA in 320 PAs for the Marlins while playing all three OF positions, is giving him the confidence to claim far more than just starting CF job for his team in 2013. In fact, he’s ready to solve all manner of problems:

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Being inside the Opryland is a lot like being outside in French Polynesia. Plus, balloons.

Here are five things the author has witnessed within his first two hours at baseball’s Winter Meetings:

1. Famous baseballing writer Peter Gammons perform a maneuver not exactly like, but pretty similar to, a crane kick while attempting to navigate a particularly crowded walkway.

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The Hall of Fame announced its 2013 ballot last week, and was nearly drowned out by a choir of angry crickets. The Hall is now facing its own equivalent of the fiscal cliff: fifteen players have legitimate arguments for induction, the writers can vote for a maximum of ten, and will probably vote for one or two.

Frustrations have been boiling over on Twitter, baseball’s stream of consciousness, where events played out like a Syd Finch textbook. You have your old, out-of-touch former baseball writer playing the part of the troll, trumpeting his ability to keep out “the druggies”; you have your young, impassioned bloggers desperate to feed him; and you have your eventual eyerolling from those above (or behind) the fray. This is stupid, they said collectively, each removing and polishing their metaphorical pince-nez. Personal awards are stupid. Caring about the Hall of Fame is stupid.

The Hall of Fame is stupid. But caring about it isn’t. The Hall of Fame, flawed as it is, is important.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been currently reading a biography of Adlai Stevenson, former statesman and bald person. Stevenson ran for President twice, in 1952 and 1956, and lost to the same guy both times by about the same margin. He had a gentle face and a keen wit: when he was on the campaign trail, he was once told that he had the vote of every thinking man in America. “That’s not enough,” he replied. “I need a majority.”

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Systems Architect, Baseball Analytics – My Fantasy Team (New York, NY)

Reports to Director, Baseball Analytics

JOB SUMMARY:
My fantasy team is seeking a highly motivated data architect, systems developer, and flexible user of a very old version of Microsoft Excel to deliver analytics solutions to determine how to convert the league’s complex scoring system into actual concrete advice as far as who to draft, who to trade, and who to bench each week. This individual will also support projects for broader business operations, including desk maintenance and meal preparation. The ideal applicant will be able to manage multiple concurrent projects and blend quietly into the corner of the room.

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What is BABIP? Why did Jose Hernandez have little nubs for hands? How does BABIP affect me and my children and my fantasy children? These are the hard hitting questions that my latest video, “Hitter BABIP: Yet More Dragons and Such,” tackles.
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He is not Smokin’ Jay Cutler. He is not even Smokin’ Obama. He is, however, frumpy, disheveled and vaguely anguished at all times. He wears a suit, but he also sleeps in that suit. He smells like outgoing mail. He is the Shelley Levene of highly paid executives.

For these reasons, Bud Selig smokes, even if, within the misleading bounds of reality, he doesn’t smoke. Bud Selig smokes because he is Smokin’ Bud Selig …

“For once, can’t you just handle this yourself?” Smokin’ Bud Selig says. “Christ, I just need an Anacin, a Sanka and some sleep.”

When I was a younger person than I am right now — like by 10 or so years, actually — I emailed David Berman (author of Actual Air, frontman of the Silver Jews, and graduate of UMass-Amherst’s MFA program that’s way better than Iowa’s dumb MFA program that’s dumb) and asked him where, if I were in Nashville ever, I should make a priority of going. The Gold Rush, is what he responded — if for no other reason than the members of 1980’s hair-band Cinderella were regulars there.

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