April’s over, so it’s time to take a look at the longest-name-of-the-year standings and see who’s shaping up to be a top contender.  As of April 30:

1. Jarrod Saltalamacchia | 14

2T. Al Alburquerque | 12

2T. Will Middlebrooks | 12

4T. Chad Billingsley | 11

4T. Joba Chamberlain | 11

4T. Edwin Encarnacion | 11

4T. Paul Goldschmidt | 11

4T. Adeiny Hechavarria | 11

4T. Bobby LaFramboise | 11

4T. Steve Lombardozzi | 11

4T. Darin Mastroianni | 11

4T. Kirk Nieuwenhuis | 11

4T. Brett Oberholtzer | 11

4T. Tyler Pastornicky | 11

4T. Marc Rzepczynski | 11

4T. Nate Schierholtz | 11

Quite a race, as you can see.  Saltalamacchia once again seems to be in the lead, although given that it’s only the end of April, we do have to watch out for small sample size.  Billingsley’s injury probably takes him out of contention for the rest of the year — it seems unlikely he’ll be able to get back in time to make up two whole letters, even if the rehab goes well.  

Bobby LaFramboise is a surprise contender — his name just doesn’t look that long until you start counting the letters!  That’s a hidden skill that his team will hopefully take advantage of.  Once again, Jeff Samardzija shows promise, but misses out on the leaderboard when you really start adding up those characters.  Like we always say here at long-name-central headquarters, it’s not about how hard it is to pronounce, it’s about the actual count.  So no extra points for Rzepczynski or Nieuwenhuis. Their letters count just the same as the ones in Goldschmidt.  

Smart money is on Saltalamacchia holding off the contenders, especially with this early-season lead.  Always have to watch for someone like Hechavarria adding some consonants in the midseason heat, or someone getting married and deciding to hyphenate, but for right now, these are the standings.  We’ll check back in a couple of months and see if anything’s changed.

1. Electric – Reliable standby, well supported by existing infrastructure. Invented by Ben Franklin when he was struck on the biscuits by thunder atop America Mountain in Texas. Can be used to cook unopened can of frank-and-beans on a hot plate while sobbing.

2. Solar – Sourced from giant, fiery, unblinking eye of Quetzalcoatl that looms above us. Uninterrupted service requires quarterly sacrifice of virginal wet nurse. Can be brought down from the sky in glorious immolation by repeated musket fire.

3. Dirty coal – Clean coal gets most of the attention these days, but don’t sleep on dirty coal. Ideally, you’ll use religious texts as kindling — the texts of the objectively incorrect religions not your own, natch. Dirty coal reads the Kama Sutra and eats Crab Rangoon on the toilet, largely as a consequence of being dirty. Black lung can be cured with prescription frank-and-beans.

4. Hydroelectric – Pleasing mix of high voltage levels and water. If there’s not a New Deal-era dam near you, bear-hug a space heater and have a friend lower you into the municipal sewer. When sinewy gondolier asks for password, say “password1.” Not case-sensitive. Take to drinking cognac while using public transit and loudly referring to yourself as “The Hennessy Valley Authority.”

5. Battery – Purchase vinyl press of Mel Torme’s album of American-songbook standards, “Shake Your Shitty Fists at the 9-Volt.” Back-mask side two. Follow instructions on switching North American power grid to battery standby mode. Whisper “Hail Satan” to the children of strangers.

Miguel Olivo thought his bat could have done a better job Tuesday, so he told him so.

Apologies to Carlos Perez, but Brian Wilson’s feedback to the water cooler on July first, 2011 — that has a touch more Hulk in its smash.

Not impressed? Wilson’s final judgement is directed at you, then.

Pity the poor Ismael Valdez, whose pitching so uninspired the photographers at Upper Deck that they denied him his very livelihood on this circa-2000 baseball card. It’s like they knew his career was about to go into the proverbial turlet thanks to shoulder trouble, and were suggesting that discerning fans would derive more joy watching him hit in the first year of the new willenium, rather than pitch. No one should have to endure such an indignity, to have his accomplishments so cavalierly tossed aside and misrepresented.

When our memories fade, and we look back on his career, will we remember him as he was, or as Upper Deck would have us remember him? When untold generations come wondering about Ismael Valdez, and they find this card, what will they think about a man so inconsequential that no one saw fit to document him doing what he did best? What he loved best? How could we have allowed this to happen?

Ismael Valdez deserves what any man deserves, to be remembered for what he was. Not canonized or marginalized. He averaged 199 innings from 1995-1999 with an ERA+ of 117. He was a fly ball pitcher who faired well in Dodger Stadium, but who struggled when he hurt his shoulder and moved on to Wrigley Field. He never again reached the dizzying heights he experienced as a 23 year old. He finished one game under .500 for his career, at 104-105, with a 4.09 ERA. He was not a Cy Young candidate. He was not cannon fodder. He was part of baseball’s great faceless middle class, about whom no one is ever going to write a biography and who few will ever talk about again. He will not be remembered, at least not as he was. The world is a cruel place for men such as these.