As ESPN, Wikipedia, The Baltimore Sun, MASN reporter Roch Kubatko, and 44,400 search results tell us, Grant Balfour is “now in jeopardy.” More evidence below:

You, the Jeopardy attentive reader, should consider it your duty to imagine further punny categories in the comments below.

(COREY KLUBER is at home, listening to a French language-learning podcast.)

PODCAST HOST
In the conversation you’ve just heard, Romain has explained to Pauline his holiday travel plans. Now practice your speaking skills by repeating the following sentence from the conversation.

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The following tweet, which concerns a real and not fake roster move by the Cleveland Indians, is entirely and in-no-way altered from the original (click to embiggen):

A recent experiment conducted by the author — in his capacity not as a baseball writer, it should be noted, but rather as a mere private citizen — has revealed that taking to the internet in search of the phrase “hard angry confrontation” produces what Lord Byron probably described in Don Juan somewhere as “pleasures manifold.”

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Regarding Chance Ruffin, who was recently designated for assignment by the foul-smelling Mariners, we are faced with two possibilities insofar as his soul, essence and factory settings are concerned. The first is that, as put forth by Chance Ruffin stakeholders and as is widely believed, he is a simple pitcher absorbed by his craft. Witness this action-news photograph providing evidence to that end:

Seems plausible. But now comes the following image, which suggests that, no, Chance Ruffin is — actually and in actuality — a hyper-realistic thumb puppet:

That, mute onlookers, is unassailably a thumb puppet. Note that absence of any real slope from head to neck, which is indicative of both thumb-ness and thumb-dom. Also note the wee size. Furthermore, note that the adorable little thumb-beard conveniently obscures the first joint just below the thumb pad. Now imagine his doing a cute and wiggly bow toward you, hinging at that beard-hidden joint, as Chance Ruffin, Thumb Puppet Nonpareil, entertains all who have repaired to the parlor. Wiggle, wiggle. Tee hee. His little cap fell off!

Chance Ruffin, you see, is a hyper-realistic thumb puppet.

(HT: @theiri)

Hard for me to believe Mark Ellis is only 36.

Mark Ellis played with Randy Velarde on the 2002 A’s.
Randy Velarde played with Joe Niekro on the 1987 Yankees.
Joe Niekro played with Ernie Banks on the 1967 Cubs.
Ernie Banks played with Hank Sauer on the 1953 Cubs
Hank Sauer played with Ernie Lombardi on the 1941 Reds
Ernie Lombardi played with Jack Quinn on the 1931 Brooklyn Robins
Jack Quinn played with Jack Chesbro on the 1909 New York Highlanders
Jack Chesbro debuted on the 1899 Pirates.

Yes, I realize you can do that with every player.

But Mark Ellis still seems really old to me.

Gavin Floyd–the most average pitcher of our generation. He has a 70-70 career record, 100 ERA+, and has allowed 1150 hits in 1151 innings.

— High Heat Stats (@HighHeatStats) December 16, 2013

• Gavin Floyd’s 2006 Honda Civic still gets 32 MPG, thanks to a rigorous schedule of oil changes and a good dose of fuel additives.
• Gavin Floyd’s favorite meal is boiled chicken breast with white rice and a little bit of parmesan cheese. If he’s feeling randy, he’ll add some onions.
• Gavin Floyd’s favorite song is that one by Kelly Clarkson. No, the other one. I dunno, sing it.
• Gavin Floyd has water delivered to his home. He finds city water too spicy.
• Gavin Floyd’s favorite color is clear.
• The ratio of cigarettes smoked by a 14-year-old Gavin Floyd to confessions of smoking by Gavin Floyd to his priest is precisely 1:23.
• Gavin Floyd clicks Like for every post he sees on Facebook, so as to not make anyone feel left out.
• Gavin Floyd’s favorite restaurant is the Applebee’s at the airport.
• Gavin Floyd’s favorite Star Wars movie is Episode I.
• Gavin Floyd has seen every episode of NCIS at least twice.

That ugly, fascist thing known as “accountant’s truth” suggests to those gathered here today that the image embedded above depicts former Orioles first baseman Randy Milligan taking batting practice at the future site of Camden Yards in 1990. What the worthwhile and compelling “ecstatic truth” suggests, however, is that what one finds here is actually a photo sent to us from either during or just after the apocalypse — a time when Randy Milligan still partakes in batting practice, but only as a fleeting reminder of how simple and unfettered life was before the world destroyed itself.

Credit to MLB Cathedrals and probably some other entity for image.

Check out the Draft Registration post or peruse the links at the bottom of this-here post to understand the context.

You know me; I’m an honest guy. I had every intention of posting the results from Year 10. But here’s what happened: I simmed up to Year 10; I surveyed the prospect carnage before me; and I knew immediately the dream was dead. Out of sheer pity, I went ahead and proceeded to Year X, the year in which the all the prospects had retired. And because the vast majority of prospects had retired by Year 10, I needed sim only three more years until the deed, like holding a pillow fast over the throat of our baseball dreams, was done.

Or maybe not.

After the simming, it became apparent two careers had bloomed late and we indeed had some legit major leaguers on our hands. So instead of going through the 17 spoiled careers of our custom-made prospects, I’m going to lighten the tone and celebrate the mildly successful careers of two of our young men: 1B Fred Hamilton and INF Andrew “Swede” Osborn.
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Hopeless Joe here, with a look at one of baseball’s top remaining free agents, someone I think has been getting a raw deal in the marketplace, with virtually no downside to signing him, a MVP award in his past, ability to play every infield position, or at least maybe, great character guy in the clubhouse, if you define character as someone who would make for a good antagonist in a movie, probably one of the ages he has claimed to be, or at least close to one of the ages he has claimed to be, possibly not still on drugs, maybe the owner of a Dominican Winter League team different from the one he was playing for, suspended in multiple countries.

I’m of course talking about Sam Fuld. Wait, no, Sam Fuld is a model citizen. Who I would pick in a fantasy draft, which is why I don’t play fantasy baseball. I mean Miguel Tejada. Who batted a .288 last season, and is obviously getting screwed, just like I got screwed when the plant I work for shut down. I mean died. Because I forgot to water it. Yes, I worked for a plant. His owner left him a ton of money in his will, and all I had to do was water him, and talk to him, and I couldn’t even do that, and he died and the executor of the will had me fired and now I don’t know what I’m doing and these FanGraphs pieces barely pay my rent, and I tried to pitch a piece to Psychology Today last week but they ended up sending someone to my apartment for an intervention, and, needless to say, they did not buy my article, even though I think the untold story of one of the widespread afflictions I suffer from, Fear of My Shadow, is a piece worth printing. But I digress.

Robinson Cano batted a .271 in 2008, which is 17 points lower than Tejada’s average last year. And Cano just got $240 million. So I don’t understand why no one is signing Tejada to a $260 million contract. It’s not like 39 is old. Please, don’t say 39 is old. Please.

Prediction: New York Mets, 1 year, $3 million.