On Monday, I called on the slobbering NotGraphs masses to help out some of my fantasy league mates in procuring better fantasy team names. The response was, to say the least, heart warming. But kind of heart warming like heartburn is heart warming. Warm, but troubling. And bad for esophagus.

Anyway, we NotGraphers voted for their favorite names in the league, and — much to my exhausted dismay — we had a tie for worst. The voters collectively decided that the Edmonton Trappers and chy924’s Team (which I think is a default team name) needed some nominal surgery.

The suggestions ranged from crass to clever and back to crass again. I have compiled a number of the best names, as well as some duds (for profiling purposes) and now:

I call on you once again, diligent, critical, and largely male, bespectacled, and inwardly wistful NOTGRAPHS READERSHIP, WHICH NAME IS BESTEST???

This poll closes Saturday morning with the beginning of Spring Training games — because by then, we should all be firmly planted in front of our Baseball Viewing Devices, and not voting in silly polls or spending time with silly wives and silly, stinky spawn.

Of course it is the fantasy baseball season now.

So, what have you named YOUR team? Carson Cistulli recently mentioned the Second Fangraphs Writers Ottoneu league — here shortened to THE AWESOME LEAGUE — during his podcast with Dayn Perry (FanGraphs Audio: The Gainfully Employed Dayn Perry) and the topic of team names briefly surfaced in their 43 minutes of otherwise unredeemable radio ranting.

There are lots of great fantasy baseball team names out there, and because THE AWESOME LEAGUE (my league) is comprised (a) entirely of writers and (b) partly of NotGraphs writers, who are the beatnik poets of the FanGraphs staff, we NotGraphers have the burdensome task of out-awesoming our peers in the most shortest form of poetry — yes, the fantasy baseball team name.

But, as we are all writers and thereby unreliable, backstabbing, self-loathing types, we cannot be trusted judges of our own team names — it is obviously that mine is best, but still we should put it to a vote and find who is the obviously second and the obviously worstest.

So, dear NotGraphs rabble, speak your soul:

Though I don’t even have like permission to share these THE AWESOME LEAGUE team names, I think we should compel the lowest vote-getter (by, oh, let’s say Wednesday) to change their fantasy team name.

What should they change it too? (tell me in the comments)

Some days, we make Peter Gammons tweets looks pretty funny; some days, Peter Gammons makes the funny for us. And then he reaches into our souls with shaky thumbs, and brushes off the cobwebs to flip the rusty lever to make us think and to ponder and to trouble over our own and very and uniquely terrifying existence.

Today is the second day — the day where that thinking crap happens. After the laughing bit:

I’m on an elliptical right now, but have been slowed by glute pull that won’t go away and hurts my back. You’re in Jupiter

— Peter Gammons (@pgammo) February 18, 2012

, not Orlando?

— Peter Gammons (@pgammo) February 18, 2012

If this accidental poetry does not tug on your heartstrings, festoon your soul with sparkling, golden laughter and secret, shimmering and crimson red regrets — secret pains about secret problems you feel shameful to tell your deepest most dear friends and loved ones — if these two tweet poems do not do all this, then check your heart, man. Or woman. Because the cybermen may have replaced the beating muscle of your existence with a tuft of wiring and cold steel. Just like in that distressing dream I just awoke from.

Also, Glute is a butt muscle… BUTT JOKE! (Discuss.)

A gentleman’s bow, courtly and obliquely disdainful, towards the shareful Yirmiyahu.

The world is plum full of photos. As evidence, here is that Japanese news site, covering Yu Darvish as he boards a plane for LAX:

Because I don’t speak the Japanese, I must build my reactions from scratch.

QUICK REACTION: Darvish is wearing hipster glasses. HE IS NOT READY FOR THE PRESSURES OF MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL.
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News broke on Thursday that star pitching man Zack Greinke will represent himself after dismissing his agent. It certainly seems like a bold move, but it’s not entirely unprecedented.

Remember ol’ Boots Poffenberger? The secret, unofficially anointed Hero of Notgraphs? Well not only is Poffenberger a straight-superior super such, but he also has a Wikipædia entry rife with delightful tales of debauchery, war, and regrettable decisions and heart-warming life-lessons.

What the entry lacks, however, is the details of Poffenberger’s self-representation, details which the Notgraphs Investigation Team unearthed and is presently sharing with world.

In Boots’s Wik entry, it notes: “After a strong rookie season, Boots held out for more money.” What it fails to point out is that Boots, who represented himself, also required several peculiar and highly specific clauses in his contract. They are as follows:
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BEHOLD! THE WORLD’S MOST INSTRUCTIVE SPECTRUM, THE MUSTACHE-SPECTACLES SPECTRUM:

THIS IS THE MOMENT THE PROPHETS FORETOLD, WHEN THEY SPAKE:

…AND THERE SHALL COME A SPECTRUM, A BEAM OF WISDOM AND ETHNICITY THAT STARTS THICK AND FUZZLED AND CURLING AROUND THINE UPPER LIP, BECOMES THINNED AND VAGUELY HISPANIC WITH AN AFRO SQUEEZING FROM YONDER CAP, AND ENDS PURE AND PURELY BESPECTACLED, YET MILDLY UNSURE IF THE PICTURE HATH YET BEEN TAKEN — AND YE SHALL UNDERSTAND THE LOCKED CAPS AND WHY WE HATH TO YOU GIVEN THEM. LET IT BE SO. (AXFORD 5:9)

NOW IT ALL MAKES SENSE — LENNY SAKATA, WILLIE MUELLER, AND DANNY BOITANO.

DANNY BOITANO, WILLIE MUELLER, AND LENNY SAKATA. ALL ONE TEAM, ALL ONE SPECTRUM, BUT EACH A SEPARATE GLORY.

Last week, the Baltimore Orioles hired long time Oriole outfielder, one-time Oriole home-run phenom Brady Anderson to a Special Assistant role with the club. Outside of bringing the wisdom surprise 50 home run seasons to the Orioles front office, Anderson also brings the majesty of 90s sideburns.

Here is a memo Anderson sent out this morning to every Orioles player and front office staff member:

Let us now imagine what the 2012 Orioles roster will look like once this new iron fist of velcro cheeks has his druthers.
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Wow, I thought ads in U.S. sports were getting out of hand — you can hardly see Mr./Sr. Yoenis Cespedes after he whomps the ball.

Oh, and for all us non-Spanish speakers, just a moment after the advertisement disappears, we can hear a proper pronunciation for “Cespedes.”

In my mind (which is largely the only place I hear wOBA or WAR or BABIP pronounced), I have been saying ces-PED-ees. But it sounds more like the pronunciation might be CES-peddehz real fast-like, y’know, to make it look like you can actually with comfort speak a second tongue.

Well, congrats to Cespedes. How’s it feel to blast homers knowing each additional majesty-arch (a fancy new name for home runs) is like a crank on the cash register (except cash registers don’t crank anymore — plus team rarely pay from cash registers anymore; most use simple Funds Devices that transfer paychecks directly to the nearest Cadillac dealership)?

It feels good, I imagine.

SWEET MERCIFUL HEAVENS, WHY WAS I NOT
INFORMED OF THIS MAN SOONER?!

The name. The scraggly mustache. The hair, flipped out like my older sister loved to do in high school.

Not only is Pete LaCock’s family name LaCock — which is French (which he spoke) for “the cock” — but his first name is Peter, which means “rock.” Also, according to my Chrome dictionary app:

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Yes, I realize his name is probably pronounced “luh-zor” and is probably just a shortening of “Lazorako” or “Lazorachak,” but should that ruin our fun? The illustrious 19th and early 20th century Staten Island immigration workers say no — we should too!

First of all, the real facts: Johnny Lazor was a backup outfielder for the Boston Red Sox, and because of a little skirmish in Europe in the 1930s to 1940s, Lazor snatched a good chunk of playing time while Ted Williams and Dom DiMaggio served their country. Lazor played well in their absence, but was probably just a fourth outfielder succeeding in a league depleted by war.

But the real question we need to ask ourselves is this: What would a Saturday morning cartoon featuring said Johnny Lazor be about?
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