Courtesy of the drop-dead gorgeous Chris Cwik comes this Polaroid snapped on game day deep in the bowels of Modern Telephone Concern Sports Enclosure:

I have taken it upon myself to use Les Couleurs to obscure the faces of the two demonstrably less compelling White Socked base-and-ball-ists in this daguerreotype (is that Stan Damned Bahnsen on the far right?) and will instead allow the reader’s eyes to feast, in Old Country Buffet-fashion, upon Dick Allen and Dick Allen alone.

Are you not uplifted by this? If you are, then please pay it forward on this fine day by vanquishing someone of poor taste and breeding.

You, the pure of heart, look at this:

This has been Rabbit Maranville surrounded by rabbits. This has been your Daguerreotype of the Evening.

The other night, Gorgeous P. Bourjos of the Los Angeles America Angels hit a home run, which, being a home run, means it was a figurative bomb, even if it was an inside-the-park home run, which it was. As well, the curious behavior of first-responding outfielders Josh Willingham and Denard Span suggests that it was also a bomb in the literal sense. Click twice and bear awed witness:

That’s not a literal bomb, you say? Then why is Mr. Span dropping it like … a bomb and then backpedaling with Mercury’s haste? And why is Mr. Willingham scrambling to get safely below the forthcoming blast field? Hmmm?

It was a bomb, so shut up.

The handsome and besexed reader has no doubt been waiting, breath breathily bated, for news on the unfurling 2007 controversy surrounding the New Bedford, Massachusetts Youth Baseball League. To update:

– A 92-signature petition requesting the presumably blood-soaked removal of the league’s Executive Board has been filed with the Attorney General’s Office.

– Said Executive Board curiously won quite a large share of those league raffle dollars, in some instances, oddly enough, in increments roughly proportional to the amount of power wielded by each member of the Executive Board.

– Ejected coaches are supposed to be fined, and the coach of Manny’s Barber Shop totally was indeed fined upon being ejected. Not fined for being ejected, however, was Coach DeGrasse, who, it so happens, is a member of the Executive Board.

– Complain to the mayor about the conduct of the Executive Board, and you shall be relieved of coaching duties. At least that’s what happened to the former Coach Pereira.

– League Vice President Heather Rowan was allegedly “talking about vibrators in front of the kids.”

– Someone, someone possibly with allegiances to Ma’s Donuts, threw a rock and hit the parent of a player for Manny’s Barbershop, a team already the target of previous ruthlessness on the part of the Executive Board.

– As well, there is an almost palpable lack of “urgency from them [the big assholes of the Executive Board] to find out who threw the rock.”

– As well, there is an almost palpable “conspiracy to expel me [Coach Duarte, of Manny’s Barber Shop] from the league . . .”

Developing.

Young Marty Brennaman often refers to his choices in neckwear as “the Cadillac of ties, baby.”

Young Marty Brennaman knows that sometimes a gentleman prefers roasted lamb with mint jelly, and sometimes a gentleman prefers a hot dog and beans.

Young Marty Brennaman is convinced that today’s kids would abandon that loud “Rocking Roll” music if they’d just sit down with a belt of Dewar’s and give Artie Shaw a listen.

Young Marty Brennaman was once afflicted with a case of Montezuma’s Revenge during a brief stopover in Porter, Texas. “Curse this town,” he said as he crossed the county line. “And curse the unborn sons of the sons of this town.”

Young Marty Brennaman is proud of the sliding bench seats in his Buick. “You like these, toots?” he’ll say. “It’s like a flying sofa, sweet cakes.”

After a show and a relaxing, belt-loosener of a seafood dinner, Young Marty Brennaman has been known to promise a skoit “a night of steakhouse-recipe love-making, doll face.”

Young Marty Brennaman is still annoyed about that unopened pack of Parliaments he left over at Paul Hornung’s coop.

Young Marty Brennaman can dance to that, so long as that dance is the “Hully Gully.”

Young Marty Brennaman surveys the future before him and says, “I think I’ll do this the Marty Brennaman way.”

(Image — handsome image — first spied at BTF)

It is established fact that Mr. Redlegs is the greatest mascot in baseball. This is established fact in large part because Mr. Redlegs looks like he brawls on riverboats. It is fitting, then, that the disembodied ball-head of Mr. Redlegs has been rendered in the timeless artistic medium of wholesome frosting:

Some things you should know about this cake:

– Lordly reader Bryan passed this along. I assume he baked, photographed and ate the cake pictured.
– Hot Lips had a birthday.
– The countertop appears to be formica.
– Surely, at some point, Pete Rose made love to Loretta Swit.

The nomination process, which was just delightful, is now complete. And now, citizens of America and her conquered lands, the time for taking part in the illusion of democracy has come.

The FanGraphs Administrative Subdivision Devoted to Patriotic Outcomes, known in commoner’s pidgin as La Svetlana, has whittled the list of vetted eligibles down to 10.

Your guiding query: Which player, because he is joyous, should be nicknamed “Opening Day”? Vote with care, caution and undying fealty to Dear Leader …

Thank you for exercising the franchise.

What we do is assign cool nicknames to players rather than perpetuate the tired, lamewad practice of assigning cool players nicknames. Last time out, Nick Swisher did something humorous and unmentionable to the nickname “Señor Buttcheeks” and got a hearty laugh from all the cool kids. So Mr. Swisher has been added to our Hall of Honouur, which is so stately, so regal, so much itself a celebration of the Norman Conquest, that an extra British-English unstressed “u” is required for proper spelling …

Read the rest of this entry »

If you’re partial to connoisseur’s baseball — the kind of ball-match in which runs are earned by grit, moxie and a toiler’s ethic — then yesterday’s Orioles contest should be to your liking:

Much as one does not merely walk into Mordor, a major-league team does not merely stride onto a diamond housing the ball-ists of Manatee Community College and expect to escape without a brawler’s bruises. If it consoles, then know that the vanquished Orioles share the yoke of the defeated with the mighty likes of Indian River State College and Polk State College and the University of Tampa junior-varsity squad and Florida State College-Jacksonville.

Indeed, not all who have dared square off against Manatee Community College have been as fortunate as Palm Beach State College and Chipola College and Seminole State College and Broward College (twice) and Florida State College-Jacksonville (thrice) and Polk State College and, well, quite a number of others, actually.

But no, not every team can be so kissed by the fates — so groped by the fates like a coquette on a Tokyo subway — as to escape the presence of Manatee Community College without a loss. Although that University of Tampa junior-varsity squad tied them at one point, it seems …

Anyhow, one might notice the gallery of tossers that the Orioles faced upon the yesterday …

Doubtless, the reader will be reminded of that solemn piece of base-and-ball doggerel, penned by Grantland Rice when he worked the MCC beat like a flatfoot on the Bowery …

So chins up, Orioles of Baltimore: for countless others have met such a fate!

But not Hillsborough Community College, it turns out.

Here’s the cover of Jaci Burton’s Changing the Game:

And here I am, moved to make a noun out of “gorgeous-dangerous.” This books is a gorgeous-dangerous that I wouldn’t mind reading while safely positioned over my parlor fainting couch. Consider these pearls clutched. Consider this bodice ripped. Now consider these selected Amazon reviews of Burton’s gorgeous-dangerous:

– “Like how can you start falling in love with someone when all you do is bang them.” – eestev

– “The sex scenes were incredible and boy of boy, do those Riley boys have stamina…” – Kindle Lover

– “The sex parts were my favorite. I had a very hard time putting this book down. I can’t wait for the next book. I hope it is released soon.” – kitten123

– “One of the best I’ve read this year, and yes, a cold shower is definitely needed after this one.” – Jolie Weber

– “This one will leave you wanting a cold shower!” – Donna

– “Don’t forget to prepare the fan, ladies, because just like the first one this book is going to make you sweat, trust me ;)” – Alaiel Kreuz

– “I felt reading this book came straight out of a porn movie and she just wrote it in words.” – Roo

– “Sex. Sex, sex, sex. Sex.” – Kelly S.

– “I was bored by all the sex – which must be the biggest crime for an author of erotic romance.” – NStort

– “Boundless humping. Shorn, sinewy torsos. Loin-moistener of the week. 8.4 WAD (Wins Above Dirty). Baseball.” – D_CameronY2K

Review copy along with gold bridal hand fan hereby requested!