UPDATE/URGENT CALL TO ACTION: You should totally vote for John Danks.

With the confetti-strewn convention floor now closed for nominations, it’s time to cast those ballots. Hanging in the balance? The matter — a matter most vital — of which current ballplayer is to be nicknamed “Captain Black Tobacco.” That is, who will join Wily Mo “Bad Miracle” Peña as one who has been honored, beyond all hopes and estimations, by the NotGraphs hive mind?

Let us proceed immediately to the trustworthy Diebold machine …

Thank you for voting. Please enjoy this patriotic sticker.

Our ongoing quest, in the manner of a noble knight-errant, is to assign players to cool nicknames rather than indulge in the tired, shopworn paradigm of assigning nicknames to cool players.

Last (and first) time out, Wily Mo Peña fought off Milton Bradley and others (with his fists!), scored a narrow plurality and earned the nickname “Bad Miracle.”

The nickname up for grabs in this episode? It’s “Captain Black Tobacco”!

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I consider myself a rather feverish defender of Colby Rasmus against the mewling hordes who would trade him away for, say, Rick Honeycutt. However, my devotions to Mr. Rasmus and his flat bill, which makes him look fly, are shamefully lesser than those of this young lady …

No, I’m not going to mock impressionable teens when they undertake something with earnestness. Instead, here’s a decidedly partial listing of things that “Fire Burning in the Outfield” is better than: Creed, the poetry I wrote in college, seafood, the NFL, Broadway musicals, Rick Reilly, “Two-and-a-Half Men,” tribal-armband tattoos, Nickelback, people interested in Casey Anthony’s whereabouts, the body politic. I could go on, but I need to watch that again.

So where’s your hip-hop paean, La Russa?

(Loving ballad to reader Nick for the 411.)

Man of a Thousand Employers Billy Martin knows a thing or two about a thing or two about real baseball. As such, it should come as no surprise that Martin is profoundly impressed by the Realistic Home-Video Baseball Game that is in his midst …

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D54sGd7lUYQ&feature=related

Once upon a time, there was a distinct line between Actual Baseball and the Realistic Home-Video Baseball Game. But then the sorcerers at Atari Video-Gaming Concern came along and blurred that line to the point of invisibility. Billy Martin told us so. Like sinners at a tent revival, we have no choice but to heed his words.

Via the DCist comes your Daguerreotype of the Evening, which is Jayson Werth’s admiring, from a sensible remove, an unfolding situation that can best be described as “The Gentleman’s Dilemma” …

Since we can’t see Mr. Werth’s rapt countenance, we’re forced to speculate on how, exactly, he might be taking all this in. Is his pose one of cool detachment? Mounting revulsion? Fear that, much like Philly, tasers are spoken here? Vague, gnawing hope that tasers are spoken here? Envy that has its foundations in his longstanding desire to be manhandled by a battalion of constables while wearing his most gorgeous bridal whites? Or is he merely admiring the craftsmanship of the “N” on the outfield wall?

Or are his eyes closed as he thinks back to that time, years ago, in an open-air bazaar in Tangiers, when he let Dr. Vega slip from his grasp …

(Thanks to reader Josh and his assassin’s sense of calm for calling this to our attention.)

It’s time for another installment of “Shorter Baseball Columnists,” in which we read mainstream baseball columnists and marginalized bloggers like Murray Chass so you don’t have to! Let us begin!

Shorter Bill Conlin: If you quote Ryan Howard’s WAR to me, I might just kill your stupid face.

Shorter T.J. Simers: For some reason, Ned Colletti isn’t telling me precisely what I’d like to hear.

Shorter Bill Plaschke: Peter Bourjos is like a kid out there and also cute.

Shorter Mike Lupica: I am not a lawyer, but Roger Clemens is in trouble.

Shorter Dan Shaughnessy: I am not a lawyer, but Roger Clemens is out of trouble.

Shorter Murray Chass: The All-Star Game can be saved by Twitter, which I hate.

The “Shorter” approach to Internetty commentary traces back, as best as one can tell, to Daniel Davies.

Who among us has not struggled with a gadget in the manner of a baboon straining to crack open a coconut? Who among us, I say!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Kh-tOUSWKK8

While I fear and loathe robots as much as the next man, it may, I fear, be the digital camera that is the first contraption to go “Skynet” and kill us all. As Gouverneur Morris admonished us, “When the computers take over U.S. Cellular Field, then you’ll know war — a final, determinative war — is afoot.”

(Robot hug: Blame It on the Voices)

As you may have heard, a mistrial was declared today in L’Affaire Roger Clemens, which means he will avoid the hoosegow in spite of his grave crimes against humanity. How should you feel about this stunning turn of events? As ever, the AP brings the dirty, and the FOX commenters bring the lucid wisdom. For starters, here’s something called “caddy 1621,” who, as you might have guessed, is caps-fuc*ing-locked:

THIS HOLE (sic) TRIL (sic) WAS ABOUT CLEMENS LYING TO CONGRESS (sic) I CANT BELEAVE (sic) HOW CLEMENS FANS ARE DUMB SHTS (sic) (sic)

And that’s the entire story, isn’t it? All that’s needed for proper perspective and closure is an airtight, thoroughly appropriate comparison with which no one can rightly disagree. Care to help us out, “maineac”?

First OJ, next Casey Anthony and now Clemens! All guilty and let go!

Now go forth, emboldened by what you have learned here today.

The extemporaneous nature of broadcasting makes for many a hazard. After all, there can be only so much stagecraft involved when the events that drive the broadcasting aren’t preordained. Chip Caray turns a hit into an out, Ernie Anastos gives the weatherman a rather curious directive (NSFW!), and so on.

Now what happens when you introduce crowd shots into this volatile melange? Chaos. What happens when those crowd shots are of 20-somethings disinclined to resist their beery urges? I’ll tell you: silence — beautiful, beautiful silence, awkward in the extreme — followed by a noble yet failed effort to smother the silly-giggles …

History teaches us that Daniel Webster won the debate over protectionist tariffs only after he stuffed his paw down the bodice of an onlooking chaste maiden and thus reduced Senator Hayne, his loyal opponent, to guffaws, spit-takes and high-fives. I have no doubt that the current debt-ceiling loggerheads will be resolved only when one of the combatants makes with the groping.

Thankful boob grab: With Leather

Topps, world-famous makers of cardboard cards, has, for the first time, issued a baseball card for a former president. Here’s an image, festooned with the autographs of said Leader of the Republic Emeritus …

By all means, click and embiggen! And please dig the autograph!

Regardless of what you think of President Zen El and his policies, it’s nice to see President Zen El happily lobbing the cowhide. Congratulations, President Zen El!