“Sure, he had a great year, but let’s see how he does somewhere other than the California League.”
“2014. Maybe.”
“If he can develop a third pitch, then he has ace potential, but if not, he’s a bullpen arm at best.”
“First base.”
“I saw him play three times last season, and still have no idea. His tools are obvious, but it’s a question of whether he can ever put it all together with any sort of consistency.”
“No, he was never indicted for it.”
“Are we doing anything on Saturday, March 17th?”
“2012, or are we talking even more than three months into the future?”
“2012.”
“Okay, I have no idea.”
“So it’s okay to schedule a fantasy baseball auction for that afternoon?”
“What time?”
“I don’t know yet. Does it matter?”
“Of course it doesn’t matter– it’s three months from now. I was trying to be funny.”
“There’s nothing funny about my fantasy baseball auction.”
[Read this post from yesterday if you don’t know what I’m talking about, then come back.]
1. Derek Jeter signed baseball.
2. Bottle of Driven, Derek Jeter’s personally-designed cologne, a blend of chilled grapefruit, clean oak moss, spice, pine tar, batting glove sweat, and Jeter’s own urine.
3. Gillette Venus razor, so you can groom yourself to Yankee standards. Come on, you can’t expect Derek to let you stay the night if you have stray and errant hairs.
4. Gatorade, to replenish the fluids you’ve lost.
5. Tide stain stick, to get rid of the fluids you’ve gained.
6. One month’s membership to your nearest Derek Jeter Signature 24 Hour Fitness location, so you look good enough for Derek to forget he’s had sex with you already and invite you back for a second turn.
7. A jar of Skippy peanut butter. Smooth, not chunky. Just like you.
8. Chlamydia
Any report that I ingested a performance-enhancing drug is wrong. Or at least a little wrong. Come on, let me try and defend myself.
Yes, I failed a test, but then I passed a test, so that means I was innocent all along. Right? Like a college that only counts your most recent SAT score. Sure, I got a 600 two weeks ago, but this time I got a 2350, so, hey, that first one must have been a mistake. I used the wrong kind of pencil. You wanted my urine, and I gave you some vomit mixed with orange juice, or whatever it is that I did that ended up testing positive for synthetic testosterone. Maybe there was synthetic testosterone on the toilet seat and it somehow fell into the cup. Maybe I got mixed up between the sample cup you gave me, and that sample cup of synthetic testosterone I was carrying around for a friend. Some guy in the airport gave me a cup of his urine and told me to hold it for him. The security folks only asked about strangers packing my bags, not about strangers giving me their urine, so I didn’t think to mention it. I am completely innocent. Wait, I’m not sure I know what innocent means.
In 2002, I joined the Cuban national baseball team, and I was instantly a superstar. .324, 21 home runs, 82 RBI, and I even pitched in a game. I set seven rookie records. In my second season, I hit .391. Then they banned me for talking to an agent. I didn’t talk to an agent. But once they banned me, what choice did I have? Twelve times I tried to escape to the U.S. I ended up in jail. Finally, I got to Florida, but then I needed to establish foreign residency to avoid the MLB Draft, so I went to the Dominican Republic. The Angels scouted and signed me. The Dominican Republic delayed my paperwork. Finally, I was allowed to play ball in the U.S. And so what if they thought my name was Kendry instead of Kendrys? After all I risked to come here, what does one letter of my name really matter?
WHO SAID IT: Matt Cain, or Herman Cain?
1. “To be able to go nine innings was completely amazing. That was definitely a little different, going straight over to the catcher and going back to the mound to shake hands.”
2. “OK, Libya. [pause] President Obama supported the uprising, correct? President Obama called for the removal of Gadhafi. I just wanted to make sure we’re talking about the same thing before I say, ‘Yes, I agreed’ or ‘No I didn’t agree.’ I do not agree with the way he handled it for the following reason — nope, that’s a different one. [pause] I gotta go back and see. I got all this stuff twirling around in my head. Specifically, what are you asking me that I agree or not disagree with Obama?”
ESPN reports that Greg Maddux will be joining the Rangers as a part-time special assistant.
From the article:
“I appreciate the Cubs and how they treated me,” Maddux said. “Now I’ll hopefully help the Rangers out. I’m really not ready to take anything full time anyway because retirement is too good. Whoever said they don’t like retirement probably isn’t doing it right.”
Or maybe they just didn’t earn $153,845,000 during their career, and get to retire before they’re 45. Good grief. If you can’t enjoy retirement with a hundred and fifty million dollars, then, sure, you’re probably not doing it right.
You may or may not be familiar with former New York Times sportswriter Murray Chass, and his blog. (That link to Wikipedia gives a decent summary: in short, Chass not a huge fan of statistics, bloggers, and Mike Piazza.) I leave it to others to cast broader judgment. I write this post only to express a little bit of confusion regarding his latest blog entry, featuring the headline:
WITH THIS WOULD-BE MANAGER,
V IS FOR LOSER
(Referring to Bobby Valentine, and his possible hiring by the Red Sox.)
Are there really no words starting with the letter V that mean loser, or something close?
Because that seems like an awfully weak headline if there’s any chance at all to find a word that starts with a V — or even has a V somewhere in it.
Faced with no better ideas for a post today, I decided to look for some possible alternatives. You may be able to do better in the comments.
My contenders:
1.
With this would-be manager,
V IS FOR VERBOSE,
which he is, often to the detriment of his players
2.
With this would-be manager,
V IS FOR VAUDEVILLIAN PERFORMANCES,
like wearing a disguise in the dugout
3.
With this would-be manager,
V IS FOR THE VOMITING
he inspires in me
One backup catcher, 30+, on-base skills sold separately. Similar products have been flying off the shelves. (So if you missed out on Barajas, Blanco, Doumit, Laird, Schneider, Treanor, act fast, or Jason/Ramon Kendall/Castro will soon be yours!)
One outfielder, highly used, for the price of ten. $4,500,000 [SOLD OUT]
There will be thirty divisions, one team each. The winner of each division will be declared a divisional champion. Shirts and hats will be created. Commemorative baseballs. An MLB collectible plate. More shirts. More hats. Maybe a patch or two.
The winners of each of these 30 divisions will play rock, paper, scissors to decide on home field advantage for each of the 435 possible matchups (30*29/2, mathematicians please correct me if I am wrong here). This thirteen-hour rock, paper, scissors tournament will be televised on FOX. It will also stream live on MLB.com. However, it will be subject to blackout restrictions so that nobody who lives on Earth can actually watch it. They can watch it on the moon. Special commercials will be sold to moon companies. There will be an entire sponsorship package. Stay tuned for details.