Up here in Canada, we’re still grappling with the tough questions: Why? Why, after their Canucks lost game seven, did those laid back Vancouverites decide to show the folks in Montreal how it’s really done? What is it about hockey that makes the average, beer-drinking, eh-saying Canadian lose, well, his or her shit?

We’ll likely never know.

But that’s hardly the point. The point is: NotGraphs Investigative Reporting Investigation Team correspondent Steve, whose last name we have concealed in order to protect his identity, captured the footage above from Wednesday night. Below is his report:

After he finished making the calls at third base between the Angels and Mariners on Wednesday night, the Great Ejector took his talents where they were badly needed. He caught the Cascade up to Canada and used his immaculate talents for the greater good, clearing the hooligans and ruffians from the streets alongside Vancouver’s finest. However, it is unclear to this day if Mr. West is ejecting the defeated Canucks fan or the officer who dared sully the good name of the Vancouver P.D. by carrying his riot gear upside down.

I know; Steve does great work. Much like Joe West.

Seriously. Thanks, Steve.

NBC Universal’s “The More You Know” star doesn’t toss itself, you know.

Big ups: Shockingly enough, to NBC Universal. And Joe West. Always Joe West.

Where I imagine The Great Ejector practices his form, in uniform, every morning.

Image credit, and my inspiration: Daily Dose of Imagery.

Joe West will meet you — and toss you — any time, any place, boy.

Original image credit: Daily Dose of Imagery.

Thursday night in Detroit, Miguel Olivo struck out four times, and took home the dishonourable Golden Sombrero. While batting cleanup! I know, and, unfortunately, no, I can’t tell you why Olivo was batting fourth. But about last night: Verlander and Valverde, yo. They’ll do that to a brother.

Upon learning of Olivo’s fate, I wondered: Why a Golden Sombrero? What in the hell does that have to do with striking out four times in a baseball game? I got my Google on. And the answer, as is usually the case, was pretty simple, and, well, makes sense. Witness:

The term derives from hat trick and since four is bigger than three (Editor’s note: Mathematics are a beautiful thing.) the rationale was that a four-strikeout performance should be referred to by a bigger hat, such as a sombrero. The “Olympic Rings” or platinum sombrero applies to a player striking out five times in a game, while a horn (after Sam Horn of the Baltimore Orioles, who accomplished the feat in an extra-inning game in 1991) or titanium sombrero is bestowed upon a player who strikes out six times in a single game.

Your source: Wikipedia. In all its reverence, of course.

Like I said, makes sense. And, now, what I want to actually, physically see, and perhaps even try on, is a Titanium Sombrero. I imagine it’s as funky as it sounds.

As for the Golden Sombrero, there’s a website devoted to its cause. Aptly titled, too: The Golden Sombrero. By their count, Miguel Olivo is the 38th player to be crowned in 2011.

Yet the most important questions remain: Why, and since when, and why, is Miguel Olivo batting cleanup?

Image credit: The Internet

There are numerous reasons why I’ve chosen to post the video below:

1) Even though it’s from last season, the walk-off celebration you’re about to witness is most awesome. One Kendrys Morales, who’s been in my thoughts recently, would certainly approve of.

2) Charming NotGraphs commenter Bronnt brought said walk-off celebration to my attention, and I’d like him to know how much I appreciated him doing so.

3) As Chairman Cistulli pointed out in these very pages, MLB.com videos are now embed-able! It’s a brilliant day to be alive.

I feel for T.C. Bear. I really do. He’s lived a charmed life since he came into this world, back in the spring of 2000, when he became the mascot of the Minnesota Twins. Six division titles in 11 seasons. Sure, they’re American League Central titles, but T.C. Bear is young, and innocent; he doesn’t know any better. And, quite frankly, he needn’t be involved in baseball’s divisional politics. He’s just a bear, goddamnit.

T.C. Bear was a baby, a mere cub, the last time the Twins called the AL Central’s basement home. He’s too young to remember the tough times. And now, faced with adversity, the burden of two cities on his shoulders, T.C. Bear wants to throw in the towel. And who can blame him? The Twins are 17-35. They’ve allowed 90 more runs than they’ve scored. Jose Bautista is worth more WAR — 2.2 WAR, to be exact — than the entire Minnesota “offense.” Joe Mauer is weeks away from returning.

T.C. Bear was found this morning literally digging his own grave. Because he never imagined a world where the Twins, a third of the season complete, would be five and a half games behind the Kansas City Royals.

T.C. Bear needs us. He needs our help. More than ever before. Thankfully, the soul that operates the Minnesota Twins Twitter account found him this morning, before it was too late. I’ve spoken to NotGraphs’ intrepid Investigative Reporting Investigation Team, and they confirmed the details of what turned out to be a most harrowing morning.

After talking T.C. Bear out of the hole he was digging, Twins operatives were unable to get him to drop the shovel. Agitated, T.C. Bear began to swing said shovel around, threatening those around him, and then himself, while repeatedly yelling, “Pitch to contact, Francisco! Pitch to contact!” Finally, T.C. Bear asked to speak with Joe Mauer, and Joe Mauer only. Saint that he is, Mauer drove directly to the scene. They had a heart-to-heart, T.C. Bear and Mauer, and then took a walk together. When they returned, Mauer was holding the shovel, and T.C. Bear Mauer’s hand.

“Well played, Mauer,” indeed.

When asked by our Investigative Reporting Investigation Team reporter who was going to fill his grave, T.C. Bear paused, then said, “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” He’s just so damn cute sometimes.

It is with much pleasure that I’m able to report that T.C. Bear is currently resting comfortably at Target Field. He’s going to get through this. One T.C. Bear lost is one T.C. Bear too many.

H/T: My man, @mighty_flynn. Do visit his Tumblr blog: It’s a long season.

Were he to see this photograph.

Would he look away, in frustration? Would he be upset? Would he laugh — which is all he can do, one would think — at his own incredible misfortune? Would he think of his struggle as being in vain?

I’m quite certain Morales didn’t leap as high as Jose Reyes, and definitely not as high as Angel Pagan, both captured above, that fateful night one year ago, May 29, 2010. As we all now know, Morales won’t be back until 2012. At the earliest. Maybe. (At least Morales went out after hitting a walk-off home run. A grand slam, no less. That’s what I keep reminding myself. Does that make it any easier, for Kendrys? Probably not. But, well, still.)

About that photo: when did the leaping celebration after winning a baseball game come in vogue? Who was the first to make it happen? It’s spread, now, all throughout baseball. Imagine Reyes had come down awkwardly on his leg, and suffered a serious injury. Imagine he’d been Moralesed. Goodbye, “Carl Crawford money.” Hello, again, Fred Wilpon, and you, too, Jeffrey Toobin.

I’ve watched Jose Bautista do it, too, air surfing in celebration with his fellow outfielders, Corey Patterson and Rajai Davis, on a regular basis. I can’t help but think of poor Kendrys Morales. Every time. His intentions were good. And I can’t help but be a tiny bit afraid. History only repeats itself.

Image credit: The Associated Press, via daylife.

The Tampa Bay Devil Rays. I hate ‘em. All the while knowing that I shouldn’t.

I have to, though. Hate, I mean. It’s in my contract as a proud supporter of the Toronto Blue Jays. When the team you root for hasn’t qualified for the postseason in, oh, almost 20 years, eventually all you’re left with is hatred for those teams in the American League East that do play baseball in October. I hate the New York Yankees. The Boston Red Sox, too. I ignore the Baltimore Orioles, bless their hearts. I used to be able to say the same about the Rays. I miss those days.

I didn’t think it was possible, but, after reading Jonah Keri’s The Extra 2%, my dislike for the Rays has actually increased. And that’s not to say Mr. Keri’s book wasn’t a great one. It was. I found it, most of all, readable; the type of book you start and finish on a four and a half-hour cross-country flight. I mean, from Tampa’s struggle to finally land a team, to all that losing, to the vision displayed in going against the grain in assembling an unconventional front office, which led to the exorcising of so many demons, and, finally, to their rise from worst to first. What’s not to love? And I didn’t even mention Joe Maddon. The unparalleled Joe Maddon, with his glasses, his love of vino, and, of course, “The Danks Theory,” which he repeatedly put to good use against Toronto, when Shaun Marcum was still a Blue Jay.

I’ve found plenty not to like, though. Ben Zobrist, to start with. I should appreciate the likes of Zobrist, a nomad on the diamond, who’s enjoying a 2009-like renaissance at the plate. But I can’t. And, no, I can’t explain why. Hatred is illogical; there’s no rhyme or reason. Then there’s David Price, and his 8-0 record and 1.99 ERA in nine career starts against Toronto. The Blue Jays bore David Price.

After much introspection, I’ve figured it out: I hate the Rays because they’ve become everything the Blue Jays haven’t. I like to think of myself as being self-aware, so I have to admit it: I’m jealous. The Rays have conquered baseball’s toughest division in a market much smaller than Toronto’s, with far fewer resources, in an even more inferior domed ballpark.

That’s why they’ll always be the Devil Rays to me.

Image courtesy Victoria Lucas.

The latest Great Moment in Spectacles comes to us via handsome NotGraphs reader Patrick D., who rightfully said, “Ron Kittle demands satisfaction.”

If Bob Hamelin’s Great Moment in Spectacles was, as I put it, “a heinous crime against baseball cards,” Kittle’s is the opposite. Donruss’ Diamond Kings series was the best, Jerry. The best!

Patrick also sent along this gem, via nerdbaseball.com:

True story: I always assumed that if I went to www.nerdbaseball.com, I’d simply be redirected to FanGraphs. You do in fact learn something new everyday.

Anyway, here’s Patrick with the final word:

Remember, certain parts of Ron Kittle’s face may be closer than they appear.

Gracias, Patrick.