When Endy Chávez was signed by the Texas Rangers in 2011, the Rangers had just become the parent team of Austin’s suburban Round Rock Express (taking over what had been a Houston Astros franchise). Although I was, as an Astros fan, disappointed that the closest ball club to be was now Rangers territory, I tried to make the best of it by getting extremely drunk with my friends at a game during the first week of their season. Endy Chávez was the token journeyman / former major leaguer toiling in the minors, and we briefly entertained the idea of becoming Endy super-fans, making handmade shirts and signs to support what had to have been a tough journey from Mets defensive superstar to bleak Texas suburbia.
Posed as a question, but of course, the answer can only be “yes.”
Tweeted by Matt Ufford.
Buck Showalter = every one of us.
Mark Reynolds = every pretty girl or boy that ever walked right past you, every song we never quite mastered on the guitar, every day that you accidentally wasted, every cake that never rose, every cat that never let you pet it, every needle that missed a vein, every beer you didn’t finish before last call, every movie you forgot to see in the theater, every ending that got spoiled before you were done, every party you heard about later, and every baseball game you didn’t watch that turned out to be history. You go, Mark. Good job.
Hi everyone! I have been on a little hiatus from most of my extra-curricular activities for the last month or so, because I have moved to New York City after having lived in Austin, Texas for pretty much my entire life. This move has been a huge adjustment for approximately 80,001 reasons, but one of those is that everyone (okay, well, a lot of people) here likes and cares about baseball! In Austin, where I saw a shoddily-constructed Rangers bandwagon rise over the last few years, only to see it abandoned without a thought once college football season begun, I had become used to wearing my Astros gear with nary a glance from the general populous. Here, it’s different. Here, people give me a hard time about that Astros gear, and rightfully so! The Astros are terrible. I LOVE THIS. There is not a single thing that makes me feel more like I’ve made a good decision than an old man in a Yankees jersey or a Mets cap ribbing me about my Astros sweater.
“Ironically,” David Price’s dog is named Astro.
I’ve always though Allan James Burnett looks like he should be working the overnight at the 7-11 by my house.
I’m sorry about your bracelets; we all love you very much.
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Daniel Straily has been called up, analyzed, gushed over, and well-wished. Now he has also been drawn in a manner attempting to channel my inner seventh-grader with a crush. Consider this his NotGraphs rookie card. Good luck out there, ginger face! We love you!
1. The best folk singer of my generation, Dan Bern, has released an 18-track album of baseball songs entitled “Doubleheader.” It is now available to preview and buy. His songs are about listening to Vin Scully on the road, Mickey Mantle’s tragic injuries, Jackie Robinson, Pete Rose and Bart Giamatti, Merkle’s boner, Gallarraga’s perfect game, and my personal favorite at the moment, the very straightforwardly-titled “The Year-By-Year Home Runs Totals of Barry Bonds.” The songs are loving and empathetic, and they are without pomp, circumstance, or cynicism.
2. Ben Gibbard of Death Cab For Cutie and The Postal Service has released a song he wrote several years ago for Ichiro Suzuki. The song was obviously written long before Ichiro started declining or was traded to the New York Yankees and it is an unabashed love song. The chorus goes “go go go go Ichiro!” and that part will probably be stuck in your head for a few days. It all sounds like a Beach Boys song if Brian Wilson was a hardcore lifetime Mariners fan singing about Ichiro Suzuki and breaking your heart when he mentions Dave Niehaus.
Addison And Subtraction
Lucas Sims Life
The Royal Tissenbaums
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I found this really cute picture of Matt Cain and his kid from the Home Run Derby. Sweet dreams, NotGraphers of my heart!
Last night at MCU Park, home of the Brooklyn Cyclones, Williamsburg hipsters were given their own evening to watch baseball ironically. There were food vouchers for anyone with a beard, and those wearing skinny jeans were promised a trip around the bases after the game (although apparently the latter didn’t happen, presumably because running the bases is way too earnest for hipsters). Reports on the event at NY Mag indicate mostly a lot of detached embarrassment at being labeled “hipster,” but it also included this Very Important Infographic regarding what actually qualifies as a beard. You can probably already guess which baseball player is representing True Beardness, but I believe that two of the three “not beard” examples qualify as controversial. See for yourself:
Who gets a beard voucher / NY Mag
What do you guys think? Is this a fair representation of True Beardness, or is it taking beard snobbery a step too far?