Archive for Actual Thing

We’re always trying to search for meaning here, even (especially?) among the Joe West ejections and hot GIF action posts. So when we hit this next picture from a Mets game, it was clear that the search must continue. Why? Why?

Can you spot the second meme?

Well, so, yeah. Why? I mean we can find the original Banaphone song by Raffi and there’s little that seems to predict the explosion of an internet meme. The word ‘ring’ might make up half of the lyrics, and the topics, yeah he sings for children:

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Our appreciation of baseball history is inextricably linked to statistics. While some may attempt to deny the centrality of the quantifiable in baseball, these people would be lying if they said that they don’t remember players like Joe DiMaggio, Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, Lou Gehrig, Willie Mays, and Hank Aaron for their respective statistical achievements. Indeed, the fundamental reason we remember players like Cy Young and forget players like Cy Morgan is the former’s statistical achievements and the latter’s lack thereof. True, some statistics are more useful than others for discerning how productive a player truly is, but generally speaking, “traditional statistics” do a decent job of highlighting the players that are worth remembering. And the great thing is that all of this information is only a quick internet search away.

Unfortunately, though, not all professional baseball players throughout history have the benefit of a lasting, easily accessible record of their on-field accomplishments. In particular, I am speaking of the Negro Leagues. We know they were great assemblages of talent, and to some, the exclusion of black players from the Major Leagues acted as a sort of “performance enhancing drug” to the game’s “Great White Legends.” But the woefully inadequate statistical record of Negro League play means that for the last century or so, we have been deprived of a richer understanding of it and the history of baseball in general. Although we may each know at most a handful of Negro Leaguers, for the most part we don’t really know what they did (let alone what they did relative to their contemporaries).

I am happy to say that someone is finally here to fill this historical lacuna. Today, the fine folks at Seamheads.com have launched their Negro Leagues Database, which begins the arduous task of compiling the long-lost statistical records and biographical information of Negro Leaguers — rescuing them from the dustbin of history to which they have hitherto been relegated.

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Jeff Francoeur throws out Michael Taylor at first base from right field.

Your second major league hit was denied by getting thrown out by the right fielder. Yea… that sucks. I bet he remembers that one for a while. At least it wasn’t going to be his first major league hit.

For those of us who prefer altered states of consciousness, in which awesome things are even more awesome and awful things are not half-bad at the moment, to soulless arbitraging, today is a good day …

It’s the best rivalry in media softball: the notorious potsmokers vs. the financial power brokers. High Times swept the season series with Wall St. Journal Thursday, eking out victory in the 11th inning and making themselves favorites in the upcoming NYMSL playoffs.

The resin at the bottom of the bowl — now that’s my kind of derivative! Amiright?!

Jung Bong!

Matt Holliday — Handsome Matt Holliday — was forced to depart the Cardinals’ most recent dumb-ass loss because of … a moth in his ear.

Mr. Holliday was visibly distressed by having a moth in his ear, which is quite understandable. Had this been yours truly, I would’ve burst into tears, run screaming in growing concentric circles, and searched desperately for the nearest blunt object, firearm or sharpened rapier that would help me over-murder myself. Mr. Holliday was decidedly more composed, which should surprise no one. In fact, the most excellent Derrick Goold provides the pleasing conclusion to our tale:

Holliday was not available for comment after the game, and the team official was not sure if Holliday would see a doctor or a specialist to determine if the moth did any damage while wedged inside his ear. The moth was still alive when they removed it from the left fielder’s ear. Holliday was said to be feeling fine when he left the ballpark.

He took the moth with him.

He took the moth with him! A lesser man would probably take the moth with him for purposes of grim revenge. However, Mr. Holliday, moth whisperer that he is, surely took the adorable moth home to the kids. On the sprawling yet eco-friendly Holliday estate the moth, whose name is now Princess Sugar Pickles, will live a life of frolicsome delights, one marked by a permanent spot at the foot of the bed, frequent trips to the moth park and scrumptious, fair-trade moth treats on demand.

One day, the Holliday children will be told that Princess Sugar Pickles had to go to a farm in the country. This will mean that Princess Sugar Pickles has died.

First, click to embiggen and then regard and drink deeply of …

I’ve checked with the jurisdictional authorities, and you are permitted to choose one of these ladies for an evening of Chablis, board games and necking. And remember that a gentleman never does two things: use “party” as a verb or discuss the clap.

I choose them all.

Dude I’ve got great tickets for the game tonight.
Sweet! When are you picking me up.
Well, uh…
Dude. You are NOT bringing Nick. He doesn’t even like baseball.
Yeah, well, you like it a little much.
Whatever. What time are you picking me up.
I was thinking about asking Jen.
She’ll hate you for it.
Fine. I’ll get you at six. Be out front.
Thanks dude. You won’t regret it.
I already do.
…
Look, I can see the pitches man. Right down the pipe.
What are you taking out of your – No. Put that away.
Steeerike one.

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I am a Cardinals fan. Our own Jack Moore is a Brewers fan. These are well and good facts and signifiers of a healthy Republic. Still, these allegiances have put us at cross purposes this season, despite the NotGraphs ties — sexy, buckled latex ties — that bind.

Generalissimo Cistulli is fond of calling Mr. Moore “America’s Kid Brother,” but of late I sense a darker side to Jackie Hazelnuts — a side that will be laid bare by the following exchange of Twitter Tweets. I present this unfortunate brannigan with a touch of formality that will call to mind either an Ionesco playscript or Atticus Finch cross-examination of titillating righteousness …

@daynperry Does anyone really doubt that the Brewers will win tonight?

@jh_moore Suck it, Perry. RT @daynperry: Does anyone really doubt that the Brewers will win tonight?

@daynperry @jh_moore I vaguely compliment your team’s hot streak, and that’s the thanks I get?

@jh_moore @daynperry Apparently.

@daynperry @jh_moore You just cost the Brewers the vastly more lucrative People’s Championship.

@jh_moore @daynperry I thought Nyjer Morgan did that a long time ago.

If you know nothing else about our traffic-contriving strategies here at NotGraphs, please know that a Call-to-Action Poll is forthcoming forthwith …

This guy is sitting on my desk back home in Madison. He is lonely. You can tell by his face.

So I’ve taken to the internet to find him some company. Let’s swim through the sea of bobbleheads available on the grand old internet!

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Faithful NotGraphs reader P. Agnello brought this little dandy to our attention:

Why yes, that would be real Americans digging through real trash for a real foul ball and then getting into a real fight for said Trash Ball.

After the frenzied waste-search led to a frenzied trash fight, ballpark security had to intervene. According the intrepid Todd Kalas: “Bad behavior; nobody gets the prize.”

Leave it to TK to use a semicolon in speech. Well, nonetheless, that real foul ball became real trash in a slightly askew retelling of Solomon’s Judgement, a retelling in which neither mother relents and the baseball ends up in Sheol.

Oddly enough, this may not be the most epic dumpster dive in baseball history.
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