A search at lucky-best Baseball-Reference turns up this meadow of delights …

I have hopes on this day. Chief among them is that “Abner Deatherage” (the lilac hue of his Information Hot Link betrays my curiosity) is not, as the lamewad rationalist within suspects, pronounced “Abner DEATH-ur-ehj.” Instead, the Walter Mitty star-gazer part of me — which I keep buried in my tattered and smelly idiot’s shoe (I own but a single shoe) — hopes that this fine man’s name is pronounced “ABNER DEATH-RAGE” — every syllable accented because every syllable will wreck that shit.

It simply must be.

It simply must be.

In my quest for some precious drop of value in the desert of meaning that is the postgame interview, I will use every tool at my disposal. Including the stupid pun. And the cheap audio effect.

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In his important work on the nature of play, Man, Play, and Games, late French sociologist Roger Caillois argues that, in those societies where simulation and disguise are utilized, they are often done so as a means to ecstasy of some sort.

This footage of left-handed reliever and newish New York Met Tim Byrdak dressed as wrestler Hulk Hogan does little to dispel that notion — on account of all the ecstasy present in it, I mean.

Video courtesy Matthew Cerrone of MetsBlog. Brought to the author’s attention by noted Hulkamaniac Mike Axisa.

The Internetting Gentleman conducts a search …

The Internetting Gentleman unearths a notable search result …

The Internet is: ON.

Today’s billet-doux pairs for us, the made-love-to readers, base-and-ball squads with representative cans and bottles of wholesome, nutritious alcohol. In some cases (pun!), of course, there’s room for Lincoln-Douglas debate as to the fitness of the union, but an abundance of right-wise American vigor is found in the effort. Please click and admire both girth and artifice:

It is pleasing to me, the Bonapartist scribe, that my preferred team, Cardinaux de Saint-Louis, is paired with my preferred existential lubricant, the stout.

In the end, though, this changes nothing …

Once upon I time, in these very pages, I posted an RBI Baseball recreation of Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. This would be a very Internetty occasion to link back to that post, but I don’t feel like searching for it. Apropos of this, this way comes an electric rendering of the famous home run by Kirk Gibson, one of our most hilarious MVPs, in Game 1 of the 1988 World Series.

What follows is a thing that delights. What follows is a Thing That Contains Multitudes:

The highlight, you may have noticed, is not the home run itself, but rather what occurs at 8:16, when Gibson, in the words of Vin Scully, makes his leg “quiver like a horse trying to get rid of a troublesome fly.”

The simile, it inspires …

Dear Leaguemates,

As you all know, our fantasy baseball experience this past season was, well, less than ideal. After the death of two of our owners in separate trade-related incidents, I think it’s time we rethink some of our rules. Obviously adding a new provision prohibiting the killing of fellow league members in trade-related circumstances is a no-brainer, but I think we need to go even further than that. To that end, I’m proposing a series of reforms:

(1) The job of commissioner– as Joe’s devastating illness so vividly taught us– is too big a job for one person. I propose one commissioner for rules, one commissioner for transactions, one commissioner solely in charge of mediating e-mail based disputes, one commissioner responsible for mediating in-person disputes, one commissioner tasked with resolving disputes among the other commissioners, one commissioner overseer, one commissioner who just needs to hold onto the checks and not spend everyone’s money (and it won’t be you, Joe– no matter what your medical insurance premiums cost now), and one commissioner in charge of spelling. For the last time, one of them is Zimmerman, and one of them is Zimmermann. And if anyone screws it up again, you’re going to be the next one dead.

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Over the past several weeks, we’ve received a half-dozen or so unsolicited requests from Shannon Barnett, creator of careersincriminaljustice.net (which I’m not going to link to, as I value the security of your computers almost as much as you do), which “serves as a great resource for new students looking to find all the info they need on getting an online Criminal Justice Degree.”  She would very much be interested in doing a guestpost on FanGraphs.

Obviously, she would be a great fit.  That goes without saying.  But Sharon didn’t provide much direction.  She would “be happy to write an article about any topic that you would like.  It will only be used on your website….I would certainly appreciate any opportunity to write an article. Feel free to suggest an idea, or if you prefer I can just come up with one.”

We wouldn’t want Shannon to have to put any additional thought into her piece, so it’s with great enthusiasm that I suggest the following topics for her.  Also, feel free to suggest your own in the comments.  Perhaps this can set up more democracy in the future, as we collectively decide what topic careers in criminal justice expert Shannon Barnett is best equipped to contribute on here at the *Graphs family.

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We have long known that R.A. Dickey and The Marshall Tucker Band occupy an almost identical space in the public imagination, yet few — if any — attempts have been made to make their similarities clear.

Let NotGraphs handles this bidness.

1. They are both going to climb the highest mountain. (Or, at least, highest-ish.)

2. In both cases, women appear to be the impetus for the climbing of said mountain.

3. They both have their names emblazoned in gold thread on the ass pocket of their respective dungaree pants.

Fin.

Howdy, folks. It’s that time of year again, when the BWABBA entrusts me to be one of the proud voters for the Baseball Hall o’ Fame. The ballot instructions are clear: “Voting shall be based upon the player’s record, playing ability, integrity, sportsmanship, character, and contributions to the team(s) on which the player played.” Some voters like to assign numbers to each of those categories and do some sort of math thing. Even if I knew how to use a calculator, which I don’t, I don’t think you can decide the value of anything based on a number. That would be like going into a restaurant and choosing your meal based on the price. I don’t want to know what food costs. I just want to eat it. That, my friends, is a J.G. Taylor Spunk Award-winning analogy, which is why I know I’m in line to make it into that Hall one day for my writin’ ablilities. The Spunk Award will one day be mine. Where were we now? Oh, yes, the ballot. Here we go.

A lot of talk this year about BARRY LARKIN. I don’t really understand it. Did he bat .300? Nope. Career .295. I don’t want to dilute my hall with people who couldn’t get a hit at least 300 out of every… wait, how do we do the batting average again? 300 hits out of every 100 times at bat. Yeah, that sounds right. So, .295, which is like 500 fewer hits every season… I say no. Besides, he didn’t even come close to that magic number of 300 wins. He had, um, I think it’s zero. So, it’s a no. Although I will revisit next year if we find out he did drugs or something. That might explain the shortfall and give me a reason to vote for him.

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