So you put it on the hogs or in the hogs?

It may sound like hogwash is meant to clean hogs, particularly right after castration. Most likely, though, the term was coined to describe a pig swill that was intended to feed our porcine friends. In the same way, we might get all up in arms about the hogwash in our national pastime, and yet we eat it up. This week in Google Baseball, we’ll tackle the dual meanings of this old-school word.

The true nature of the nuance in this word is not about feeding an appetite, though. It’s more about the cleanliness or legitimacy of the thing being described. Hogwash is ridiculous — because the word sounds laughable — and anything is therefore rendered silly by being paired with the adjective. Even when John Thorn says something serious about steroids, the use of the word brings a hint of a smile with it.

“This whole thing about McGwire simply permits sportswriters to imagine themselves to be Woodward and Bernstein, people who see themselves as guardians of a sacred portal, the last best hope for truth and justice – and it’s all hogwash and baloney.” – John Thorn, baseball historian

What do we find when we play Google Baseball with the word? We find the unwritten rules of baseball. Ridiculous! We find spray charts. Ludicrous! The derby jinx. Debunked! Weekly highlights of the Lehigh Valley IronPigs. Clever! Dirk Nowitzki as a pitcher? Clearly farcical. Most of these examples use the word to emphasize the absurdity of a thing.

Instead, how about Team Hogwash, a slow-pitch softball team giving up about 13 runs a game on average? Or an oyster topping called “Hog Wash” from Hog Island? Clearly these two entries into this week’s edition of Google Baseball are a step above. They show a sense of pride in the word, an enjoyment of the zany. They own it.

Clearly we’ve learned one thing from today’s game. If that thing wasn’t the true nature of the word, it was the best way to find nourishment from hogwash.

Embrace the hogwash.

I live-blogged Wednesday night’s thrashing of the Chicago White Sox by the New York Yankees for Canadian sports broadcasting titan The Score. It was good times: I discovered, and documented, Eric Chavez’s Comeback ‘Stache, and was reminded what an absolute bloody nightmare it is to watch Alex Rios play baseball.

In the third inning, the White Sox already down 10-1, Mark Teixeira sent a line-drive into center field. Rios, in oblivious, Rios-like, head case fashion, charged the ball. It went right by him, of course. (This is after Rios misplayed a Curtis Granderson fly ball in the first inning, too, letting it drop in front of him.) The photograph above is of Rios racing  all the way to the wall to retrieve the baseball he so badly misplayed. Not in a dead sprint, with his head down, oh no, but leisurely, Rios even looking back to see if Teixeira was trying to gallop all the way home for an inside the park job.

Teixeira didn’t, and ended up at third base. Somehow, Rios wasn’t charged with an error on the play. The box score’s play-by-play reads:

M. Teixeira tripled to shallow center, B. Gardner and D. Jeter scored.

Yeah, no. That was an error if I’d ever seen one. Even in a 10-1 game. Nobody “triples” to shallow center field. Frankly, I was surprised that Ozzie Guillen didn’t a) immediately pull Rios from the game, and b) drag Rios by the ear from center field to first base, and beat him with Adam Dunn. Ozzie needed a drink last night. In the worst way. Poor Ozzie.

Things Alex Rios is Thinking

Anyway: Rios. One of the South Side’s favorite suns. Our intrepid NotGraphs Investigative Reporting Investigation Team has confirmed, through telepathy I assume, the thoughts that were racing through Rios’ head, a lot faster than he was physically racing, as he “ran” down Teixeira’s “triple.”

1. Do I have to? I have to, don’t I?

2. Who gives a fuck?! (Editor’s note: He was actually singing  this.)

3. At least I’m hitting .200.

4. On the other hand, if Teixeira hits an inside the park home run, I’ll probably make the highlights.

5. They think Dunn hates baseball.

If you’re looking for more Rios bashing, the Chicago Tribune’s Steve Rosenbloom has you covered, with his aptly titled piece, “Bring me the head of Alex Rios.”

Image credit: Reuters, via daylife.

It is a widely accepted fact that Wikipedia is the pulse of all that is humanity. It provides a compendium of both the key elements of our history, as well as an archive of fun facts. However, many Wikipedia users are unaware of the secret underbelly of Wikipedia, the sacred texts of the history section.

Next time you are looking up the history of the crepe or the works of an American Poet, consider taking a gander at the history tab.

Inside the history section, one finds a deluge of deliberately confusing nerd code, but if you randomly click around for a little while, you may end up with dandy’s like this one from an old Todd Hollandsworth entry:
Read the rest of this entry »

The thrilling snake juice investigation concludes with the unbelievable Part 4! Click here for Part 1 or Part 2 or Part 3.

Dr. Supplies spun the van down Addison and slammed on the breaks in front of Wrigley. Justin Smoak, Eliezer Alfonzo, and Billy Beane all jumped out of the side door, running with their rifles at the ready. I took a swig from Eliezer’s snake juice and then followed them, dashing through the rain to the main entrance, where Smoak was unlocking the gate with a hand held device that looked like alien technology.

The gate flung open as the snake juice began to make my head began spin like a kid in an office chair.

“You’re going to feel a little nauseous,” Eliezer said, cocking his M4, “but you should be able to see the portal now.”

We stepped into the main concourse with our eyes down the barrels of our guns. The stadium was empty and dripping. My eyes began losing focus and I shook my head. Suddenly, like some desert-warped mirage, I saw a black figure — a shadow — moving towards us.

“Here they come!” Billy yelled as she began firing.
Read the rest of this entry »

Peruse MLB.com’s pitching probables section, reader, and you’ll notice that each scheduled pitcher receives a brief, paragraph-long review (much like you see for Houston’s Bud Norris above) regarding his recent performance, season in context, etc.

Peruse MLB.com’s pitching probables for this Wednesday, however, and you’ll be confronted merely by blank space under Charlie Morton’s name.

“What gives?” you’re probably thinking — which, that happens to be the very same question NotGraphs asked of Major League Baseball itself.

“We’re just effing bored of him,” responded MLB’s Head of Public Relations Tom Jenkins via email. “Seriously, we’ve tried to give a crap for, like, his last four or five starts, but now it’s just to where we told our intern, ‘We know how sad it makes you to write those profiles for Morton every fifth day. Probably just get some other work done instead.'”

When asked which other pitchers might receive similar treatment as the season wears on, Jenkins responded immediately with Jon Garland, adding “I don’t really even understand how he’s still a major-league pitcher. As effed up as that organization is, the very presence of Garland might be the most effed up part about it.”

Legal Note: Many of the facts and names in this piece are total fabrications.

Read now Part 2 of the exciting multi-part series: Secrets of Snake Juice Revealed! (For part one, go here.)

Eliezer turned the car down a narrow mountain pass, one where the trees eased in on the right and shear cliff awaited us on the left. He navigated the treacherous dirt road masterfully while Dr. Supplies produced his cell phone and began showing me pictures.

“Human beings are largely comprised of energy,” he said. “Electrical energy zat can leave residues in zis world.”

He showed me a picture of short, blurry silhouette in an empty room. It looked like a black fur coat hanging on a low coat rack, but somehow out of focus and in focus at the same time. The doctor clicked on the cell phone and showed three more similar photos as the car sped up the side of Cerro Vidoño in a plume of dust and clay.
Read the rest of this entry »

The good Mr. Eno Sarris presented just this last week shocking revelations concerning everyone’s favorite journeyman backup’s backup catcher, Eliezer Alfonzo. Sarris revealed to NotGraphers that Mr. Alfonzo apparently possesses some manner of mysterious tincture in which a deceased snake resides.

Here is its representation in a certain scholarly journal to which I subscribe:

To be honest, though, I did not sate my interests with the information from Eno or the aforementioned journal article, so I felt inspired to dig a little deeper. Here is what happened:
Read the rest of this entry »

Jobu’s power-ade.

Eliezer Alfonzo was 32 and had 545 major league plate appearances stretched across six seasons. So far he’d been the perennial third catcher for the Giants, Padres and Mariners. Then last year he put up a ‘solid’ 1.166 OPS in 71 Triple-A games and everything was going right for once. He might just have had a performance-enhacing liquid to thank for his most recent call-up.

Snake juice.

All those years in all those parks, and Alfonzo has developed quite the pre-game ritual. Once he settles down just a little from his usual loud and jovial self, Alfonzo begins his preparation for action. Pull on the uniform, one step at a time. Pull on the cleats. Check the catching gear. Once the sliding shorts are up to the armpits, there’s one last thing before he heads out of the locker room.

That’s when Alfonso pulls out his glass bottle with semi-clear liquid. Floating near the bottom is a large dead snake. Not a garter snake. Not a worm. An impressively large, very dead snake.

“Snake Juice time!” he declares to the room whether or not they care. This time, a staffer nearly vomits. Justin Smoak spits “that’s f*ing gross” into his glove. No-one moves closer. No-one wants a taste. A few people hold their noses, literally.

But Eliezer Alfonso is not fazed, and his smile does not fade. A few strong swigs of the potion and one more proclamation — “Ahhhh, Snake Juice gives me power!” Then the journeyman heads out the door.

Ready to be ready to catch.

Thanks to Ryan Divish for providing the insight and clubhouse access for this report.

Internet denizen Pat Andriola has brought to the world’s attention this actually official document, which reveals that R.A. Dickey was, in fact, the recipient of no less than one vote for New York’s most recent gubernatorial election.

While members of our crack Investigative Reporting Investigation Team have been unable to learn the identity of Dickey’s supporter, they (i.e. said Team) have discovered that it was, indeed, American filmmaker Woody Allen who voted for The Void.

As America’s Kid Brother Jackie Moore brought to our attention yesterday in a piece on the latter’s (unwitting) walk-off double, Nyjer Morgan is the sort of man prone to losing his mind.

Some due diligence courtesy of our Investigative Reporting Investigation Team reveals another curiosity from the giant, hypothetical file folder marked “All Things Nyjer Morgan” — namely, some kind of excerpt from a real or not real music video featuring Tony Plush himself.

Regard:

Your eyes do not deceive you, reader: that’s footage of Morgan doing the robot while wearing a silver Elvis wig, set to a song that sounds a lot like “I’m Not a Player” by deceased rapper Big Pun — except for, instead of Big Pun, it’s actually Nyjer Morgan revealing the truth about his nom de champ.

There are answers to the questions you’re asking, reader. Assuredly. Whether they exist in this, or an alternate, reality is a thing we can’t say with any certainty, however.