I was having a bit of trouble with my PlayStation 4 last night. This prohibited me from playing MLB 14: The Show, a shame since my created pitcher — Pedro Pedroia — was using his 2-seamer/cutter/splitter combo to mow down AAA batters and was on the verge of a promotion. My wife is out of town so I was doing what most men do when the wife is out of town, eating shitty food and staying up too late. I mention this only to point out the fact that the PlayStation Super Help Now Hotline was closed at this hour, and I had to relegate myself to the PlayStation Type, Wait,  Repeat Online Chat Coldline. It took over an hour, and a lot of repeating of information, but Carlos V. was finally able to get my issue fixed.

During this process, I got to thinking. Almost everyone has someone who is their go-to person for technical issues. Maybe it’s a friend or sibling or coworker, but there’s a person who is just a quick text or email away to help with a laptop, phone, or gaming console. Those who don’t have a go-to are the go-to for everyone they know, damned to an eternity of free labor solely due to the fact that they can work a computer.

Do baseball teams have this? Certainly, every team employs a myriad of tech professionals, but I’m talking about the 25-man roster. Is there a guy in every clubhouse that gets bombarded with questions about iPads and smartphones and Xboxs? Who is Tech Support by day, baseballer by night?

I turn to you, dear NotGraphs reader, for suggestions. Which player seems to best fit the name Tech Support? While this type of exercise is usually an open forum, I do have one stipulation:

YOU CAN’T SAY ERIC SOGARD

That’s not even trying. Use your mind grapes. You can do this.

The nomination process, which was as close to blatantly stealing from one Dayn Perry as I dare get, for he is from Mississippi, probably owns several firearms, and has booby-trapped his house, is now complete. So now comes the part which I both love and fear, the exercise of your franchise. Love, because I enjoy seeing how the teeming, grubby masses abuse the great freedom of the vote that they were mistakenly given, and fear because the results always represent a stumble downward, away from the perfect Eden which the One True God, Mike Trout, wants for us.

And so, it is with trepidation and titillation that I present to you your opportunity to decide which ballplayer, because of his ubiquity and transformative ability, once and forever more,, shall be called “Big Data” behind his back (for who among us is likely to have the prairie oysters to say it to his face?).

[polldaddy poll=”7942725″]

Thank you for proving the Founding Fathers wrong.

What we are doing is blatantly ripping off Dayn Perry, occasional contributor to NotGraphs; regular contributor to CBSSports.com, the home for all baseball; and constant contributor to the moral deterioration of The Republic; by assigning cool nicknames to players rather than perpetuate the tired lamewad practice of assigning cool players nicknames. Since Dayn has seen fit to abandon us in our hour of need, we will usurp his nickname creation and application authority and render it back unto the people, so that they can ruin it through the democratic process, like they ruin everything else.

Last time out, perpetual disappointment David Temple tried, and seemingly failed, to determine who should earn the nickname “White Sangria.” As no consensus was either sought nor reached, this remains the Hall of Honour, which Dayn (because he’s an asshole who puts on airs) believes is “so stately, so regal, so much itself a celebration of the Norman Conquest, that an extra British-English unstressed ‘u’ is required for proper spelling…” Read the rest of this entry »

If you heard rumors of a recent gathering of FanGraphs writers in Arizona, I’m here to confirm those rumors. And when FanGraphs writers come to a town, they run that town. This is not to say they run in that town, as physical activity is not usually on the itinerary. But they do live life to the fullest, if that only entails going to Spring Training games and restaurants.

One such restaurant, the very fancy Chelsea’s Kitchen, specialized in a certain drink called white sangria. This is fulfilling to two ways:

1. It is extremely delicious.
2. It gives all of us a chance to pair a nickname with a player.

So, I turn to you, fair NotGraphs readers. What player deserves the nickname White Sangria?

What we are doing is assigning cool nicknames to players rather than the opposite, which is a bloodless tradition that has been with us too much and too long.

So how does this running feature differ from the dear, departed exemplar of the genre? “Nickname Seeks Player” was devoted to active base-ball-ists, while “Nickname Seeks Former Player” is the province of those who no longer play this fine game because they are dead in spirit and perhaps also dead in the corporeal sense. Boileryard Clarke? Eligible! Sal Maglie? Eligible! Fred Lynn? Eligible! Dontrelle Willis? Eligible! Dave Parker? For the ladies!

You may surmise from this that almost the entire sprawl of baseball history lies before you, like a sexy patient etherized upon a table. So prepare yourself to plumb both depths and heights as we ponder fitting candidates for this week’s name to nicked: “You Shall Die From It Or With It”!

Before we proceed, though, let us remember those who have previously survived this crucible of sturdy ghosts. Last time out, John Rocker and Curt Schilling tied in the balloting for “I Denounce This Man.” I broke said tie by voting for Rocker because who gives a shit. So John Rocker and his World Net Daily columns shall forever be known as such.

So now let us — snifters in hand, cardigans beswaddling our mortal parts — gaze upon The Fireside Mantel of Reposed Fortune-Hunters:

“Museum of Questionable Medical Devices” – Ted Williams
“A Garbage Truck That Runs on Lightning” – Matt Stairs
“Colonel Sanders’s Drinking Buddy” – Charlie Manuel
“America’s Step-Dad” – John Olerud
“Man vs. Bible” – Carl Everett
“Actual, Literal Brick Shithouse” – John Kruk
“I Denounce This Man” – John Rocker

And now … “You Shall Die From It Or With It”!

Implications and Intimations

While driving around the streets of Chicago U.S.A. in my luxury motorcar, I heard a radio interview with a gentleman who helms an association dedicated to the eradication of an awful disease that shall remain nameless. He said of that disease and those it afflicts: “You either die from it or with it.”

This raised a necessary question: Which former ballplayer do you die from or, failing that, die with before you can die from? Please note that this phenomenon — dying from an incurable someone or dying with an incurable someone before that incurable someone can snuff you out — can absolutely be a good thing. “Look at him play baseball. The beauty of it,” you might say. “I want him to be the cause of my extinction.”

Or it can be because he is a baseball disease to which you succumb while in hospice or from which you will be spared only in the event that a thief shoots you in the lungs or I cut you down with my luxury motorcar.

So who, citizens of sufficient origins, should be nicknamed “You Shall Die With It Or From It”?

The nomination process, which was a thicket of sexy possibilities, is now complete. In accordance with established standards, empaneled racists have whittled the list down to a manageable ledger of 10, from which you are to choose the one most worthy of the nickname “Iago’s Balls.” Remember: This player is not only evil, like Iago, but also foul-smelling, like Iago’s hairy giggle-beans.

So, those who quarter soldiers in peacetime, you may now cast ballots on who — or what! — should forevermore be nicknamed “Iago’s Balls” …

Thank you for exercising the franchise.

What we have done is assign cool nicknames to players rather than perpetuate the tired, lamewad practice of assigning cool players nicknames. This is the last time we shall do this. Why, multitudes ask? Because we shall soon introduce a new, equally insipid series called “Nickname Seeks Former Player.”

First, though, another glance at our Hall of Honouur, which is so stately, so regal, so much itself a celebration of the Norman Conquest, that an extra British-English unstressed “u” is required for proper spelling …

Read the rest of this entry »

What we have been doing is assigning cool nicknames to players rather than perpetuating the tired, lamewad practice of assigning cool players nicknames. We will soon stop doing this because all things — even things like this which are hopelessly played out and have been driven remorselessly into the ground — must come to an end. But not before one last dance, my love!

First, though, another glance at our Hall of Honouur, which is so stately, so regal, so much itself a celebration of the Norman Conquest, that an extra British-English unstressed “u” is required for proper spelling …

Read the rest of this entry »

The nomination process, which requires a credit card number for automatic renewal, is complete. But, lo, there is news!: The Iron Council of Patriots Speckled with the Blood of Quislings has ruled that, in this instance, an entire team is eligible for the nickname in question, which is “50 Free Quality Sales Leads.” So you are encouraged to vote your conscience, so long as your conscience is right-wise and informed by sanctioned holy texts.

So, land-owning Episcopalian citizens, you may now cast ballots on who — or what! — should forevermore be nicknamed “50 Free Quality Sales Leads” …

Thank you for exercising the franchise.

What we do is assign cool nicknames to players rather than perpetuate the tired, lamewad practice of assigning cool players nicknames. Last time out, Jamie Moyer narrowly out-napped Jim Thome for the nickname “Opening Day” and celebrated by surveying his lawn from a comfy chair. So Mr. Moyer has been added to our Hall of Honouur, which is so stately, so regal, so much itself a celebration of the Norman Conquest, that an extra British-English unstressed “u” is required for proper spelling …

Read the rest of this entry »