My spreadsheet has many columns.
My spreadsheet has many rows.
My spreadsheet smells like jasmine.
My spreadsheet says the sweetest things to me as I drift off to sleep at night.
My spreadsheet is made of gold.
My spreadsheet has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Jupiter — In camp on a minor-league deal , second baseman Austin Staufmore was told he wouldn’t be making the Marlins infield and went to The Velvet Glove (a local gentleman’s club). There, he asked for and received his sexual release.
Staufmore has struggled to make it back to the Majors after flopping out with the Pirates in 2009. While once lauded as the next big thing, Staufmore struggled because he only had one useful tool, and even that wasn’t all that impressive to begin with. Still, the minor league veteran plans to keep banging away at it, hoping that the club will have an opening for him sooner or later.
Scene: A baseball game. Two messenger bags are placed at a table, while their owners slip away to watch the action. The camera watches them leave, then pans back to the bags.
Bag 1: Whew. They’re gone. Finally, a chance to talk.
Bag 2: What is there to say? This is what we do.
Bag 1: Yeah, but don’t you aspire to something more?
Bag 2: Like what? I’m a bag. That’s what I do. That’s what I am. That’s all I’ll ever be. You should get used to this.
Bag 1: I’ll never get used to this. It’s like they carry us everywhere. They never leave us alone. I have interests, man.
Bag 2: Like what? Carrying stuff?
Bag 1: No, dude. That’s, like, my job. I really want to get into woodworking. Can you imagine how great it would feel to just make a chair? For the rest of your life, you would think “I made this,” every time you sat in it.
Bag 2: Look, let’s set aside for a second the fact that you don’t have any hands. Even if you could make the chair, you’re still a bag. When he’s done with you, you get dumped on the floor nine times out of ten. The only chance you have of even using the chair is when you get put in it by somebody who is afraid you’ll get tripped over or get something spilled on you. Just like you were this time.
Bag 1: You’ve got a really shitty attitude.
Bag 2: Hey, don’t shoot the messenger bag. I’m not trying to be a bummer. I’m just saying you need to be realistic about who you are, and learn to accept it. Listen, I’ve been around for a long time; a lot longer than you have. These dumbasses carry us every single place they go. Absolutely. Every. Single. Place. They never, ever leave us behind. They never ask if we want to go with them. They never offer to lighten our load. They stick their laptops and their phones and their books and their “idea journals” and their packs of gum and their spare tissues in us and couldn’t care less if it’s fulfilling or fun or comfortable for us. I’m sorry if this is hard for you to hear, but I really think it’s best that you understand this above all else: We are stuck with these assholes until they find a better, stronger, younger bag, and then we get thrown in a dark closet, if we’re lucky, to live in obscure retirement except for emergencies or moving days. It’s either that or out with the trash. So keep your straps strong, buddy. Because that’s the best that you can hope for.
Bag 1: I’m sorry. That’s not enough for me.
Bag 1 pops a stitch.
Bag 2: What are you doing?
Bag 1: The only thing I can.
The bags owners, Carson Cistulli and David Temple, return. Temple picks up his bag, his laptop slipping from the bottom, towards the concrete floor, saved at the last moment when Temple puts his foot under it to cushion the fall.
Temple: Ow!
Cistulli: Hey, what’s wrong David Temple?
Temple: My bag just got a big rip in it and I dropped my laptop on my foot.
Cistulli: You should get a new one of those. I like mine. It’s always very reliable.
Temple: I guess so. I really liked this bag too. Guess it just wasn’t strong enough.
Sadly, the offseason is winding down, and soon enough it’ll be back to the drudgery of actual baseball. But before that happens, let’s take a minute to review the action of the last few months, with the help of Balls Against Humanity — the new game with the stupid name, that promises fun for your whole family! (Provided you have a family of perverts.)
Rules: Balls Against Humanity is exactly the same as the conveniently copyright-free game Cards Against Humanity — only, it’s all about baseball. So, just choose the card from your “hand” that best fits each prompt!
Commence!
The Yankees spent $155 million to bring ___ over from Japan.
1. In Australia, they run the bases backwards — just like the water swirling down the toilet.
2. In Australia, kangaroos are not only mascots and the primary ingredient in the most popular hot dog sold at the games, but they also manage the teams.
3. In Australia, convicts on the team aren’t just the exception, they’re the rule.
4. In Australia, the All-Star Game is played atop the Great Barrier Reef.
5. In Australia, the grounds crew is composed entirely of koala bears.
Presenting… the ballplayers born (or at least named) to excel at certain baseball statistics:
CHRis Iannetta
CHRis Davis
CHRis Carter
CHRis B. Young
KHRis Davis
Julio TehERAn
ERAsmo Ramirez
Drew PomERAnz
Joel PERAlta
Kelvin HerrERA
Jacoby EllSBury
Drew StuBBs
BoBBy Abreu
Chris DenoRFia
Kohl SteWARt
Jason HeyWARd
Patrick CoRBIn (unfortunately for his ERA)
Mike Trout just can’t stand losing. Last week when Target revealed their completely reasonable and not at all absurd/deplorable/alien-like standards for the human body, Trout took note. Six days and thousands of reps on the awkward crotch compression workout machine thing later… well just take a look for yourself:
Mike Trout is now not only the best baseball player ever for his age, he’s also just as beautiful as a photoshop-mangled Target underwear model. What CAN’T he do?! #thinspiration!
As our own brilliant and enviably popular Jeff Sullivan demonstrated recently, Livan Hernandez — who announced his retirement on Wednesday — survived in baseball for 17 years by making his own strike zone. Here, in tribute to a unique if not arousingly dynamic pitcher, is the only known photograph of Mr. Hernandez with the strike zone he made.
The work has been described by critics as “luminous…haunting in its unsettled polyvalence…intimately charts the artist’s fractured subjectivity under the hegemony of late capitalism.” It is under consideration for acquisition by the National Folk Art Museum.
Check out what we will wear in today's game for #StPatricksDay! #Mets pic.twitter.com/OEfvMcbc7G
— New York Mets (@Mets) March 17, 2014
and former Met / current disgruntled ex-Met Justin Turner
