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Clicking around the Internet looking for something to post about can sometimes yield excellent results. Like this Facebook page:

Now, I’m just as opposed to sex trafficking as anyone else, but what the heck does this have to do with baseball? No worries, CBS News has the scoop.

“Well, both of our cities are obviously very passionate about our baseball teams so we set up a challenge with St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral in Boston,” Rev. Mike Kinman of Christ Church said.

Oh, okay, now it all makes sense.

“And then to make it a little more interesting, the losing team’s Cathedral Dean has to wear the winning team’s hat at the service on Sunday morning after the series is over,” Kinman said.

Yes, we’re going to stop sex trafficking, but JUST TO MAKE IT MORE INTERESTING, someone has to wear the other team’s cap. Okay. I’ve posted the actual links in this post, because certainly stopping sex trafficking seems like a worthy cause, and I guess I’m happy to help spread the word. But I’m still very confused why this has anything to do with the World Series, and please contribute to my Bases Loaded Walk Away From The Unlicensed Practice of Dentistry World Series Challenge, where you can donate money to professional license inspectors in Boston and St. Louis and help close illegal dental clinics. Thanks.

The following Pokédex entry is entirely and in-no-way altered from the original:

Drew Smyly was a revelation coming out of the bullpen for the Tigers in 2013, posting a 2.31 FIP and 2.65 SIERA in 76 IP. With that number of innings, it’s obvious that he wasn’t just a LOOGY either, adopting a sort of all-or-nothing approach against righty hitters that yielded a higher K% than he achieved against lefty hitters — and generally resulted in more nothing and less all (.304 wOBA vs. righties).

An especially dominant first half by Smyly led to many to begin wondering whether the Tigers would have him stretch out as starter, especially given the middling performance of the team’s fifth starter, Rick Porcello. After all, Smyly had posted solid numbers in 94.1 IP as a starter in 2012, while Porcello — at least on the surface — was pitching poorly in the first half of 2013 (though Porcello’s 4.80 first-half ERA belied his 3.03 xFIP during the same period).

In early July, however, Tigers’ manager Jim Leyland put to rest any speculation on the matter of Smyly-as-stretched-out-second-half-starter:

no plans to change Smyly's role – "I'm not stretching him out. He can stretch out during the winter – on his bed" #Tigers Leyland

— Tom Gage (@Tom_Gage) July 9, 2013

Now that the proverbial but palpably painful winter has begun for the Tigers, we might begin to wonder again whether Drew Smyly will begin to stretch out 2014. Additionally, we may wonder whether he will do so on his bed as Leyland recommended, and if so, what might that look like. In fact, it brings to mind quite a number of questions about stretching, beds, bed stretches, Drew Smyly, winter, this winter specifically, death, etc. Here are some of those questions:

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I know, I know. We skipped the review on Friday, but when undead Satchel Paige has something important to say, you let him say it. That’s just one of life’s great aphorisms, one of the few not actually coined by Ol’ Satch himself.

But today? Today I’m sorry to say I’m back in the game of reviewing and recapping Back in the Game. And last week’s episode might be a game changer, people.

Danny’s still trying to get Vanessa to notice him, and following The Cannon’s advice, decides to become a bad boy. This involves him putting on a Metallica t-shirt, a knit cap, and a wallet chain, and saying things like, “Where’s your little boyfriend? Don’t care,” and “Want me to talk to [your parents]? Straighten them out?” Naturally, because negging is hilarious and awesome coming from 10 year olds, it works. But Danny’s bitten off more than he can chew, when he sneaks out of the house and gets slapped down in front of his lady love by a badder boy than he is.

Meanwhile, with her job as a waitress at the pizza parlor turning out to be somehow even worse than being a car dealer, and a sink full of dirty dishes no one else will do, Terry is just plain stressed out. What would cure that, you ask? Girls’ night out! At the club, Terry and Lulu (wait, IMDB tells me her character’s name is Gigi. I could have sworn she was called Lulu in the episode, so that’s what I’m going with), apparently the only women in the establishment, have a bevy of attractive gentlemen suitors to dance with. Terry, though, has too much to drink and spends the latter part of the episode hurling in the ladies’ room. Perhaps trying to reclaim her lost 20s in one night was a poor idea for this single mom/pizza waitress. Read the rest of this entry »

This headline from the Dayton Daily News (“‘For Sale’ sign on [Brandon] Phillips’ neck”) made me think I was about to read a piece about Brandon Phillips and a very strange neck tattoo. As it turns out, it is merely an awkward headline about the Reds looking to trade Phillips and not a new addition to the bizarre and disturbing neck tattoo trend. (Is it a trend? Or have I only noticed neck tattoos recently? And why in the world would anyone ever want to get a tattoo on his neck? I mean, I don’t understand why anyone would want to get a tattoo anywhere, but on your NECK?)

This leads me to a neck tattoo quiz. Can you name the following players AND identify what the heck is pictured on their necks?

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“This isn’t just about flying another pennant in their stadium – their fourth in 10 years – or having the opportunity to win their 12^th World Series championship.

It’s about the responsibility of upholding tradition.

It’s for old-time baseball.

They want to show this generation, that yes, it’s still hip to be square.

‘This is St. Louis, we have values here,’ said Brian Schwarze, 32. ‘My grandfather used to always tell me, ‘This is a gentleman’s game. You play the game right.”

‘If he were alive watching what LA did, he’d be shaking his head.’

Schwarze just so happens to be the grandson of Stan Musial.”

-Bob Nightengale, earlier today, USA Today

Hi, I’m Satchel Paige (Ed. note: No, you aren’t. Shut up, Bates.). You might remember me from such “Mickey Mouse” antics as trash talking opposing batters, and walking the bases loaded, then telling all my fielders to sit down while I struck out the side. (Also, I don’t care who you are, Mickey Mouse is still funny.) (Ed. note: True.)

I was born 14ish years before Stan Musial, and began playing professional ball in 1926, when Stan the Man was just six years old, and played the next 32 years before I took a break. What’s more, I played opposite Musial from 1951-1953 as a member of the St. Louis Browns when I was in my mid-40s. Stan was a great player, and a wonderful guy, but I was probably pretty much the greatest pitcher who ever lived. (Ed. note: Where are you going with this?)

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With the 2013 MLB season coming to a close in the next couple of weeks, and since the remaining postseason games will feature match-ups in which I am more rooting against a team than rooting for any team, I figured now’s a good time to give my Year Rear End Review…

My mother started taking me to games at Milwaukee County Stadium when I was about six years old. We had a Brewers Game Gear Bag™ that we’d bring to every game. The staples:

• peanuts (salted, w/ shell)
• Twizzlers
• bottles of iced tea and/or water
• Milwaukee Brewers seat cushions
• my baseball glove
• AM/FM transistor headphones (for listening to Bob Uecker)
• binoculars

We brought binoculars because we normally had pretty bad seats: in the bleachers or at the far ends of the upper deck. Or at least, for many years, that’s why I thought we brought them. It wasn’t until I was ten years old or so– after we had been to a few games with much better seats to which my mother also brought the binoculars — that I realized she was brought them to look at Paul Molitor’s butt.

“There will never be another butt like Moli’s.” -Ma Baumann

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With only four teams still playing baseball, interest in the 2013 season has no doubt mostly dissipated. Hence, the time seems right to begin transitioning to our cricket coverage here at NotGraphs. Because this is a new feature this year, and because most Americans are too boorish to have taken any interest in the sport before now, I’ll begin by familiarizing you with a few key cricketing concepts. For reference, we’ll use a contemporary account of an actual cricket “match”: namely, an account from just yesterday, entitled “Kohli stars, India pull off record chase.” Feel free to pull up the article and follow along to the best of your abilities, though your abilities as Americans are likely minimal.

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On Tuesday I asked you to either 1) Vote for one of the saucy ripostes I came up with in, like, 45 seconds while watching The Walking Dead, or 2) Craft your own saucy riposte. These ripostes (riposte! riposte! riposte! How many times can I write riposte!?) riposted a verbal thrust from Carlos Beltran, which insinuated that Yasiel Puig was both ignorant of the implications of his own actions and geographically misaligned in the head. Presto [note: altered from original quotation]:

“As a player, I just think you don’t know how to act… That’s what I think. You really don’t know. You must think that you’re still playing somewhere else.”

Of the options I gave, the following riposte received the most votes:

“Indeed, I think I must be playing at home on my Xbox, given the ease with which I’ve defeated you.”

Of the options presented by voters in the “Other” box, there were many! It appears many readers never developed the verbal jousting acumen I expected from noble NotGraphs readers, given the number of responses invoking Carlos Beltran’s mother in some capacity. Ta-da:

“I was playing at yo mama’s house last night”

“Your mother”

“That’s right I’m playing somewhere else, your momma’s butt is where I’m playing.”

Perhaps, given the stereotypes surrounding those interested in in-depth statistical analysis, I should have realized that nerds probably never figured out how to make comebacks more poignant than referencing the offender’s mother’s anus. This is not to say that I wasn’t thoroughly tickled by these ripostes! Also, I love you, nerds. Other themes included fecal matter:

“You are poop.”
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William Howard Taft, the first U.S. President to throw out a ceremonial first pitch, is back in the news this week.

William Howard Taft, the only massively obese man ever to be president of the United States, struggled mightily to control his weight a century ago… Taft was to eat a small portion of lean meat or fish at every meal, cooked vegetables at lunch and dinner (no butter), a plain salad, and stewed or baked fruit (unsweetened). He got a single glass of “unsweetened” wine at lunch. The doctor also allowed his own diet product, gluten biscuits, that were produced to his specifications in London. Taft bought them and had them shipped to the United States.
— The New York Times

So, given those restrictions, what might he have eaten at the ballpark?

…
…
…

Perhaps a build-your-own salad at Coors Field.

Wild pacific salmon at PNC.

Or a delicious batting glove.

Poor President Taft.