It’s been a while since I had some fun constructing Cistullian section headings, so I’m going to go ahead and do that for this post, since this post actually makes use of section headings, whereas most of my posts do not.

The NotGraphantasy Draft, What It Was, Essentially

To describe the essence of the NotGraphantasy Draft is easier, and, by virtue of being briefer, likely to be less annoying to the reader than detailing the logistics of said draft.

Essentially, the NotGraphantasy Draft was nine baseball nerds being very baseball nerdy.

The NotGraphantasy Draft, What It Was, Logistically

Logistically speaking, a Google Spreadsheet was created and shared among nine NotGraphs writers. The spreadsheet was populated with — over a too-long period of several weeks — the names (and often nicknames, sometimes improvised) of baseball personalities that the selecting participant felt exhibited exceptional “NotGraphsiness” in one way or another.

Also, emails were exchanged, politely encouraging some participants to hurrythef*ckup, while chiding others for stealing one’s next pick. Wiseness was cracked. Someone made a beer run. In these ways, the NotGraphantasy Draft was not unlike a real, live fantasy baseball draft.

The NotGraphantasy Draft was decidedly unlike a real, live fantasy baseball draft in its distinct lack of homemade buffalo chicken dip.

What the Participants Might Have Considered in Selecting Baseball Personalities for Their NotGraphantasy Team

As mentioned, the participants were advised to consider the “NotGraphsiness” of baseball personalities. In light of that, more specifically, they certainly considered facial hair. Pathos, too. Ebullience, perhaps; Twitter accounts, other-worldly abilities, dong size/shape/essence, enigmatic qualities, proclivities for culture and art, sundry other personal oddities that they (i.e. the participants themselves) witnessed in players in one way or another. Nostalgia, we can assume, guided at least a few selections in this draft. Having the Good Face certainly didn’t hurt a player’s chance of being selected in this draft, nor did having a bad face, nor did an excellent nickname.

The participants would not have considered whether a player was alive or deceased, or if s/he had played in MLB ever. To some degree, the participants would have also ignored whether a personality was real or fictional, as each participant was allowed to select two fictional baseball personalities: one player, and one “auxiliary.”

The participants would have considered where a baseball personality would fit into their roster, given the roster restrictions of the NotGraphantasy Draft.

The Roster Restrictions of the NotGraphantasy Draft, What Those Were, More Specifically

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Hopeless Joe is, of course, a longtime Royals fan. How could he not be? Recently, he answered a series of questions about the Royals from other fans who are so hopeless that they don’t even exist. Here is a transcript of that chat.

Q. So, George Brett. Will he save this team from oblivion?

A. Well, despite the wise words of John Wathan (“There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll have an impact“), I am, as usual, skeptical. The last time a new hitting coach really changed anything was back in Little League, when my first hitting coach–our star second baseman’s father, who was trying to make up for a lack of steady employment by spending thirty hours a week working on “Little League-related matters”–was caught under the bleachers with our left fielder’s mother, “examining the grass down there.” His replacement, an accountant far ahead of his time statistically, advised us all to steer clear of the ball and wait for a walk, because the ball is dangerous, and we might get hurt. Our already-pitiful record got even worse. And that’s why I don’t think George Brett has much of chance to turn things around. I do expect an increase, however, in the number of Royals players who crap in their pants, even excluding any age-related incontinence that might be plaguing elderly third base placeholder Miguel Tejada.

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My good friend that also sent this letter to Clayton Kershaw has penned another work of complicated genius. Even if you don’t agree with the main treatise of the new version, you have to admit it is of our time:

Before the time of MLB,
And sans ESPN,
They took the field at Mudville
To cheer the Mudville men
5000 voices yelling
A throng for way back when
The legend lives until this day
From even way back then
They cheered for mighty Casey
The legend’s famous name
Some still say they saw him
Now forever cloaked in fame
And as you all have heard by now
The game was pretty tight
Mudville fell behind by two
By the bottom of the last
Then got two outs and two men on
Awaiting Casey’s blast.
But as you know he watched two strikes
Then swung with all his might
Deflating the Mudville faithful
As he whiffed that fateful night.
Now looking back on Monday
From 125 years away
The commentators have gathered
To review Vin Scully’s play by play.
It now seems elementary
I hesitate to say
But with men at third and second
Intentionally walking Casey was the percentage play.
Casey lead the league that year
He always had come thru
The pitcher was just lucky
Casey had ‘nt hit him too.
So know we’ll never know the score
Had they played game our way,
And because first base was open
Put Casey on that day.
It makes a better story
A legend ’til this day
To pitch to mighty Casey
Is not the percentage play.

Who has a career OBP above .400 and the greatest batting stance in the NCAA?

My boy, Alex Buccilli of Coastal Carolina:

According to The Baseball Cube, Buccilli’s stance — a product of a sport’s psychologists suggestion to build a routine — has resulted in a career .358/.473/.477 slash (860 PA). His Coastal Carolina team has a combined .271/.370/.354 slash. His league, the Big South Conference, has a .274/.350/.366 slash.

Well done, Buccilli.

More GIFs below.
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“The purpose of art,” the present author has often proffered, while nursing a brandy, to an eager and waiting audience, “is to re-create the entire Human Condition in a single, unapologetic volley.”

It was that precise wisdom-thought which the author had in mind when he took the photo embedded here of Fifth Third Bank Ballpark — home of Class-A Cubs affiliate, the Kane County Cougars — in Geneva, Illinois, this past Saturday. It was also the wisdom-thought he (i.e. that same author) had in mind when he very artfully applied one of Instagram’s default filters to the image in question, before uploading it to his entirely unique profile page on that same site.

In a single plate appearance versus Reds’ right-hander Homer Bailey last night (a three-pitch strike-out), Indians OF/1B/DH Nick Swisher displayed behavior that set off red alerts in the NotGraphs Investigative Reporting Investigation Team’s Office for Investigating Player Alter-Egos. The NIRIT (pronounced nee-reet) OIPAE (pronounced oy-pay) has gathered the following footage and have noted possible alter-egos for Mr. Swisher based on that footage.

EXHIBIT A:
Footage Suggesting a “Koopa Troopa” Alter-Ego for Mr. Swisher

EXHIBIT B:
Footage Suggesting a “Toothless Codger” Alter-Ego for Mr. Swisher

Now the OIPAE needs your help, dear NotGraphs gumshoes. Which alter-ego do you think is more like for Mr. Swisher based on the given visual evidence?

[polldaddy poll=”7142665″]

Over the many months that I have worked here at NotGraphs, I have never asked for anything from you, the reader. I have provided you with at least a couple minutes of amusement, if not always intentionally and often at my own expense. I have provided this amusement free of charge. My work has cost you nothing, except perhaps your eternal soul. And I have come to believe that we are connected now in that great cosmic sense where people are connected to one another. We are bound together. I have given, and you have taken.

But the scales demand balancing, my friends. They do. This cannot be a relationship where we are unequal to one another. I cannot be your teacher; we must teach each other. Otherwise, certainly, there will be a growing resentment between us, and that would break my heart. My heart that I keep pouring out to you, in the hopes that you would have something to return to me. And yet, you have given me nothing.

Thus, in the name of all that is fair and just, I command you to go out and buy this for me:

Here are some “better” images of it:

Yes, it is an exceptionally creepy figurine of indeterminate material that may or may not be very old and rare that the seller is asking $1,500 for. Between the literally tens of you who will read this post, it hardly seems like too much to ask for you to band together, pool your resources and make us even-steven.

You ask why do I want this? What will I do with it? “Shut up,” I say. That’s not really any of your business right now. Your business is to buy me this thing that I want.

I get that after you buy it, you’re going to want to know that I appreciate your purchase, and that I’m giving it its proper respect in my home. You want to see it on display. I understand this, and I will be happy to show you how it is reverently displayed. But until then, my business is my own. My desires are my own. My plans are my own, and I will not have them called into question. That would be rude, that question calling.

So go. Talk in the comments. Figure out who is going to buy this for me and how best to get them the money. And bring me this small baseball figurine cast from indeterminate material. Do my bidding. Show your gratitude. Make us equals.

Hello everyone. Welcome the Edward Jones Chatting Cage, where we get to know more about some of the biggest people in MLB baseball. I’m your host, Jeremy Brisiel. Today, we’re talking to the new president of the Houston Astros, Reid Ryan. Reid, thanks for joining us.

Thanks, for having me, JB.

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You, reader, sitting there alone in what has charitably been referred to as a “studio apartment,” but which is actually more accurately described as the “halfway house between your miserable birth and miserable death” — you desperately want to know what love is.

Fortune, which has so often beaten you about the legs and chest and neck, has brought you now to the present internet weblog post — and, more specifically, to the image embedded here of the Kiss Cam from an Erie SeaWolves game at historic Jerry Uht Park.

A Jubilee of Eroticism? A Sexy Luncheon on the Grass? There are many words and phrases for the unchecked carnal pleasures at work within this heart-shaped mise-en-scene.

What we have ultimately, though, is a Primer in Love. The sad, sad reader would do well to study it. Eagerly.