1. Who will be the starting leftfielder for the Tigers?
2. Were there always three outfielders?
3. Who decided that the Tigers should be named the Tigers?
4. Did Tigers roam the streets of Detroit in the late 19th century?
5. Do Tigers roam the streets of Detroit now?
6. Is that why no one lives in Detroit?
7. Do any of the Tigers players actually live in Detroit?
8. There’s a Broadway musical with a character named Nathan Detroit, right?
9. Is there a reason I know that?
10. Have any Tigers players seen any Broadway musicals?
11. Why is Brennan Boesch’s name so hard to spell?
12. In fact, with Jhonny Peralta, Quintin Berry, Brayan Villarreal, Drew Smyly, and Al Albuwhatever are the Tigers collectively the hardest-to-spell team in the majors?
13. Has anyone measured that?
14. Is Al Alburquerque the only major leaguer whose last name is also a major city?
15. No, even the Tigers have at least one more in Ramon Santiago, so that’s a stupid question, no?
16. And there’s always at least a couple of players named Washington, I guess, right?
17. Plus I’m forgetting about Austin Jackson, yes?
18. Should these even count as questions when some of them are really just statements?

Thanks to Deadspin yesterday, we discovered perhaps the greatest headline ever devised by manbrains and ladyfingers, as the Philadelphia Daily News’s David Murphy tried to entice you to click with the following:

 Note how David spruces up a post explaining why the Phillies are never going to trade for Giancarlo Stanton with the name of the local nine, plus both iterations of Stanton’s name, plus boobs and Donovan McNabb, simultaneously attracting Philadelphians who are angry and horny. That’s just good headlineing. But I think we can do better. I think we have to do better, especially if we are going to compete for scarce online resources. So please, help us to help you decide what to click on so that we can better serve you, and “earn” more money. Answer the following poll question and/or suggest alternative headlines you would click on in the comments, on which I’ve been told all the finest discourse on the Internet takes place.
[polldaddy poll=”6908179″]

Is it…

(a) Wacky next-door neighbor of the internet Jose Canseco…

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Puns welcome.

While researching for a totally different article for a totally different site, I had to peruse the Injury History section of player pages at Baseball Prospectus. One of these players was catcher Chris Snyder who suffered an injury that can be considered “unfortunate.”

You know what hurts? Getting a shot to the giggle beans. You know what really hurts? Getting hit in the giggle beans so hard, said beans are considered fractured. I’m not entirely sure if you can fracture soft tissue, but Chris Snyder had to learn the hard way.

Internet searching has shown that Mr. Snyder does indeed have children, most likely conceived before 2008.

Josh Reddick has had a look for every moment in his life. There was the fresh-faced rook, the liquor store crustache, the Brett Michaels and the Half Mountain Man.

Now, apparently, Reddick has won a championship belt for his crooning on the latest Iron and Wine compilation, “Shepherds in Moonlight; A Journey in Sport & Music.” Reddick worked hard to look the part, and won the award for his track, “The Chameleon’s Power.”

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Los Angeles Angels 1B prospect C.J. Cron is a good human being. All the scouts will tell you: What Cron doesn’t understand, he does not judge; but he does not fear the unknown — or at least he does not act out of such fear.

His vigilance against cruelty to other living things has plus-plus potential, and he has the work ethic (something that Protestant scouts will point to as additional evidence of Cron’s good human potential) to make that projection manifest in the Big Leagues of Life. His everyday interaction with other humans, especially, are fluid, and he’s a natural at treating others with dignity. He’s very patient at the plate, and in almost every other situation.

He rarely curses out of frustration or anger, but drops f-bombs liberally when camaraderie is at stake.

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Inspired way too much by this article. Sorry, Ty Wigginton.

MESA, Ariz. — There he is, next to the oxygen tank, with a paramedic by his side at all times. Yep, it’s Oscar Grimstone, 102 years young, trying to fit his arthritic feet into a pair of cleats for the 83rd consecutive spring, stretching his artificial hip on the field, getting ready to play for the residents of a state that didn’t even exist when he was born, in the uniform of his 57th different major league team.

Though Grimstone is unlikely to play with any degree of regularity, or even play at all, his experience, grit, determination, pacemaker, moxie, desire, dementia, and large supply of powerful medication are all likely to help his team reach its dream of the postseason. Especially the medication. But also the grit.

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Those readers who have imbibed themselves with the audio libations that are the weekly FanGraphs podcast featuring Carson “Boy Hitler” Cistulli and Dayn “Sex With Men & Women” Perry know that an episode is not to be missed, especially the most recent episode.

That is why those listeners will want to drink deeply of the following: a previously unaired episode of said podcast, which finds our beloved pod-stars affirming each other’s affirmations in an exchange that is sure to lift your Monday-soiled spirits. Enjoy!

Totally Unaltered Audio

As an intelligent baseball fan, you have surely by now read or heard the famous and apocryphal story of Rickey Henderson renewing his acquaintance with John Olerud. If not, here’s the original tale, as told by ESPN’s Tim Kurkjian:

In spring training 1999, Rickey Henderson of the Mets was reunited with first baseman John Olerud, who had been his teammate with the Blue Jays six years earlier. As most people know, Olerud had an aneurysm in college, which required brain surgery. So to protect his head, he was allowed to wear a helmet in the field. As the story goes, Henderson was talking to Olerud one day, noticed the helmet and said “You know, when I played in Toronto, we had a guy who wore a helmet.”

“Rickey,” said Olerud, “that was me.”

Now, for your enjoyment, please partake of three adaptations of this timeless yarn.

1.

It had been weeks now, but John never got used to hospitals. The stinging scent of disinfectant, the hollow glow of the fluorescent lights, the squeak of intern’s sneakers in endless tiled hallways: all of it felt synthetic, unnatural, unwelcome. John reached room A232, took a single deep breath, and pushed through.

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