In an effort to reinforce the popular notion that all sabermetric analysts are poorly socialized nerdbones with unfortunate hair cuts, Brian Kenny and the producers of MLB Network’s Clubhouse Confidential have invited FanGraphs managing editor Dave Cameron to appear on today’s (Monday’s) edition of that program.

Kenny, for his part, does a good job with the show. He appears genuinely interested in asking, and attempting to answer, smart questions about baseball. Furthermore, he has a head of hair that will outlive us all.

The show broadcasts at 5:30pm ET — with what appears to be another showing at 7:30pm ET, for those viewers whose abdominal muscles aren’t fully cramped after pointing and laughing during the first.

I just had an idea for a fun project. Let’s find an MLB Player with one of the fewest numbers of Twitter followers and make him really happy.

My quick investigation tells me it’s definitely not Nick Swisher, who has 1,446,260 followers.

So here are my nominees:

Jordan Lyles (1,406 followers):

Twitter / @jordanlyles41: Red head in Shooter.. #wif … via kwout

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Blogger Murray Chass, America’s Least Favorite Grandpa^TM, is famously promiscuous with his base-and-ball opinions, and his latest gumbo of a dispatch is no disappointment. His masterstroke comes when he recounts why he’s decided not to put the maximum 10 names on any Hall-of-Fame ballot regardless of the candidates’ merits:

Having 10 players enter the Hall at the same time would detract from the honor for each player. In addition, the induction ceremony would take forever and require a break for dinner.

Once more, for championship emphasis:

… and require a break for dinner.

And so …

Yes, I realize his name is probably pronounced “luh-zor” and is probably just a shortening of “Lazorako” or “Lazorachak,” but should that ruin our fun? The illustrious 19th and early 20th century Staten Island immigration workers say no — we should too!

First of all, the real facts: Johnny Lazor was a backup outfielder for the Boston Red Sox, and because of a little skirmish in Europe in the 1930s to 1940s, Lazor snatched a good chunk of playing time while Ted Williams and Dom DiMaggio served their country. Lazor played well in their absence, but was probably just a fourth outfielder succeeding in a league depleted by war.

But the real question we need to ask ourselves is this: What would a Saturday morning cartoon featuring said Johnny Lazor be about?
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I’m at work. On a Sunday. So, naturally, I’m procrastinating. Mere moments ago, I stumbled upon “Negro League Baseball,” by Natural Resource, a track I’d never heard before, on YouTube. Which makes this breaking news. Get it, “Heard this”? Oh, come on.

Anyway: Hip hop and baseball, two of my favorite things. Bless the Internet.

Baseball is not just a sport
It’s the verbal, mental, physical, spiritual, emotional level
That we are on.

Natural Resource: Baseball nerds.

Making an appearance on TV’s Conan on Wednesday, Detroit Tiger SuperAce Justin Verlander announced both to O’Brien and all of America that he will one day die either of congestive heart failure or diabetes — just not in those words.

Measuring “baseballness” can be tough, and I know that I often wish for a handy yardstick for, say, which of the dresses in my closet is the most baseball. I haven’t figured that one out yet, but here’s a handy tool to help you identify precisely how baseball your favorite band is.

Suggestions for added bonuses or strikes are welcome in the comments and I will update the quiz as I see fit. Of course, please also share your very important results. Post additions will be noted in italics.

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When I was a young child — no older than five or six — I owned a plastic Phillies helmet. It was basically a bigger version of those helmets they serve ice cream in at the ballpark, or a cheaper version of the helmets that catchers wear.

I loved this helmet. Indeed, it was one of my most prized possessions. So prized, in fact, that I wore it everywhere. I think I saw it as my connection to the surprising 1993 team that ultimately made the World Series and introduced me to baseball fandom.

One beautiful summer day, my grandparents took me and my two-and-a-half-year-old brother for an outing to the Philadelphia Zoo. (Please allow me to use this space to thank my grandparents for the many enjoyable outings they took me and my brother on when we were little. Allow me to also use this space to say damn my grandparents for letting me wear a friggin’ baseball helmet to the zoo.)

This particular day at the zoo began like any other. Ooooh, lions. Ooooh, snakes. Ooooh, polar bears. Animals are great — especially when viewed from a safe distance and/or behind three inches of glass.

It wasn’t until we reached my favorite part of the zoo — the primates — that the trip took a disastrous turn.

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Excuse me, sir, do you have a minute to save the environment?

The folks at Viva El Birdos have outdone themselves. Let’s get right down to business: Here’s the original, via Getty Images:

And here are, as I like to call them, the masterpieces:

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