Wherein I take the easy way out and post this video, which, among other things, is the best Atlanta Braves advertisement ever, and probably NSFW (unless you work at a strip club).

There’s no more expedient a means for announcing to the world that one’s lovemaking is, like the mesquite plant of the Southwestern desert, both capable of puncturing a tire and delicious when combined with barbecue sauce — there’s no more expedient a means to this desirable end than the donning of a bolo tie.

That’s reason enough, of course, for celebrating this important article of decorative neckwear in these pages. However, in addition to these True Facts, there are also three baseball- and bolo-related images on the internet!

Let’s look at them, before mom finds out.

Here is a young man celebrating freedom with Hall of Famer Ted Williams:

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There exists a modern analog to the Oracle at Delphi, and that analog is Yahoo! Answers, where wisdom is dispensed like rubbers from a truck-stop vending machine. So what were baseball fans wondering about four years ago? This, natch:

And what sayeth the Oracle? Many things, actually, all of them varying shades of inane. It turns out that the modern analog to the Oracle at Delphi is stupid and unhelpful. What else will disappoint on this hollow, purposeless day?

This is Vic Tayback’s grave:

Whether you know it or not just yet, you are a devotee of the greatest of men.  No, I’m not talking Wally Moon.  I’m not talking about Dick Allen.  I’m not even talking about Vin Scully.  I am talking, dear friends, of Ron Swanson.

Swanson, the heavily-mustachioed dynamo whose presence elevates NBC’s Parks and Recreation from sublime to divine comedy, is equally skilled in woodworking, meat preparation, hoarding gold, saxamaphone, avoiding his job, and dispensing warm and sincere advice.  His Pyramid of Greatness is not a mere suggestion.  It is an essential way of life, if we are ever to save ourselves from ourselves.

And so it was with great enthusiasm this afternoon that I waded into a Twitter discussion spurred by Wendy Thurm about whether Ron Swanson would elect Jack Morris to the Hall of Fame on the basis of his mustache.  My position, that Swanson would not respect Morris’ mustache given that it looked like an unkempt squirrel who came to rest and slowly aged on Black Jack’s upper lip, was not expressed.  But my firm belief, that if Ron Swanson told us to we should immediately elect Jack Morris, was.

Indeed, it’s my belief that, not only should Ron Swanson’s position on Jack Morris carry the day, but his position on all baseball players should be considered sacrosanct.  And it is in this spirit that I ask you to help me choose Ron Swanson’s Baseball Hall of Fame.  The following is a list of nominees.  Feel free to add your own in the comments.  We shall show New Hampshire how democracy is done tomorrow when we vote on the candidates.

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There are those who look just fine in fashion eyewear, and there are those who look like they were born in fashion eyewear. Finally, there are those who look as though they’ve been wearing fashion eyewear for so long that the fashion eyewear has morphed into another physiological organ system, the purpose of which is to secrete vague disapproval. Danny MacFayden is such a man:

(Thanking-man’s thanks: Mop-Up Duty)

As noted in these pages last week, I recently purchased A Baseball Winter: The Off-Season Life of the Summer Game, a day-by-day account — edited by Terry Pluto and Jeffrey Neuman — of the 1984-85 offseason of five clubs: the New York Mets, the California Angels, the Atlanta Braves, the Philadelphia Phillies, and the Cleveland Indians.

As also noted, the book is written in a very compact, diary-like* format, which makes for an urgency, a feeling of being present, that’s very pleasant.

*Diary-esque? Diary-y? Is there an adjectival form of diary?

Here are some note on what I’ve read.

Contracts
Free agency was still a newish concept in 1984-85, and it’s clear from this text that a number of teams didn’t understand particularly well the level of risk associated with signing players — and particularly pitchers — to long-term contracts.

Consider some examples:

• Atlanta, led enthusiastically by owner Ted Turner, signed 32-year-old reliever Bruce Sutter to a six-year, $6.75 million deal — or, $1.125 million per year. A marginal win cost about $330 thousand in 1985, meaning $1 million ought to have bought ca. three wins above replacement. Sutter’s signing came after a precipitous drop in his strikeout rates, from the high-20% area in 1977-79 to about 16% in 1983-84. He would have had to produce roughly 20 wins to earn his contract. In fact, he produced 0.2 of them — wins, that is. His WPA over that same span was -3.79.

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Puffery, via ESPN, The Life:

The Life: We’re told you’re a pretty serious Atlanta Braves fan. Can you prove it? Do you know Chipper Jones‘ real name?

Harris: Larry. I thought I was being tested. This is a test?

The Life: You passed. You really are a baseball fan.

Apparel for a real fan of a real baseball fan.

Knowing Chipper Jones’s real first name makes one a real baseball fan.

For those of you who did not know that, you are not real fans, and you are really banished from FanGraphs.com and all its subsidiaries, henceforth. Because FanGraphs is for real baseball fans only.

If you were not on this fishing trip with Chipper, consider yourself not a real baseball fan.

But, so banished, if you happen to be a real fan of graphs, you can type the name of the man who invented graphs in the comment section, whereupon you will be dubbed a SuperNerd and not only be welcomed back to the FanGraphs community with open arms, but also have Filet-o-Fish sandwiches and Peanut M&Ms dangled into your mouth while being fanned with palm fronds by the HotNotGrapher of your choice. (The choice, of course, is a formality; anyone would pick a Gym-Shorted Carson Cistulli.)

At 1:07 AM Eastern Time, friend of the site Yirmiyahu emailed us with this urgent query:

So, who the hell is Willians Astudillo? He’s lead the minors in lowest K rate for 3 consecutive years (0.9%, 1.8%, 4.8%). How are those numbers possible? Does he bunt every single time? Another fun fact: he’s played multiple games at 7 different positions.

Unfortunately, the internet doesn’t seem to know anything at all about this guy except for his stats pages. Seriously, I’m fascinated. If your sources cannot reveal any information about this guy, it’s your duty to make some shit up.

A quick look at Astudillo’s Fangraphs page reveals that he is indeed very good at not striking out. In three seasons with the Phillies Venezuelan Summer League team, Astudillo has struck out 16 times over 648 plate appearances. Better yet, after striking out 10 times in 2009 VSL play, he struck out just 4 times in 2010, and then 2 times last year. So, if the pattern holds this year, he is due to strike out between 0 and 1 times. That is indeed pretty remarkable.

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Over the weekend, an anonymous — and very disgruntled — employee of the New York Metropolitans took part in New York Magazine’s feature, “A Workplace Confidential.” No punches were pulled. Witness:

It’s really sad to see what the Mets have become: A great franchise, on the biggest stage in sports, is now a laughingstock. Ownership is trying to turn the Mets, a big-market franchise, into a small-market franchise. That’s not just sad, it’s disgusting.

You know what I think when I read about the Mets nowadays? We’ve become the Oakland A’s. We’re the Pittsburgh Pirates. Our fans deserve better than that. You can’t possibly build a dynasty when you’re cutting costs left and right. The only way to turn it around is to sell the team.

Nobody wants to be compared to the A’s. Or the Pirates. Especially not the Pirates. I mean, at least the A’s have Moneyball, a 20-game win streak, the playoffs, and a feature film starring Brad Pitt. The Pirates have nothing save for PNC Park. And Andrew McCutchen. But back to the Mets. It gets worse. Prepare to say goodbye to David Wright:

Reyes and David Wright were the heart of that team. Those were the guys the Mets had to build around. But now that Reyes is in Miami, Wright will be traded by the All-Star break. If they’re going to run this like a small-market team, that’s the way it’s going to unfold. If I’m David Wright, I’d want to be gone.

That’s because it’s going to be a long summer–you’re talking about last place. It’s a tough division all of a sudden. Who do we have that’s going to beat Stephen Strasburg or Cliff Lee? Who’s going to match up against Tim Hudson or Tommy Hanson? We won’t even be able to beat Mark Buehrle. Everyone in the division has at least one big weapon that we don’t have.

And all of a sudden, I’m looking forward to watching Mark Buehrle face the Mets.

Anyway, after spending almost all of Monday morning, afternoon, and night on the phone, exhausting all our sources, the resolute NotGraphs Investigative Reporting Investigation Team has personally informed me that they’ve confirmed the identity of New York Magazine’s anonymous writer: Mr. Met.

When I reached Mr. Met for comment, he initially denied that he’d written the piece:

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Baseball, besides providing us with boundless joy and Things to Talk about with The Stern and Distant Fathers of America, also lays out before us the full complement of modern eyebrow styles. Let us now see to the essential business of identifying and naming those styles …

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