I’m going to go ahead and file this one in my ‘utopia’ folder, because while I would love to live in a world where baseball cards and rap lyrics are allowed to mingle freely without fear of prosecution, I realize that it’s just not a practical idea. With that said, I salute you, 1999 Skybox Thunder, for refusing to let anything get in the way of your vision, for laughing at tradition, for daring to include not just stats or ‘fun facts’ on the back of your baseball cards, but also carefully crafted player-specific rap lyrics. They aimed for the moon and missed, but, contrary to what the poster said in my middle-school gymnasium, they did not land among the stars, mostly because the raps just flat out suck. You can read a much more thorough account from a superior writer here, or you can bear with me for like thirty more seconds.

There are over three hundred of these cards, and while I’m sure that each one is literally the best thing ever, I’m only going to give you one for the road: #H8, a special Mark McGwire ‘Hip-No-Tized’ Insert, which can be had for only six American dollars.

Here it is written out, so you don’t have to strain your pretty little eyes (because it’s all for you reader): Popeye… King of Swing… Big Mac… Does it really matter what we call you? It’s all good, ’cause we think you’re the greatest home run hitter of all time. More dingers per at-bat than anyone in history. Even The Babe can’t touch that stat. True that. True that.

I can’t knock the ‘hustle’, but I absolutely can knock the rhyme scheme. C’mon homies, that’s a soft verse.

WHO SAID IT: Matt Cain, or Herman Cain?

1. “To be able to go nine innings was completely amazing. That was definitely a little different, going straight over to the catcher and going back to the mound to shake hands.”

2. “OK, Libya. [pause] President Obama supported the uprising, correct? President Obama called for the removal of Gadhafi. I just wanted to make sure we’re talking about the same thing before I say, ‘Yes, I agreed’ or ‘No I didn’t agree.’ I do not agree with the way he handled it for the following reason — nope, that’s a different one. [pause] I gotta go back and see. I got all this stuff twirling around in my head. Specifically, what are you asking me that I agree or not disagree with Obama?”

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You will often hear those given to bemoaning bemoan the notion that Kids Today don’t play pickup baseball with the frequency or vigor that they did back in the days of the bemoaner. But, lo, there is good news! Thanks to an enterprising Japanese astronaut, we now know that any young stripling can hone his baseball chops with nothing more than a bat, a ball and a readily available zero-gravity environment. No need for friends or neighborhood confreres! Witness, my love:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsNFqMtNZvI&feature=player_embedded

He balked.

(HT: The Internet)

This was one Dave Gershman on October 31st, 2011, just as the Hot Stove season picked up. Sunday night, the Miami Marlins made their first major as representatives of Miami, adding Jose Reyes on a six-year, $106 million deal. Suffice to say, that makes Jose Reyes a “big free agent.”

And yet, here we are, 10:30 AM Eastern Time, and we have no proof of this kitten eating he promised the world. Make no mistake — neither myself nor NotGraphs as a whole support nor condone the act of kitten eating. This is not about some sick desire to see a fellow man ingest a kitten — a certainly poor and defenseless creature! No, this is about accountability. What good are our claims as writers, as bloggers, as so-called experts, if we do not back them up with actions?

Mr. Gershman has provided excuses; he has attempted misdirection. But we are not fooled. These claims are not taken lightly in the blogger community. When we make promises, we back them up in this community. If even one does not, it reflects poorly on all of us, and it is simply unacceptable.

With every minute that passes without proof of the completed act, Mr. Gershman’s credibility dwindles further. You are on the spot now, Mr. Gershman. Your move.

This video — apparently taken circa 1990 — of Tommy Lasorda being irascible and flipping out on a camera crew was posted to YouTube yesterday and shared by VinScullyIsMyHomeboy.com.

Here is a transcription of Lasorda’s tirade — in verse form, of course:

Hey, tell them son of a bitches up there
that if I go one more fucking time
and this thing don’t work,
I’m gonna grab their fucking asses.

I’m fucking tired of this shit.

(We’re ready).

I gotta get ready now.
I gotta get
in the right fucking frame ‘a mind.

(Think good thoughts).

Fuckin’ assholes.

A few disjointed thoughts about this clip:

1. It needs to be noted in Lasorda’s defense that he is from Philadelphia (well, Norristown, more specifically), where we are shocked that only one out of every ten words he uttered in this tirade was “fuck.”

2. Tommy Lasorda has looked the same age for the last 30 years, at least. It wasn’t so great for him when he looked 75 at the age of 60, but now that he’s 84, I guess it’s not half bad.

3. I think this has some meme potential:

Ultimately, I blame myself. I thought the first attempt at the Eric Sogard Meme was complete enough, if not entirely exhaustive. But there was one so conspicuous in its absence that it rendered previous efforts meaningless. I come now to atone:

This has been your Daguerreotype of the Evening.

“Just the tip” of the hat to Notgraphs reader Eric Czaplicki for suggesting this story.

Team Innuendo!!!!
AKA: I Am Twelve Years Old!

Starting pitchers:

1. Doug Fister
“I Hardly Know Her!” …Obviously our best in the bunch both in terms of ability and in terms of innuendo. Here’s a story: when I worked at a bookstore, I used to call people at the other information desks and tell them I needed them to look up something for a customer and then feed them this ISBN and hang up: 1890159026.

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Earlier today, minor American author and disappointment to his parents Dayn Perry proposed to Kurt Suzuki how the latter might reach his daily quota of 4,000 calories in more colorful, debaucherous fashion. While Perry’s suggestion seems entirely original, some Serious Internetting has revealed that Perry actually stole his prescription directly from the late Harry Caray.

I’d say I was ashamed in him (i.e. Perry), but knowing how ashamed he already is in himself, I’ll refrain for the moment.

The Internet teaches us that A’s catcher Kurt Suzuki is attempting to gain weight this offseason by shoving down his gullet at least 4,000 calories each day. As Aaron pithily notes, Suzuki is being a crashing bore about the whole thing by choking down things like smoothies and turkey burgers. Clearly, Mr. Suzuki, in his bid to become larger and more in charger, needs some help.

So, in the interest of making Mr. Suzuki a more compelling Leisured Gentleman, we present these alternative routes to consuming four score and 3,920 calories in a day:

• – 34.5 Bud Light Limes (Bud Lights Lime?).
• – 61.5 shots of vodka.
• – Unlimited portions of intravenously applied Angel Dust/PCP, which might also help the hoisting gentleman in the gymnasium.
• – 2.2 pounds of deboned human flesh. To this end, some helpful Internet hotlinks!
• – By extension and in the service of a logical end-game, 2.2 pounds of deboned Nancy Grace cutlets.
• – 133.3 ladles-full of Old Country Buffet’s rabies-free chicken gravy.
• – 1.6 cans of snuff tobacco.
• – 33.3 tablespoons of motor oil vinaigrette.

So, Mr. Suzuki, as you can see there’s really no cause to soldier on with banalities like “vegetables” and “meats not likely to lead to a CDC-declared Hot Zone encircling the blast field.”

John Autin over at High Heat Stats Blog pointed out that the length of the average save is dwindling. Watch it disappear:

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