Prior to Saturday’s game between the Atlanta Braves and Washington Nationals at Nationals Park, our Investigative Reporting Investigation Team, in the U.S. capital to collect another one of our many awards, caught up with the always personable Thomas Jefferson. The principal author of the Declaration of Independence and third President of the great United States, Jefferson is now well retired, save for a few part-time hours with the Nationals.

“I like to think of it as consulting work,” said the Man of the People.

Jefferson chatted with NotGraphs about the Nationals’ season, their second-best since moving south from Montreal, the return of Stephen Strasburg, and — most colorfully about — Jayson Werth’s disappointing campaign.

“Werth? I hate to go all David Ortiz on you, and it’s not very Presidential-like of me, but, well, f*ck. Werth’s awful,” Jefferson said. “I knew this was how this story was going to end. The contract was a mistake. Even Keith Law agrees. And he’s arguably the most brilliant baseball mind at our collective disposal.”

Unfortunately for Jefferson, his comments were leaked to Werth, who, in the moments before the game began, confronted the President in the Nationals locker room. Werth was very animated, a season’s worth of frustration boiling over, and had to be restrained, after yelling: “I’m sick of [Jefferson]! Lincoln and Washington, too! I’ll take them all on! Except Teddy. Teddy’s my boy.”

Cooler heads prevailed. Until Saturday afternoon’s President’s Race, when Jayson Werth, with the help of some of his teammates, made through on his promise. Witness:

No word yet on the severity of the injuries suffered by Presidents Jefferson, Lincoln and Washington. Teddy Roosevelt has a mild concussion. He’s resting comfortably at home.

Image courtesy The Associated Press, via Daylife.

You’re familiar with the drill: In which the Royal We insert Dick Allen’s name into various works representative of the Western Canon, thus adding to those various works the patina of blessedness.

In today’s episode, Stanley Cup champion and Hockey Hall of Fame goaltender Ken Dryden, in his seminal work on hockey, The Game, rightfully called “The greatest hockey book ever written,” waxes poetic about Dick Allen, the best hockey player you never knew about.

It’s not easy for a hockey player to dominate a game. A goalie, any goalie, can make a bad team win or a good team lose, he can dominate a result, but that is not the same thing. He cannot dominate a game, because, separate from the action of a game, he is not quite part of it.

In basketball, one man can dominate: usually a big man—Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain, Willis Reed, Bill Walton, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar—able to play most of the game’s forty-eight minutes, and, as with any goalie, it might be any big man. It comes with the position. But in hockey, seventeen players are rotated more or less equally five at a time, and rarely does anyone play much more than half a game. A forward or defenseman, a special forward or defenseman, might with unusual frequency find the right moment in a game and make a play that will swing a result. But for too long periods of time, the game goes on without him, and his impact can rarely be sustained. In the 1970s, only two players could dominate a game. One was Dick Allen, the other Bobby Clarke. Clarke, a fierce, driven man, did it by the unrelenting mood he gave to a game, a mood so strong it penetrated his team and stayed on the ice even when he did not. Dick Allen did it another way.

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You can’t make that stuff up. Hence the “#TrueStory” hashtag.

What a disaster. On the bright side: The Twin Cities’ nightmare is almost over.

H/T: @PatrickSull. He’s my favorite Masshole.

While the tattoo is mostly commonplace in baseball, there seems to be (with the exception of journeyman reliever Justin Miller) a real dearth of knuckle tattoos — i.e. the classiest possible tattoo.

Perhaps, one thinks, the reason for so few knuckle tattoos is a lack of inspiration among their potential human canvases. It’s with said lack of inspiration in mind that the author submits here five proposals for specific and active major leaguers.

To wit:

For Brett Gardner, the Yankees’ underrated star:

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Breaking news, baseball fans: Marlins closer Leo Núñez is not who he says he is. In fact, it has recently been reported that Leo Núñez is not Leo Núñez at all:

MIAMI—
The Marlins on Wednesday placed closer Leo Nunez on the restricted list so he could return to his native Dominican Republic to clear up a few things. Namely, his name.

A league source initially said Nunez was not missing the Marlins’ final six games as a result of improper conduct. Later, the source confirmed Nunez’s premature departure was the result of an immigration issue.

The Associated Press citing two people with knowledge of the case reported Nunez’s real name is Juan Carlos Oviedo and is 29, a year older than his listed age. The report also said the Marlins had been aware of the discrepancy for months.

A club spokesman would not comment beyond acknowledging Nunez was moved to the restricted list and that he’d returned to the Dominican to take care of a personal matter.

Who or where the real Leo Núñez is remains unknown, but it appears fairly certain that he is not “Leo Núñez, Marlins closer.”  Regarding the identity “Leo Núñez, Marlins closer,” as one possibility we have Juan Carlos Oviedo, as noted above. Bo-RING. Thank goodness an “industry observer” has proposed a far more intriguing alternate possibility:

One industry observer said he didn’t believe this incident would impact Nunez moving forward, saying: “At this point in his career it doesn’t seem like a big deal. In reality, what is the big deal unless it turns out he is Fidel Castro in disguise.”

Mr. “Industry Observer” says this as if it is patently absurd. But let’s think about this rationally for a moment.

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That’s gonna leave a mark.

Earlier in the week, Dave Cameron introduced — and, shortly thereafter, reconsidered — a series entitled “FanGraphs Official Position On…” In theory, the series would use award-voting season as an entree into discussing both the strengths and limitations of advanced stats — and WAR, in particular — in determining the leagues’ MVPs and Cy Youngs and other things.

In practice, the project was more complicated than that. As Cameron noted in a piece on Tuesday, “The titles of the post[s] — and the fact that [FanGraphs is] really a big conglomerate of individuals with their own take on things — probably created more confusion than anything else.”

As usual, Cameron’s remarks are the picture of reason.

While the taking of “official positions” involves painting with too large a brush where our analytical cousins are concerned, the reader should know that, at NotGraphs, we endorse painting with as large a brush as possible — so that one can finish painting more quickly, of course, before moving on to more pressing matters, like inappropriate touching.

It’s for this reason that NotGraphs absolutelydefinitely has some official positions. Though an exhaustive list would be too exhaustive to compose, the author has submitted some representative stances for the reader’s consideration.

Here, then, are NotGraphs’ totally official positions on:

English, Written or Otherwise
It’s rude to communicate in any language besides English — but equally coarse not to festoon one’s sentences with charming foreign expressions.

English, Written or Otherwise, Part II
Whenever possible, use the oldest extant word for a thing. Instead of photograph, for example, use daguerreotype. Instead of Christian, consider lion food.

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A lot of things in life aren’t fair. Like having to grow up in Florida, probably. Or how your parents bought Becky a car even though they never bought you a car and you got better grades than Becky and were involved in a lot of extracurricular activities.

Another thing that isn’t fair — to Yankee call-up Brandon Laird and to a lot of major leaguers in the future — is Matt Moore’s changeup.

The one you see here is from the second inning of Thursday night’s contest between the Rays and Yankees. It features 10.1 inches of armside run and 2.2 inches of “rise” — this, relative to league averages of 8.2 and 5.1, respectively, on the change. (A note: Pitch F/x actually appeared to classify some of his changeups as split-fingered fastballs, although it’s unlikely that he’s throwing the ball purposely different.)

In all, Moore threw 11 changeups against the Yankees and received swing-and-misses on four of them (36.4%) — this, for a pitch that receives whiffs on only about 12% of offerings league-wide.

Thanks to Brooks Baseball for Pitch F/x data.

I’m at the Rogers Centre. Section 217, first base side. The lid’s open. There couldn’t be finer weather for the grand finale, the last baseball game in Toronto this year.

Vernon Wells is getting “the business” in left field. An elderly woman to my right booed him when he came to bat in the fifth. She’s merciless. A couple of enthusiastic Blue Jays fans, or, as I like to call them, “clowns,” just started the wave.

There’s an Englishman sitting behind me, at his second game this week. About baseball he said: “I just wish we had this in England.”

Baseball’s the best. It’s going to be a long winter.

ADDENDUM: Edwin Encarnacion — “Double E,” not “E5” — walked it off for Toronto. It was glorious. The Blue Jays made sure that since they weren’t going to the postseason, neither were the Los Angeles Angels. Here’s to playing spoiler.

In the 9th and 12th innings, when Jose Bautista stepped up to bat, most everyone in the building rose to their feet and showered the American League’s Most Valuable Player with applause, and chants of “MVP! MVP! MVP!” This warmed my baseball heart. We might not have given him the many curtain calls he probably deserved, but Bautista was appreciated. His has been another incredible season, one this city won’t soon forget.

I had it all Wednesday night: Great company; delicious sweet potato fries; a beautiful night; a couple of Bud Light Limes; and an extra innings, come-from-behind walk-off Blue Jays win. If that’s the last baseball game I ever have the privilege of watching in person, I’m good. No complaints.

As tonight’s Daguerreotype of the Evening will prove beyond doubting, the Distinguished Rooter is not averse to the well-timed profane gesture utilizing the greatest of fingers. Moreover, the Distinguished Rooter also possesses a preternatural awareness of the mascot’s downward plane of vision, and at times he — the Distinguished Rooter, that is — can wield this preternatural awareness to devastating effect …

(Bird-flip of kindness: Imgur)

As part of his ongoing efforts to bring world peace to the world, Peter Gammons submitted some important thoughts via Twitter late Wednesday night that have given the neterati much in the way of food for thought.

In an effort to fully digest said food, NotGraphs’ own Eric Augenbraun rendered Gammons’ cryptic message into the LOLGammo form that he’s made famouser than famous, as follows:

And because the internet only contains so many images of Peter Gammons, the present author has also attached Gammons’ message to the first three random images proffered by that most indispensable of websites, ROFL Bot.

To wit:

George Washington crossing the Delaware:

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