Albert Lyu and Carson Cistulli are overzealously reviewing colleague Jonah Keri’s forthcoming book, The Extra 2%. All those interested in L-ing OL would do well to read parts one and two of the series.

In what follows, they examine original Devil Rays owner Vincent Naimoli’s baddest behavior in a manner that critics are describing as “almost intelligible.”

Cistulli: I’m telling you something you already know, Albert Lyu, when I tell you that chapter two of Jonah Keri’s The Extra 2% is dedicated almost exclusively to the very poor behavior of the Rays’ first owner, Mr. Vincent J. Naimoli.

I don’t know for a fact, but I’ll assume, that this was a fun chapter for Jonah to write, as it’s mostly just an anthology of anecdotes — all concerning a man who, while, by all accounts, was a savant of thrift, had absolutely no concept of brand management.

With a view towards celebrating Naimoli’s exploits, allow me to propose a fantasy-type draft, Albert, wherein we select, alternately, our 10 favorite Naimoli-related events.

You find this idea amenable, Albert?

Albert: Amen, Carson. I will assume that this is neither a rotisserie, H2H, or linear weights points-based league and that the criteria is entirely up to our own personal interpretations. Your move, Cistulli.

Cistulli: As you anticipate, I’ll not only take part in, but will also judge the winner of, this faker-than-usual fantasy league (the winner of which will receive an ice sculpture of Michelangelo’s David with vodka coming out his you-know-what).

Also, because I’m the inventor of this idea, I choose myself to draft first… And with pick No.1 of this entirely make-believe draft I’ll take Naimoli Hates Internet.

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That’s a picture of Teddy Roosevelt putting some lead in Bigfoot.

And right now it’s the only thing that helps.

Why my long face? As you have no doubt heard, my team’s ace, the lovely and talented Adam Wainwright, is probably out for the season and facing Tommy John surgery. Needless to say, this likely dry-gulches our chances in the balanced (if unspectacular) NL Central. Given the subsequent pitching shortage and the lateness of this hour, I fully expect that an NRI will soon be extended to Charlie Brown or Scott Stapp or, worse, Jaime Navarro.

And here I am, left with nothing but beery regrets.

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I… I don’t even know… which is which? My whole world is turned upside down!

In case you haven’t watched SportsCenter anytime since last March, the guy on the left is Jimmer Fredette, and he is very good at college basketball. Fredette, a 6’2″ shooting guard from New York, has pushed Brigham Young University’s basketball team into national relevance thanks mostly to his pinpoint shooting from anywhere on the court. And, like Friedman, Fredette comes from a Jewish family.

That’s about where the similarities between Fredette and Andrew Friedman, pictured on the right, end. Friedman has, like Fredette, shown himself to be excellent at his craft, building a contender out of spare parts in one of the smallest and least lucrative markets in the league. However, Friedman certainly can’t play basketball, at least if Joe Maddon is telling the truth. Via Jayson Stark (insider subscription needed for full article):

“I watched Andrew deke [Rays assistant minor league director] Chaim Bloom,” Maddon reported. “He got Chaimer in the air. Went around him. Free layup. And missed everything. No rim. No nothing. Air ball. Over everything. That’s what I saw. I don’t think it was too windy, either. Calm winds. Great fake. Clear path. No iron.”

Ouch. Jimmer is likely to get drafted in the first round of next year’s NBA Draft. Friedman might be lucky not to be the last pick in the Rays’ front office basketball games going forward.

Our plagiarism of the Eastern Church’s feast-day tradition continues today with one of the game’s most important historical figures.

Life: Wagner is inarguably one of the greatest baseballers ever, compiling some 149.8 WAR in his 21-year career, and playing — according both to his contemporaries and the available fielding metrics — a passable shortstop through his age-42 season. Known as “The Flying Dutchman,” Wagner has also attained legendary status for his T206 baseball card, of which there are only 57 known copies.

Ritual: To commemorate and recognize Wagner, devise some amusing adjective-demonym combinations. Like, “The Discriminating Botswanan,” for example. Or: “The Woebegone Chilean.”

Prayer of Wagner

Contrary to what many will assume,
your sobriquet refers not to your
conspicuous athleticism, but rather
to the flight of the soul towards the divine
during an act of pure play —

a concept that you introduced
and upon which you elaborated
during a series of celebrated guest lectures
at Union Theological Seminary
shortly after your retirement.

Behold, the wild nerd!

Legend tells that back in the heady, wild days of The Internet, there once existed a blog so full of wit, snark, and sabermetric wisdom, mainstream sports writers quaked in their slippers at its very mention. Run by the titans Ken Tremendous, Dak, and Junior, this website – FireJoeMorgan.com – was a shining beacon of hope for all the saber-geeks hiding away in their parents’ basements. One day, their day would come! One day, sabermetrics would be accepted! One day, sportswriters would stop writing crap! And until that day came, at least our laughs could hide our tears.

Although Fire Joe Morgan has since passed into the realms of memory, its legacy lives on everywhere sports fans mix humor, advanced stats, and copious amounts of snark. As NotGraphs is an alternative baseball blog that likes to dabble in all three of these areas, it’s only fitting that we pay homage to The Greats that have come before us. And so, I am proud to announce that NotGraphs is officially reintroducing the famed “Food Metaphors” post tag.

Yes, that’s right – food metaphors, the one thing Ken, Dak, and Junior say they miss the most from Fire Joe Morgan. Sportswriters have many funny habits, but one of the weirdest is their odd obsession with food metaphors. “He threw the high cheese right by him.” “He really put some mustard on that pitch.” These metaphors pepper our discussions about baseball, and certain baseball writers are drawn to them like cherry pie.

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Besides all the money and fame and bottles of Cristal and hookers and first-class transport and hookers and celebrity luncheons and hookers — besides those things, the best part about running a blog is devising and then utilizing hilarious and/or whimsical tags.

Below is a list of all the tags here at NotGraphs. And also a picture of the bottle of Cristal from which I’m currently drinking. And also a picture of Mark Fidrych — because, duh, Mark Fidrych.

Actual Thing
Apropos of Nothing
Audio and/or Visual
Big Idea
Call to Action
Dick Allen Research Department
Event
Everything’s Amazing
Extry Extry
Feast Days
Food Metaphors
Gaming
Highly Reputable and Totally Real Think Tank
Investigative Reporting Investigation Team
Item
Jersey Edit
Mad Lib
Memorabilia
Naming Names
News About News
Now Playing
Obvious Conspiracy
Old News
Open Letter
Poem
Readings
Received
Self-Help
Shameless Promotion
Site News
True Facts
Uncategorized
Unreliable Source
Website Review
Wisdom

Not always “fun to read” or even “think momentarily about,” our exercise in blasphemy continues today with a minor, but compelling, figure from baseballing lore.

Life: Over a 12-year career with five different teams, largely as a second baseman, the otherwise unspectacular Hunt led the majors in hit-by-pitches for six consecutive years, including a total of 50 HBPs in 1971 — a total surpassed only by Hall of Famer Hughie Jennings‘ mark of 51 in 1896. Despite a lifetime batting average of just .273, only modest power (39 career home runs), and a below-average glove (-40 fielding runs per TotalZone), Hunt retired with a lifetime .368 OBP and 34.4 WAR.

Ritual: To commemorate and recognize Hunt the Hurt, build an entire career off of the strangest possible skill. Go!

Prayer of Hunt the Hurt

So far as anyone knows
you were never forced, Ron Hunt,
to suffer the slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune.
You did, however, suffer
repeated blows to the arm
and back and leg and chest
and probably even the beanbag
on occasion — proving,
for those of us who’d forgotten,
that the line between genius
and the merely foolish
is super, super fine.

Above you see Yankee both-hander Pat Venditte. Yes, Mr. Venditte is a switch-pitcher, which is beautiful and angelic on a number of levels. As someone whose left arm is barely prehensile — it’s more of a lobster claw that on a good day could maybe pen an untraceable ransom note — I am ceaselessly amazed by anyone who can do anything with both hands. But Mr. Venditte can get professional hitters out with both arms, and that, in purely objective terms, is the greatest accomplishment in the annals of human history.

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Mexicutioner no longer.

Let’s go straight to Bob Dutton of the Kansas City Star:

It came as a request sent out on his Twitter account that asked – asked not demanded – that everyone stop referring to him as the Mexicutioner:

“How about we change my nickname to something positive? In support to Mexico to stop all the violence!!!”

Soria, 26, has always been proud of his Mexican heritage. It marked a proud moment in his career, which includes two All-Star selections, when he became the all-time leader in saves by a Mexican-born player.

Of course, I can totally understand where Soria is coming from here. One’s cultural heritage can be very close to one’s heart, and given the dark gang and drug related violence seen in Mexico recently, it’s clear why Soria would like separate the idea of an executioner from his own Mexican heritage.

On the other hand, the nickname “Mexicutioner” is really, really awesome.

So, there are two options. Maybe we could try and find a new nickname for Soria, but I can’t imagine anything can top Mexicutioner. If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them, but I’m drawing blanks (I don’t think I watch the Royals enough to capture something that their fans would identify with).

The other option, as Soria suggests later in the above-linked Star article, is that we could just call him by his name. At this point, Soria has established himself as one of the best closers in the game, and maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t even need a nickname. Who else in baseball has earned the first-name Joakim as an identifying mark? I think Soria is more than good enough to warrant the first name treatment, and the Mexicutioner nickname can be honorably retired.

For the most part, baseball manages to avoid bad weather.  Other sports might tough it out through a monsoon but baseball politely tips it’s cap and says “another day, mother nature.” There is one type of less-than-ideal weather that players and fan do have to tolerate, and that is butt-numbing cold. Last year, Twins fans showed up for opening day and probably came to the horrifying realization that they were about to witness their first outdoor Twins game in 28 years. In April. In Minnesota. Thankfully the temperature was a kind 65 that day, but that isn’t always the case in some baseball towns. Here is a chart of the average temperatures in the colder baseball locales in the opening weeks of baseball, and their percentage of capacity filled during that time (indoor stadiums don’t count, wusses!!!!)

Normally you see a pretty steady trend upwards in attendance as the weather warms up, though there are other factors involved in that trend, such as basketball ending.