One thing we all have in common, apart from a deep and abiding desire to see Ben Bernanke wear a funny hat, is that each of us came into being without the benefit of a name, at least until such time that our guardians – or, in the case of Vlad the Impaler, our prophetic marketing executives – supplied us with the “nominal support” we’d eventually need while waiting for our vanilla lattes at Starbucks, because if there’s anything that creates havoc, it’s 26 patrons answering to “Hey, you.” What I’m saying is that somebody slapped a name on you, and unless you’re Vin Diesel – in which case Hi, Mr. Diesel! Love your work! – you still sign that name to birthday cards and death threats, which isn’t particularly smart because if you are anything like me, many of those threats are directed at Vlad the Impaler, who, though very much dead, actually answers to the name “Scooter.”

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In other words:

At least Harvey’s fall will be quite cushioned.

It’s a sentiment shared by all the big philosophers, probably, that happiness and mental well-being are the province of those who recognize their myriad shortcomings. To what degree happiness and mental well-being are the province of the OC Register’s Jeff Fletcher, the present author is unable to comment. That he (i.e. Fletcher) recognizes at least one of his shortcomings, however, is manifestly the case, as the comment attached to his lousy spring-training photograph suggests. To praise briefly Jeff Fletcher’s conduct, is the purpose of this post.

First of my lousy spring training photos #Angels pic.twitter.com/2itQQBp27s

— Jeff Fletcher (@JeffFletcherOCR) February 13, 2014

True story, I proposed to my now-wife whilst sitting in a booth at Waffle House. I asked her to prom — our first date, many years earlier — on a TI-82 calculator.

We can say one thing: Rays pitcher Alex Cobb does not have the brand of Sexy we here at NotGraphs look for in our writing staff or in our readership. A proposal via dolphin in some stone-strewn alcove as loved ones watch with rapid, thrumming hearts? Pfft. Where’s the character? Where’s the self-loathing lack of confidence? Where’s the syrup?

The fact that Mrs. Future Alex Cobb said yes to this obvious attempt at lifelong memories and romantic foresightfulness further suggests that she too is not material suitable for a NotGraphs writer.

Thanks to DRaysBay for going high school girl on me and sharing this video.

Credit to Les Carter for this essential public health announcement.

I cannot say with any certainty why I drew these.

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It must be the offseason, because this is a top headline on Fox Sports.

Coming up later this week:

MICHAEL BRANTLEY BRUSHES HIS TEETH

RYAN ZIMMERMAN USES SHAMPOO… AND CONDITIONER

SHANE VICTORINO GOES #2

and

MIKE TROUT IS STILL BREATHING

Last week, I bestowed on you the right to subvert Major League Baseball’s stupid Face of MLB twitter contest and choose the real face of Major League Baseball. While the correct choice would have been to refuse to participate in the sham of a democratic process where your candidates were selected for you, and the only real option was preordained, the plurality of you voted for Deranged Joe Mauer. That, I suppose is, is the best non-correct option, so good for the minority of you who acted appropriately and can now, therefor, impose your will on the masses.

Deranged Joe Mauer is the current face of Major League Baseball! Huzzah, I guess.

But, of course, Deranged Joe Mauer has only been the face of baseball for the last few years. There are literally at least a dozen years where he was not even born and people were playing the game. Who was the face of baseball then?

Fortunately, this does not require your input, which would be garbage. The enlightened despot, who has long existed in my imagination, has chosen for you as a means to demonstrate both his benevolence and God-given mandate to lead. For who can deny a leader this wise, kind, and handsome? His choices, dear friends, begin with the start of the World Series era and mark the most important face in the sport. The title belongs to that player for as long as he is in the league, and then passes on to the holder, except for John Martina in 1924, who wrested the title away from Babe Ruth by force (you will see why), and then returned it the following year:

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Current All Stars of Siberian League.

Today was great day in Siberian Baseball League. Due to pleasant weather conditions, only seven games canceled! Here is recap.

In Novokuznetsk, it was close affair, but home team prevailed over Wolves. Not baseball club Wolves — actual wolves, I mean, which invade city with crazy hunger for human flesh.

Due to mining disaster, club from Kemerovo has had trouble recently. Their best player now four-year-old girl. She is maybe to be sold for prostitute, though.

Elsewhere, team from Omsk accidentally go to Tomsk, while team from Tomsk to Omsk. Said best player from Omsk, Jaromir Shlemenko: “God is cruel. Life is terrible. I die now.”

Tomorrow is big game for Novosibirsk. Their best player is on disabled list with addiction to Krokodil.

Below is a map of the Roman Empire upon which are pasted the logos of all 30 Major League Baseball teams. Where they are located on the map corresponds to cities of the Roman Empire. Each city’s distance from Rome in travel days is roughly equivalent to the chance each team has of making the playoffs in 2014. The image is entirely embiggenable and is really only understood in an embiggened state.

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