Following Jon Lestah's no-no, commentators have lauded Jason Varitek for being first to catch four no-hitters. It's TekWatch's responsibility to make two points:
1. How far is Jason Varitek responsible for a no-hit performance? Depite the furor over Curt Schilling's waving off Varitek before giving up the single that broke up his no-hit bid last year, Lester said he waved off Varitek several times in the ninth inning alone. That said, Varitek has a photographic memory and studies hard, the New York Times reports, although part of the Times's evidence is ostensible sarcasm from Johnny Damon: "I always thought Varitek was amazing — the way he calls a game, the way he prepares, the way he carries around the luggage."
2. Varitek ruined Schilling's no-hit bid last year, tipping pitches to the Athletics' Shannon Stewart, who landed the A's only hit with two out in the ninth. Why? The proof and the motive are one and the same. After every no-hitter he catches, Tek hoists the pitcher high into the air, holding him there so all can see the face of triumph. But, Tek obviously realized, attempting to hoist Curt Schilling, with his marshmallow midsection, could end in embarrassing failure and career-ending injury, if not total paralysis. In tipping off Stewart, Varitek did the only thing he in good conscience could. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how rumors get started.
From everyone at TekWatch, congrats, Jason. You'll always be our Working Class Hero.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Another Blustering Hank
"I still consider myself the home-run king," Henry Aaron said Saturday.
Well. As long as it's cool to make claims that are objectively wrong, I'd like to inform Mr. Aaron: I consider myself the home-run king. Stolen-base champ, too. I am the world's greatest pitcher of all time everywhere.
From Hank Aaron's autobiography: "I was so frustrated that at one point [in the 1968 season] I tried using a pep pill -- a greenie -- that one of my teammates gave me. When that thing took hold, I thought I was having a heart attack." Would Aaron have continued to use amphetamines if they 'd gone down smoother? (That's if he stopped. We'll never know. Baseball didn't have a drug-testing policy then. Unlike in 2004, when Bonds passed his steroids test and hit 45 home runs and was otherwise utterly awesome. Yes, Bonds very likely juiced before then, but let's apply the same standards to everyone and view Bonds's wrongdoing in context.)
Never thought I'd say this, but: Please shut up, Hank Aaron.
Well. As long as it's cool to make claims that are objectively wrong, I'd like to inform Mr. Aaron: I consider myself the home-run king. Stolen-base champ, too. I am the world's greatest pitcher of all time everywhere.
From Hank Aaron's autobiography: "I was so frustrated that at one point [in the 1968 season] I tried using a pep pill -- a greenie -- that one of my teammates gave me. When that thing took hold, I thought I was having a heart attack." Would Aaron have continued to use amphetamines if they 'd gone down smoother? (That's if he stopped. We'll never know. Baseball didn't have a drug-testing policy then. Unlike in 2004, when Bonds passed his steroids test and hit 45 home runs and was otherwise utterly awesome. Yes, Bonds very likely juiced before then, but let's apply the same standards to everyone and view Bonds's wrongdoing in context.)
Never thought I'd say this, but: Please shut up, Hank Aaron.
Friday, May 16, 2008
BushChat: Evidence of Mental Activity Disturbingly Ample
Remember George W. Bush? He's the U.S. President. Known for his quick thinking – so quick it can be mistaken for the total absence of thinking – Bush invaded Iraq because, apparently, God told him to and his gut told him to, which kind of means George W. Bush believes the all-powerful Creator of the Universe resides in his digestive organs.
Bush, you will recall, gained the experience necessary to be Governor of Texas by owning the Texas Rangers. He's not doing much these days, so he was interviewed partly about baseball. Wait, just wait, till you read all his wild claims, his faulty premises, his God-gut thinking on the game of baseball:
Q: Mr. President, you're a Major League Baseball team owner again. Everyone is a free agent. You have a Yankees-like wallet. Who is your first position player? Who's your pitcher?
THE PRESIDENT: That's a great question. I like [Chase Utley] from the Philadelphia Phillies. He's a middle infielder, which is always – you know, they say you have strength up the middle – there's nothing better than having a good person up the middle that can hit. And Roy Halladay from the Toronto Blue Jays is a great pitcher. He's a steady guy, he burns up innings. And I'm sure I'm leaving some other good ones out, but those –
Okay, there's a folksy-sounding phrase about having strength up the middle, and Halladay's injuries in 2004 and 2005 make me project him as less steady than, say, Johan Santana. But Bush's are good picks backed by sound reasoning. Good-hitting middle infielders are rare and therefore particularly valuable if you're picking only one position player, because replacement-level corner basemen hit better than their middle-infielder counterparts. Utley, in particular, is awesome. Halladay wouldn't be my first choice of pitcher, but he's in the discussion. Bush is right that Halladay eats up innings, pitching seven complete games in 2007.
In sum: George W. Bush's brain is awake, and it's eating our President.
Indeed the interviewer, hitherto treated to Bush’s incoherent ravings on politics, was taken aback by the sudden lucidity:
Q: We thought you were going to go A-Rod, Josh Beckett.
THE PRESIDENT: Josh Beckett is good, yes, he's real good, too. I mean, look, that's a tough question to answer on the fly like this, Michael.
That's a tough question to answer on the fly, Bush said. Bush admitted that his knowledge and judgment have limits. He implied he would have to scrutinize evidence, weigh competing arguments, think carefully, in order to make a decision in which he could be confident.
Clearly, this is not George W. Bush. The White House has outfitted an intern with a Bush mask to grant interviews while the real Bush naps wistfully beside his two dogs. "Laugh at your own jokes," they told the intern. "Don't think; just speak. Say freedom a lot."
Alas, on the topic of baseball, the intern’s common sense finally shone through.
(Shamless joke theft: Could this intern be the famous Bill Fremp of Edgewood, KY? Just as Fremp was fired from JoeChat duties at ESPN, Bush suddenly started making sense after eight years of spewing piffle. The coincidence is just too great. Or is Fremp's younger brother Skip expanding the family business? Skip Fremp. Also of Edgewood, KY. Known as the "dumb brother," he didn't attend college. So while Bill landed a job at ESPN, Skip went into politics.)
Q: Now, Mr. President, I wonder if you think that Major League Baseball is doing enough to combat steroids use, and specifically, would you favor a blood test to check for human growth hormone. As you know the players union says it's an unwarranted
THE PRESIDENT: Yes, look, I think what they need to do is to come to an agreement and to assure fans like me that the sport is clean. I mean, I –
Q: But what would that take?
THE PRESIDENT: Well, I haven't studied all the particulars and all the testing.
Again. George W. Bush recognizes the need to study particulars. This from the man who, when warned by Colin Powell as to what could go wrong in an invasion of Iraq, responded: "You know what I just realized – your name is Colin. And your last name rhymes with bowel. You're nearly Colon Bowel! That's so assy." Then he scratched himself and left the room.
But I do know they need to get this era behind them quickly. Baseball is a fabulous sport. I used to say it's a sport played by normal-sized people. It turns out some of these normal-sized people are obviously very strong and very quick, but nevertheless, normal-size – you don't have to be a huge guy to play baseball. And it's a great family sport, and it needs to be cleaned up.
This is starting to sound like the rambly Dubya we know and mock. The main issue reminded him of something else, "normal-sized people," which he began to rant about without reference to the main issue. Anyway, although you don't have to be a huge guy to play good baseball, you certainly can be huge; bulk helps in hitting home runs.
And he never answers the question. Then again, it's a stupid question that's not his business to answer. So bravo, kind of.
Q: And there haven't been enough normal-sized people.
Way to subtly prod him into criticizing baseball for steroid usage. Will the "President" bite?
THE PRESIDENT: Well, there's – yes, there are a lot of normal-sized people. I mean, there's a lot of little dudes who can play the game and play it well.
Nothing doing! Bush/Fremp evades the journalist's gambit, masterfully deploying broken grammar and odd colloquialism to distract us from the thrust of the question!
George W. Bush, Bill or Skip Fremp – whoever you are, you don't fool this citizen.
Bush, you will recall, gained the experience necessary to be Governor of Texas by owning the Texas Rangers. He's not doing much these days, so he was interviewed partly about baseball. Wait, just wait, till you read all his wild claims, his faulty premises, his God-gut thinking on the game of baseball:
Q: Mr. President, you're a Major League Baseball team owner again. Everyone is a free agent. You have a Yankees-like wallet. Who is your first position player? Who's your pitcher?
THE PRESIDENT: That's a great question. I like [Chase Utley] from the Philadelphia Phillies. He's a middle infielder, which is always – you know, they say you have strength up the middle – there's nothing better than having a good person up the middle that can hit. And Roy Halladay from the Toronto Blue Jays is a great pitcher. He's a steady guy, he burns up innings. And I'm sure I'm leaving some other good ones out, but those –
Okay, there's a folksy-sounding phrase about having strength up the middle, and Halladay's injuries in 2004 and 2005 make me project him as less steady than, say, Johan Santana. But Bush's are good picks backed by sound reasoning. Good-hitting middle infielders are rare and therefore particularly valuable if you're picking only one position player, because replacement-level corner basemen hit better than their middle-infielder counterparts. Utley, in particular, is awesome. Halladay wouldn't be my first choice of pitcher, but he's in the discussion. Bush is right that Halladay eats up innings, pitching seven complete games in 2007.
In sum: George W. Bush's brain is awake, and it's eating our President.
Indeed the interviewer, hitherto treated to Bush’s incoherent ravings on politics, was taken aback by the sudden lucidity:
Q: We thought you were going to go A-Rod, Josh Beckett.
THE PRESIDENT: Josh Beckett is good, yes, he's real good, too. I mean, look, that's a tough question to answer on the fly like this, Michael.
That's a tough question to answer on the fly, Bush said. Bush admitted that his knowledge and judgment have limits. He implied he would have to scrutinize evidence, weigh competing arguments, think carefully, in order to make a decision in which he could be confident.
Clearly, this is not George W. Bush. The White House has outfitted an intern with a Bush mask to grant interviews while the real Bush naps wistfully beside his two dogs. "Laugh at your own jokes," they told the intern. "Don't think; just speak. Say freedom a lot."
Alas, on the topic of baseball, the intern’s common sense finally shone through.
(Shamless joke theft: Could this intern be the famous Bill Fremp of Edgewood, KY? Just as Fremp was fired from JoeChat duties at ESPN, Bush suddenly started making sense after eight years of spewing piffle. The coincidence is just too great. Or is Fremp's younger brother Skip expanding the family business? Skip Fremp. Also of Edgewood, KY. Known as the "dumb brother," he didn't attend college. So while Bill landed a job at ESPN, Skip went into politics.)
Q: Now, Mr. President, I wonder if you think that Major League Baseball is doing enough to combat steroids use, and specifically, would you favor a blood test to check for human growth hormone. As you know the players union says it's an unwarranted
THE PRESIDENT: Yes, look, I think what they need to do is to come to an agreement and to assure fans like me that the sport is clean. I mean, I –
Q: But what would that take?
THE PRESIDENT: Well, I haven't studied all the particulars and all the testing.
Again. George W. Bush recognizes the need to study particulars. This from the man who, when warned by Colin Powell as to what could go wrong in an invasion of Iraq, responded: "You know what I just realized – your name is Colin. And your last name rhymes with bowel. You're nearly Colon Bowel! That's so assy." Then he scratched himself and left the room.
But I do know they need to get this era behind them quickly. Baseball is a fabulous sport. I used to say it's a sport played by normal-sized people. It turns out some of these normal-sized people are obviously very strong and very quick, but nevertheless, normal-size – you don't have to be a huge guy to play baseball. And it's a great family sport, and it needs to be cleaned up.
This is starting to sound like the rambly Dubya we know and mock. The main issue reminded him of something else, "normal-sized people," which he began to rant about without reference to the main issue. Anyway, although you don't have to be a huge guy to play good baseball, you certainly can be huge; bulk helps in hitting home runs.
And he never answers the question. Then again, it's a stupid question that's not his business to answer. So bravo, kind of.
Q: And there haven't been enough normal-sized people.
Way to subtly prod him into criticizing baseball for steroid usage. Will the "President" bite?
THE PRESIDENT: Well, there's – yes, there are a lot of normal-sized people. I mean, there's a lot of little dudes who can play the game and play it well.
Nothing doing! Bush/Fremp evades the journalist's gambit, masterfully deploying broken grammar and odd colloquialism to distract us from the thrust of the question!
George W. Bush, Bill or Skip Fremp – whoever you are, you don't fool this citizen.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Forget 500 Homers -- This Is Better
Moments ago, Manny Ramirez made a spectacular over-the-shoulder catch to rob the Orioles of a two-run extra-base hit, climbed the outfield wall and high-fived a Red Sox fan, and threw the ball into the infield to complete a double play. In that order. Let me repeat: he high-fived a fan in the middle of making a double play. That is so incredibly awesomely cool.
UPDATE:
"That's how you get your All-Star vote," Manny said. "I'm pretty sure that guy is going to vote for me. You get your votes one at a time. It's something that came out. I went hard into the wall and I decided not to try to stop before the wall. It was fun. I loved it."
Said center fielder Jonathan Van Every: "I don't think that's ever happened before, and I don't think it will ever happen again."
UPDATE:
"That's how you get your All-Star vote," Manny said. "I'm pretty sure that guy is going to vote for me. You get your votes one at a time. It's something that came out. I went hard into the wall and I decided not to try to stop before the wall. It was fun. I loved it."
Said center fielder Jonathan Van Every: "I don't think that's ever happened before, and I don't think it will ever happen again."
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Failure Is Harder When You Suck
It wasn’t nice when the middle school bullies made fun of the retarded kids, so it may be unfair of me to pick apart a column by Kevin Millar. And yet.
The thing that separates the Major League player from your collegiate guys or the ones that are still in the Minor Leagues is how we deal with struggles and deal with getting out on a daily basis. If you get 500 at-bats in a season and you get out 350 times, you need to deal with failure 350 times. That could be a lineout, a robbed home run or a strikeout.
Kevin Millar, your facial hair is cute, as is the fact that you bat cleanup at age 590, albeit on a terrible lineup. But you are bum-fuck backwards here. Major leaguers are major leaguers because they are the most talented players. They actually need to be less good at dealing with failure than minor leaguers, because they fail less. And when they do fail, life looks less bad. Which situation is more conducive to level-headedness:
A. Major leaguer: I struck out. Still, I’m making $4 million per year to play baseball, and my hot wife will fuck me tonight.
B. Minor leaguer: I struck out. I’m making $25 a year. My girlfriend just left me for a plumber. And she was ugly. Minor leaguers need to be outrageously good at failing.
I truly believe that this game is 70 percent mental. We all can throw and we all can hit at this level. What separates the great players from the common players is the mental side of it and the ability to not deviate from your plan on a daily basis.
So the way to be Barry Bonds is to think: I will hit home runs. I will hit home runs. And not deviate from this plan when anyone reminds you, you’re Julio Lugo and you’re lucky you're in fucking baseball. Or when they fire you for striking out in 95 percent of your at bats.
The great players stay in the batter’s box after third strikes so they can keep swinging; they don’t let some self-proclaimed umpire tell them their plan didn’t work.
Seriously: Why not note that major league success is significantly a function of natural talent? What’s the hangup with acknowledging the pretty obvious truth?
Personally, when I go through struggles, I know there are more eyes on me…I try to run harder on popups, because I think it looks 10 times worse when a guy is struggling and he starts to dog it. When a guy's struggling and giving you 100 percent, you can't really say anything.
When a guy’s struggling and giving 100 percent, one can justly say a variety of things, such as: You suck. You’re benched. You’re fired.
Hey, you don’t think Millar, having said that success in the major leagues results mostly from all-out effort, will do something nutty and say effort can hurt you and never explain the difference between effective effort and ineffective effort? Nah, me neither. Until:
But sometimes, all that extra effort even works against you. You can try too hard, and then it snowballs on you. You're trying harder, then you look up at the scoreboard and you've gotten two hits in a week. Guys go through struggles where they haven't hit a home run in 100 at-bats, but they're trying to hit five home runs in one game.
Okay then. Players, in Millar’s view, need to moderate their effort level to suit their talent level, so that they’re not trying to hit home runs when it’s unrealistic to expect such an outcome. Natural talent sneaks in Millar’s framework. Julio Lugo is fucked.
I snapped in high school. I threw stuff. I used to tear my helmet and my batting gloves off. But when I got to the big league level, I used to watch teammates of mine, like Jim Eisenreich and Gary Sheffield, handle themselves like professionals. When they struck out, the batting gloves came off and the helmet went back in the box. They never threw anything.
Gary Sheffield? Professional?
Gary Sheffield? Professional?
- September '92 on his days in Milwaukee: "The Brewers brought out the hate in me. I was a crazy man. . . . I hated everything about the place. If the official scorer gave me an error, I didn't think was an error, I'd say, 'OK, here's a real error,' and I'd throw the next ball into the stands on purpose.'"
- July '05 after punching a fan in the right-field stands at Fenway: “What did I do to be a villain?" Sheffield listened patiently as someone recounted the reasoning. "Well, I mean you can't look at it that way. I didn't initiate it. It's a situation where I showed restraint, and I moved on from there."
- On his having two kids with two women by age 17: "That was part of my plan. I didn't want to be the typical athlete who's single all his career. I wanted the all-American family, and I did it the wrong way."
- There is so much more.
One of the two guys to whom Millar points as a paragon of professionalism punched a fan. He punched the fan at Fenway, when Millar was on the Red Sox!
Here's a logic puzzle:
Premise 1: Sheffield punched a fan at Fenway in 2005.
Premise 2: Millar was on the Red Sox in 2005.
Premise 3: The Red Sox play at Fenway.
Premise 4: Okay, Millar definitely played in the game in which Sheff swiped at the fan.
Conclusion: What the fuck, dude?
[Orioles Manager] Dave Trembley's done a great job of understanding that April is just the first month of a six-month season. He understands that April's not a fun month on the East Coast anyway. You can count on three fingers how many games we've played in 80 degrees, and Dave Trembley's done a great job of showing confidence in players through their struggles.
Millar is obviously talking about his own struggles and Trembley’s dubious decision to keep Millar in the cleanup hole while Millar gets to first base less often than Bill Gates in high school.
The Orioles played remarkably well in April, with a W-L of 15-11. At that pace, they’d win 93 games and be the biggest surprise possibly ever. Of course, they won’t maintain such a pace. It’s either because they don’t have the talent or because they don’t think of ponies and rainbows when they come to bat. Not sure which. Let’s take a vote:
Me: talent.
Millar: ponies et al.
I win.
You just keep fighting, and overall, this club has really handled itself great through its struggles.
Millar, you have struggled. The Orioles have done incredibly well. Why do I get the sense you go home after every game only to cry, masturbate, and cry more?
Millar’s musings continue in like fashion. I’m hungry, and willing food to appear on my desk isn’t working.
The thing that separates the Major League player from your collegiate guys or the ones that are still in the Minor Leagues is how we deal with struggles and deal with getting out on a daily basis. If you get 500 at-bats in a season and you get out 350 times, you need to deal with failure 350 times. That could be a lineout, a robbed home run or a strikeout.
Kevin Millar, your facial hair is cute, as is the fact that you bat cleanup at age 590, albeit on a terrible lineup. But you are bum-fuck backwards here. Major leaguers are major leaguers because they are the most talented players. They actually need to be less good at dealing with failure than minor leaguers, because they fail less. And when they do fail, life looks less bad. Which situation is more conducive to level-headedness:
A. Major leaguer: I struck out. Still, I’m making $4 million per year to play baseball, and my hot wife will fuck me tonight.
B. Minor leaguer: I struck out. I’m making $25 a year. My girlfriend just left me for a plumber. And she was ugly. Minor leaguers need to be outrageously good at failing.
I truly believe that this game is 70 percent mental. We all can throw and we all can hit at this level. What separates the great players from the common players is the mental side of it and the ability to not deviate from your plan on a daily basis.
So the way to be Barry Bonds is to think: I will hit home runs. I will hit home runs. And not deviate from this plan when anyone reminds you, you’re Julio Lugo and you’re lucky you're in fucking baseball. Or when they fire you for striking out in 95 percent of your at bats.
The great players stay in the batter’s box after third strikes so they can keep swinging; they don’t let some self-proclaimed umpire tell them their plan didn’t work.
Seriously: Why not note that major league success is significantly a function of natural talent? What’s the hangup with acknowledging the pretty obvious truth?
Personally, when I go through struggles, I know there are more eyes on me…I try to run harder on popups, because I think it looks 10 times worse when a guy is struggling and he starts to dog it. When a guy's struggling and giving you 100 percent, you can't really say anything.
When a guy’s struggling and giving 100 percent, one can justly say a variety of things, such as: You suck. You’re benched. You’re fired.
Hey, you don’t think Millar, having said that success in the major leagues results mostly from all-out effort, will do something nutty and say effort can hurt you and never explain the difference between effective effort and ineffective effort? Nah, me neither. Until:
But sometimes, all that extra effort even works against you. You can try too hard, and then it snowballs on you. You're trying harder, then you look up at the scoreboard and you've gotten two hits in a week. Guys go through struggles where they haven't hit a home run in 100 at-bats, but they're trying to hit five home runs in one game.
Okay then. Players, in Millar’s view, need to moderate their effort level to suit their talent level, so that they’re not trying to hit home runs when it’s unrealistic to expect such an outcome. Natural talent sneaks in Millar’s framework. Julio Lugo is fucked.
I snapped in high school. I threw stuff. I used to tear my helmet and my batting gloves off. But when I got to the big league level, I used to watch teammates of mine, like Jim Eisenreich and Gary Sheffield, handle themselves like professionals. When they struck out, the batting gloves came off and the helmet went back in the box. They never threw anything.
Gary Sheffield? Professional?
Gary Sheffield? Professional?
- September '92 on his days in Milwaukee: "The Brewers brought out the hate in me. I was a crazy man. . . . I hated everything about the place. If the official scorer gave me an error, I didn't think was an error, I'd say, 'OK, here's a real error,' and I'd throw the next ball into the stands on purpose.'"
- July '05 after punching a fan in the right-field stands at Fenway: “What did I do to be a villain?" Sheffield listened patiently as someone recounted the reasoning. "Well, I mean you can't look at it that way. I didn't initiate it. It's a situation where I showed restraint, and I moved on from there."
- On his having two kids with two women by age 17: "That was part of my plan. I didn't want to be the typical athlete who's single all his career. I wanted the all-American family, and I did it the wrong way."
- There is so much more.
One of the two guys to whom Millar points as a paragon of professionalism punched a fan. He punched the fan at Fenway, when Millar was on the Red Sox!
Here's a logic puzzle:
Premise 1: Sheffield punched a fan at Fenway in 2005.
Premise 2: Millar was on the Red Sox in 2005.
Premise 3: The Red Sox play at Fenway.
Premise 4: Okay, Millar definitely played in the game in which Sheff swiped at the fan.
Conclusion: What the fuck, dude?
[Orioles Manager] Dave Trembley's done a great job of understanding that April is just the first month of a six-month season. He understands that April's not a fun month on the East Coast anyway. You can count on three fingers how many games we've played in 80 degrees, and Dave Trembley's done a great job of showing confidence in players through their struggles.
Millar is obviously talking about his own struggles and Trembley’s dubious decision to keep Millar in the cleanup hole while Millar gets to first base less often than Bill Gates in high school.
The Orioles played remarkably well in April, with a W-L of 15-11. At that pace, they’d win 93 games and be the biggest surprise possibly ever. Of course, they won’t maintain such a pace. It’s either because they don’t have the talent or because they don’t think of ponies and rainbows when they come to bat. Not sure which. Let’s take a vote:
Me: talent.
Millar: ponies et al.
I win.
You just keep fighting, and overall, this club has really handled itself great through its struggles.
Millar, you have struggled. The Orioles have done incredibly well. Why do I get the sense you go home after every game only to cry, masturbate, and cry more?
Millar’s musings continue in like fashion. I’m hungry, and willing food to appear on my desk isn’t working.
Monday, May 12, 2008
A Minor Correction...
Buried near the back of this otherwise fine article is the following sentence:
"Congratulations to Greg Maddux, who got his 350 victories the old fashioned way. As opposed to Roger Clemens."
Now, by the "old fashioned way" I assume he means without steroids. If so, then he in fact could not be more wrong.
"Congratulations to Greg Maddux, who got his 350 victories the old fashioned way. As opposed to Roger Clemens."
Now, by the "old fashioned way" I assume he means without steroids. If so, then he in fact could not be more wrong.
Friday, May 9, 2008
This Can't Happen
John Sterling, the "voice of the Yankees," announcing the Yankees-Tigers game on May 9, 2008, at 7:29 p.m., after recounting the Tigers' immense pitching woes, stated: "And they're not hitting; that's why they have the [dismal] record they have."
At that moment, the Tigers were third in the American League in runs scored, second in on-base percentage, fourth in slugging, and, in case you want to take Sterling very literally,
fourth in hits. Out of 14 teams. Here's MLB.com's chart of AL offense, captured a few minutes after Sterling spoke.
Perhaps the Tigers' lineup is so stacked that it has somewhat underperformed relative to talent. But clearly, Sterling is dead wrong. The Tigers have a bad record despite their effective offense.
Does it matter? In a world where genocide rages, a billion people live on less than $1 a day, and other things happen that Angelia Jolie is working indefatigably to correct, one is tempted to say: let John Sterling's goofy ass emit what it wants. At the same time, truth is inseparable. Seeking and telling the truth about one thing is no different from seeking and telling the truth about something else, because truth is, or so I think, valuable for its own sake rather than for any byproducts it may bring.
The baseball announcer's responsibility is to transmit accurate, insightful information about baseball games. Sterling said the Tigers are hitting poorly, which is false by any standard. He's more likely bullshitting than lying, failing to check whether his utterances are true. Checking being an easy, ten-second endeavor, the inescapable conclusion is that Sterling doesn't much care about the truth and doesn't take his responsibilities seriously. That can't be good for baseball. That can't be good in any other realm. At the least, such untruths insult fans and should embarrass if not Sterling himself then the Yankees organization to whom he is supposed to be accountable.
At that moment, the Tigers were third in the American League in runs scored, second in on-base percentage, fourth in slugging, and, in case you want to take Sterling very literally,
fourth in hits. Out of 14 teams. Here's MLB.com's chart of AL offense, captured a few minutes after Sterling spoke.Perhaps the Tigers' lineup is so stacked that it has somewhat underperformed relative to talent. But clearly, Sterling is dead wrong. The Tigers have a bad record despite their effective offense.
Does it matter? In a world where genocide rages, a billion people live on less than $1 a day, and other things happen that Angelia Jolie is working indefatigably to correct, one is tempted to say: let John Sterling's goofy ass emit what it wants. At the same time, truth is inseparable. Seeking and telling the truth about one thing is no different from seeking and telling the truth about something else, because truth is, or so I think, valuable for its own sake rather than for any byproducts it may bring.
The baseball announcer's responsibility is to transmit accurate, insightful information about baseball games. Sterling said the Tigers are hitting poorly, which is false by any standard. He's more likely bullshitting than lying, failing to check whether his utterances are true. Checking being an easy, ten-second endeavor, the inescapable conclusion is that Sterling doesn't much care about the truth and doesn't take his responsibilities seriously. That can't be good for baseball. That can't be good in any other realm. At the least, such untruths insult fans and should embarrass if not Sterling himself then the Yankees organization to whom he is supposed to be accountable.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Alex Rodriguez Is A Fearsome, Hulking Pussy
While news of A-Rod's fainting during the delivery of his child has united Yankees and Red Sox fans in mockery, another juicy nugget has gone less noticed. Here's how A-Rod describes meeting his future robo-wife Cynthia, at a Miami gym: "I scouted her out for a month....I wanted to see her routine, and I wanted to see what time she came in, see how consistent she was. And sure enough, she was like a machine. She would come in right after work and get on the treadmill and do her abs. And finally, I build enough courage after about 3 1/2 weeks. And I said, 'I know you are going to go do some abs after, and do you mind if I join you?'"
In 1996, the year he met Cynthia, A-Rod finished second in MVP voting, OPSing 1.045. He barely had the balls just to approach this Godzilla woman. I'm an 80-year-old fictional TV character and I'll hit on any 23-year-old chick my nearsighted eyes allow me to spot. My prostate is the size of a grapefruit. I don't know I've urinated until my feet feel wet. A-Rod, by contrast, was a drippingly virile 20 years of age, poised to earn hundreds of millions of dollars. American dollars. A-Rod has no game whatsoever.
In the time it takes A-Rod to introduce himself to a woman, Derek Jeter would fuck her and her hot friends, give them all herpes, and obtain a restraining order against them, not because
they were stalking him but just because he didn't want to accidentally run into them and re-fuck them when he could plow so many new fine pieces of ass.
Even when he's moving on two women at once, A-Rod looks like he's hoping to impress them enough so they will agree to see his collection of model trains.
In 1996, the year he met Cynthia, A-Rod finished second in MVP voting, OPSing 1.045. He barely had the balls just to approach this Godzilla woman. I'm an 80-year-old fictional TV character and I'll hit on any 23-year-old chick my nearsighted eyes allow me to spot. My prostate is the size of a grapefruit. I don't know I've urinated until my feet feel wet. A-Rod, by contrast, was a drippingly virile 20 years of age, poised to earn hundreds of millions of dollars. American dollars. A-Rod has no game whatsoever.
In the time it takes A-Rod to introduce himself to a woman, Derek Jeter would fuck her and her hot friends, give them all herpes, and obtain a restraining order against them, not because
they were stalking him but just because he didn't want to accidentally run into them and re-fuck them when he could plow so many new fine pieces of ass.Even when he's moving on two women at once, A-Rod looks like he's hoping to impress them enough so they will agree to see his collection of model trains.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Curt Schilling: Profiles in Laziness
So lazy is Curt Schilling qua blogger that in praising Blue Jays pitcher Dustin McGowan -- "The McGowen (sp?) kid has as electric an arm as any young pitcher in the game" -- Schilling decided to leave things at "(sp?)" rather than look the name up. Schilling knew he didn't know how to spell the guy's name. This lack of knowledge bothered Schilling. But instead of finding the correct spelling by, say, searching for "McGowen Jays," a feat that Google performs in exactly .55 seconds, Schilling decided to proclaim to the world "(sp?) -- I feel it's incumbent upon me, as a responsible blogger, to admit I don't know something yet not incumbent upon me to expend the one half-second of effort needed to acquire that knowledge."
Most people would act to correct their misspelling as soon as the misspelling became known to them. Curt Schilling is one of the few people in the world for whom a middle ground of acknowledging but not correcting such minor inaccuracies even exists. When he passes on, Curt Schilling's brain should be flown to Switzerland under military escort so teams of doctors can study its every nook.
"Fritz, it turns out there's a gene for sanctimony."
(Also, random commenter "rachelciprotti" corrects Schilling's spelling of the name of his own teammate: "FYI: It’s Jon Lester, not John =).")
Most people would act to correct their misspelling as soon as the misspelling became known to them. Curt Schilling is one of the few people in the world for whom a middle ground of acknowledging but not correcting such minor inaccuracies even exists. When he passes on, Curt Schilling's brain should be flown to Switzerland under military escort so teams of doctors can study its every nook.
"Fritz, it turns out there's a gene for sanctimony."
(Also, random commenter "rachelciprotti" corrects Schilling's spelling of the name of his own teammate: "FYI: It’s Jon Lester, not John =).")
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