When I lie, people call me a liar. It’s part of this whole
thing I do called “living in the real world.” I’m not saying I lie
all that often but when I do, I expect to get called out on it. However, it
would be kind of nice, just for once, to live in another world. A world where
words don’t necessarily mean what the dictionary says they mean and where I can
spin the events and claim that the usual consequences don’t apply to me. You
too? You want to live in this world? Well, come with me as we tour of a few of
these magical lands.
“I thought they were vitamins.” “Really? It wasn’t just some
sort of magical cream/ointment?” “Sure, I’ve always taken estrogen
hormone therapy. Doesn’t everyone?”
And the list goes on.
Major League Baseball players have a somewhat impressive track record when it
comes to PED prevarications. And the longer this slow leak of names and
offenses takes, the more ridiculous the excuses will become.
However, that’s the beauty of living in a land like this. You never have to
face the truth. You know that MLB is going to slap you with a fine or a
suspension, you either pay it or serve it and then you’re back to doing what
you do best. No silly, not hitting home runs. Finding new ways to beat the
system by masking the drugs you’re taking.
Many, many people live in this fantasy land where nothing is ever quite what it
seems. However, one of the more recent newly minted citizens seems to be
carving out his own space and setting the foundations (or lack thereof) of an
enormous castle built almost entirely on sand.
Now, if you follow politics, you know that John Ensign used to be a
fire-breathing dragon of the Newt Gingrich led Republican Revolution. And he
was so personally affronted by Bill Clinton’s “low morals” in the
Monica Lewinsky affair that he helped push through the president’s impeachment
and urged him to resign since his actions meant he could no longer be an
However, it appears that screwing
the wife of one of your best friends and then having your family pay her hush
money so she won’t talk about it is somehow different. Yes, my friends,
only in this fantastical land can you justify adultery by claiming it’s not the
same thing because you “didn’t perjure yourself.” I wonder how that
excuse would fly for me?
Join me next week as we continue our tour with a couple fantastical lands that
could only spring from one delusional and mildly sociopathic man. That’s
right, next week we visit the mind of Jeffery Lung and I feel it’s only right
that I warn you in advance: It’s not a pretty thing. You might want to make
sure that any young children leave the room.
When did Brad Lidge become such an object of disdain for this blog? I mean, Kyle Farnsworth I can understand because, well, because he’s Kyle Farnsworth. But Lidge? Yeah, maybe he’s not having a stellar season but after what he did last year, the guy deserves a little bit of a break.
Now, maybe this is easier for me to say because, as a Tigers’ fan, I routinely have to deal with the endless frustration that is Brandon Lyon and Fernando Rodney. I thought that Todd Jones’ retirement meant I wouldn’t have to sit on the edge of my seat anymore when we had a one-run lead in the ninth inning.
But Brad Lidge? He’s not even a Cub! I get the hatred and disgust for Milton Bradley. I approve of and advocate more of the same for Farnsworth. But Lidge? Nah. He’s no Mitch Williams. He’s not really any sort of appropriate object for scorn.
So, Mr. Lung, what gives? Why don’t you tell us what’s really going on? Did Brad Lidge not sign your baseball card? Did you write him a fan letter and he didn’t respond? Or maybe a love letter and he blew you off? Inquiring minds want to know.
Besides Chinatown flea markets and the out-of-this-world chili at Ramova Grill, the best part about living on the Southside of Chicago is having the White Sox play in my own backyard.
Because as a Cardinals fan far removed from my old Busch Stadium stomping grounds, I know I can always find good, learned, baseball-lovin’ folk at New Comiskey (only newbies and yuppies call it The Cell — so I’m told).
And on Monday night, Southsiders came out to the park in droves. It was hot. It was humid. The rain was coming down hard. But Mark Buehrle was on the mound and it’s no secret that White Sox fans love them some Mark Buehrle. Over 36,000 people came out to see him duel the Royals’ Brian Bannister… yes, 36,000! On a Monday night. With an hour long rain delayed start. Against the Royals.
Now that, dear readers, is some serious dedication.
Perhaps the influx of fans was due to the high hopes of a pitcher’s duel.
Well, we didn’t get it.
‘Cuz when Yuniesky Betancourt goes yard, you know the pitching ain’t so great.
Indeed, it was a back and forth battle throughout, until the Sox broke it open in the 7th inning and appeared to have the game in hand.
But Scott Linebrink seemed focused on tempting the Royals’ scouts, who seem to go after the poorest of performers. Yes, Linebrink’s Kyle Farnsworth impression was brilliantly played by blowing a 3 run lead in the 8th on a Mike Jacobs rocket launch over the right field wall.
Fade to black?
Not so fast. Alex Rios walked to start the bottom of the 8th. Scott Podsednik continued his 2005 renaissance with a go-ahead run-scoring double… and then later Ozzie Guillen brought in the Fat Man to seal the deal.
Sure, it was a great game and all… but the whole time I couldn’t take my eyes off the guy sitting in front of me:
Don’t hate ’em ‘cuz they’re right.
Don’t believe me? Just ask Kevin Gregg.
…he would look a lot like this:
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Lidge has lost his, er… charm.
Phillies fans the world over are begging for a Gray Davis like recall.
Might the Governator have a hard slider?
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(*Images courtesy of “F”yeahairconditioners.tumblr.com — MLBlogs will not allow me to link to it due to adult language in the site’s URL. You’ll have to use logic to find the site yourself or check the link on our other page.)
Indeed, Mr. Krause and I may be seedy scoundrels, but believe it or not, we actually respect the creative ingenuity of other people, so much so that we would never steal ideas from another valiant force. Of course, we also do subscribe to the ethics of reciprocity, and encourage everyone to do the same. We are US Americans! Rejoice in the merits of thy brethren yo!
The entry to which dear reader Josh refers can be found *here*, and the contest sported by the Fantasy Baseball Dugout pitting the most attractive baseball players’ wives is still going on *here*. Stop by and make your, er… voice heard before August 31.
But since it is no secret that Mr. Krause and I have the propensity to feature the aesthetics of beautiful women here at RSBS, I bring you a very special treat.
I am a child of the ’80s. When I revert back to that happy place in the sky, it involves a lot of Duran Duran, Ozzie Smith back-flips and the original Star Wars trilogy. Now, as a grownup (sorta) it also involves… well, let me just show you that perfect storm:
“Even I get boarded sometimes.”
Hate me ‘cuz I say what you’re thinking, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
***SEND US YOUR FILIBUSTERS****
Something on your mind? Want to see Jeff and Al sweat (separately, not together, eww)? Think you got a real stumper? Send us your Filibuster question(s) by commenting or emailing them to us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
***Pictures of Prince Fielder in skinny jeans also welcome, but of course, there ain’t no such thang.
At the end of last week’s thrilling Filibuster, I asked (as usual) for more dear reader questions… and — if possible — pictures of journeyman screw-up Sidney Ponson not under the influence.
Hilarious, I know.
Hilarious because, indeed, it was just a throw-away quip… a nonsensical one-off… a friggin’ jape.
But boy was I surprised when our inbox actually received a picture of Sidney which shows him to be in complete control of his own cognizance.
Special thanks to Mary Retallick (pictured right, whom you can often find on Gateway Redbirds Forum) for sending this to our attention… and special, special thanks to you, Mary, for sending it with the subject line: Picture of Sidney Ponson sober.
‘Cuz that is funny.
Not only do you “get it”, you also got us, making us full-fledged believers in other mythical creatures like Bigfoot, Skunk Ape and a well-spoken G.W. Bush.
And to a man (that’s you, Sidney) more accustomed to hearing the words “designated for assignment” than “we would like to offer you a contract extension”, this post is most assuredly a sign of better things to come.
Yeah. You got me. I’m totally lying.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right, Sidney.
Baseball has gotten in the way of my love life before, but never like this.
While the following clip makes me wish I didn’t have a job so I could stay home and watch this type of crap all day long (and believe me, I would), let it also be a warning to ye baseball fans who put the game ahead of your boo (or boos, plural).
I wonder if Jim Leyritz had a similar problem.
Hate me ‘cuz I love me some chicken tetrazzini, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right!
It’s the bottom of the fifth inning. The Cubs are getting killed by the Phillies. The bases are loaded and a high pop fly is hit to center field where Shane Victorino gets in position, sets himself to catch the ball and — SPLASH! — some idiot Cub fan in the bleachers tosses a beer down on the Flyin’ Hawaiian’s head.
What in the sam hell is goin’ on here? Is it Do Something Stupid a la Glenn Beck night again at Wrigley?
Nope. Just another day at the ironically coined “Friendly” Confines.
Victorino catches the ball anyway and tosses it back into the infield… but he is obviously rattled by the bush league shenanigans synonymous with the Cub faithful.
Yeah, yeah, a couple of not-so-intimidating ushers rushed down and apparently forced someone to leave… but was it the actual culprit whom they shooed away? Replays make me wonder. And was anything done to curb this type of innate dereliction? Why, of course not! This is what you get when you go to Wrigley Field: complete asinine behavior!
Look, I have done more than a lifetime’s worth of Cub-bashing on this site. I know this. And I don’t particularly like doing it. I like to believe that I am fair in my critique because look, I get it: Not all Cub fans are delinquents (just the majority) and I even I get tired of saying the same things over and over again…
But somehow, some way, some day, I like to think this idiocy will eventually come to an end.
Though until we reach that day that will never come, Shane Victorino, no one will blame you for joining Jesus in his 100+ year plight:
There is a reason why Jesus hates the Cubs.
And pouring beer on an All-Star centerfielder while the ball is in play barely scratches the surface.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m relentless, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(*Image courtesy of Getty Images via Yahoo)
Just as the homerun he gave up to Albert Pujols during the 2005 NLCS finally falls back to earth, so too does Brad Lidge’s status as an elite Major League closer. Having notched his seventh blown save of the season (by giving up a game-tying single to bonafide bust Milton Bradley no less), Lidge forces us to ask the serious question:
Who in the world is going to be fooled by that low and away slider when you throw it on the first pitch?
And then, I gotta follow up by asking:
Who in the world is going to be fooled by that right-down-central fastball you are forced to throw after they don’t swing at the low and away slider early in the count?
There was a time (it was just last year actually) when Brad Lidge was one of the most feared pitchers in the league. Nowadays he’s looking more and more like Mitch Williams circa 1997 (or Kevin Gregg today — in both cases, it ain’t good).
Lidge lucked out in that his team won it in extras but that doesn’t change the fact that he gave Cardinal fans the type of heart attack once only attributable to prospective hunting trips led by Dick Cheney (no, that will never get old). The Phillies, this year, have proven over and over again that there ain’t no such thing as a sure thing and Lidge’s once-devastating slider is definitely not a sure thing.
You want a sure thing?
Bet on an MMA fight looking at least kinda gay.
Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.