We live in a world where the status quo says your government will let you down, where an “extra value” meal will cost more than $5 (while including little to no value), where the Pittsburgh Pirates will be a laughing stock.
Dear readers, it is Friday and all of the above make you feel blue.
Enter Tosh. Tosh.0
Bringin’ the heat on the tiniest of Phillies fans:
|Web Redemption – Phillies Fan|
No holds barred… that’s the only way to go, especially so close to beer thirty.
As important as clothing may be to the average person, even more important is the cloth that embraces your “swimsuit area.” There are different schools of thought here, ranging from your father and his single-minded whitey-tighty fanaticism to the homeless guy on the corner free-balling it under a pair of sweatpants for less restricted access.
And there are more exotic schools including the devotees of the boxer-brief (I count myself among them) with all the comfort of a boxer and the stability of a brief, directors of Roman era film epics and their appreciation for the loincloth and Mormons with their ultra-secret special underwear.
My personal feeling, though, is that athletes get the shaft in all of this because there is nothing worse than wearing a cup. Do you think baseball players are constantly adjusting themselves because they think it looks cool? No way, man. Playing with yourself in public is not cool anywhere (except certain clubs in Thailand). Those cups hurt. Sensitive areas constantly being pinched, awkward one-size-fits-all sizing that doesn’t really fit anyone and the thing never stays in one place. Granted, when it comes down to choosing between comfort and the ability to reproduce, 9 times out of 10 RSBS picks comfort. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s an imperfect solution to a very real problem.
If only we could all just be comfortable in our underclothing. For instance, even if comfort isn’t the stated aim of this current American Apparel campaign, that’s the lesson we have decided to take from it anyway. No, don’t thank us. We’re just doing our job.
The interwebs are a buzz about RSBS‘ propensity for picking on what seems like only a select few players/teams, for striking at those more prone to ridicule, the bottom of the baseball barrel. We’re talking about the Kyle Farnsworths, Brad Lidges, Milton Bradleys. We’re talking about the Chicago Cubs, Pittsburgh Pirates, Kansas City Royals.
We’re talking about easy marks. All of them. They are weak, addled, flawed.
But let it be know that dear readers galore have spoken; and we at RSBS are not ones to disappoint. So here ya go, folks… a quick slanderous slaying of all 30 Major League Teams… in one minute or less (or more, depending on your reading level):
Hey, Yankees, is that Mo’nique or C.C. Sabathia?…
Boston Red Sox? More like Boston Sucks Cox!…
Dear Rays, I can’t wait until you disappoint all your new fans by letting Carl Crawford go…
Blue Jays, if you were gonna let an Italian destroy your franchise, why not give one of the Gottis a shot?…
I didn’t know the Oriole way included a sharp decline in season ticket sales…
Sorry, Twins, but you’ll never be as good as Kent Hrbek farting in George Brett’s face…
Hey Tigers, remember when people used to live in your city?…
Attending a White Sox game is a lot like attending a vocational school open house…
I think we can all agree that Charlie Sheen could make the 2010 Indians squad…
The Kansas City Royals… did I mention Kyle Farnsworth?…
Oh, sure, I love the California Los Angeles Angels of Los Aneheim California Angeles Los L.A….
The Texas Rangers: Where born again drug addicts find Jesus while not making it to the playoffs…AGAIN…
Wow, Mariners, your most famous player outside of Griffey and Ichiro is… Harold Reynolds? Seriously? Ouch…
A’s… it stands for “moneyball doesn’t work so it’s best we go back to employing known juicers”…
Dear Phillies, if the Phanatic isn’t a phag, I don’t know what mascot is…
Sorry, Marlins… if you’re not cocaine or the Dolphins, Miami doesn’t even know you’re there…
Atlanta Braves…14 straight playoff appearances and how many World Series titles?…
Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Met will now be played by a corpse…
Hey, Nationals, two words for ya: Dunn’s ^ss!…
The Cardinals? The Cardinals!?! You’re… you’re… aweso– you’re… (Sorry, I can’t do it; I tried)…
For insults directed towards the Cubs, please see the 2+ years of RSBS archives
Hey, Brewers, is that Mo’nique or Prince Fielder?…
Just wait, Reds fans, two more years of Dusty Baker, and you won’t even have a pitching staff!…
Houston, we have a problem… and it’s called the Astros…
Yeah, picking on the Pirates is a lot like picking on the quadriplegic fat blind kid whose parents got divorced and forgot they even had a kid…
The Dodgers‘ m.o. is: show up late, leave early, hope no one notices the messy divorce…
Ok, Rockies, Dante Bichette called, he wants his inflated numbers back…
Hey, Giants, is that Mo’nique or — nope, that’s Pablo Sandoval. He’s just fat…
Padres? Friars? Perhaps Molested Altar Boys would be more suiting, considering the amount of back-bending abuse they’ve taken from Sandy Alderson…
The Arizona Diamondbacks? More like the Arizona Diamondhacks!
My vitriolic verbal leg sweeping knows no limit.
So don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
P.S. The Cardinals? Fine. If I must. Here. Have fun with *THIS*.
*also thank you, Matt
In all the hype surrounding spring training we tend to forget one important thing. It’s really freakin’ boring. We want to love it because baseball is back after a long winter hibernation but when you’re dealing with split squads and guys trying to make the roster, it’s not exactly prime entertainment. It’s like preseason football. It gives you a taste of what’s to come but it just isn’t the real thing.
Unfortunately, life is filled with these types of things. You really want something to be great and you really remember it being great but then it’s here and it kind of sucks. Like summer. You spend all winter wishing for the warmth of summer but by the time you’ve sweated through your tenth shirt of the day, you wonder why you ever wished for that. Or you finally get a date with the girl who turned you down in middle school and when you make it in close enough to kiss her, you notice she has a mustache. It’s just wrong.
But I’m here to tell you there’s no reason to despair. Our long, national nightmare has just about come to an end. Soon, real baseball will be played in real stadiums and when the Nationals are 30 games back at the All-Star break you will know that everything is as it should be. Veronica up at the top, though, and her poop obsession? Even I can’t spin that one.
-Photo via Skull Swap
I’m moving to Japan.
(Image courtesy of 9GAG)
What’d you guys think of your boy Zito drilling Prince Fielder for his
earthquake celebration? It’s only spring training and we’re already
seeing fireworks?!? What’s your take?
Flush from yet another amazing Super Bowl game, the NFL recently took out its manhood, held it in both hands while staring proudly and then swiftly and viciously emasculated itself, leaving nothing but a bloody stump. You like touchdown celebrations? Well, let’s see how much you like them when it means giving the other team 15 yards on the kickoff.
Ostensibly, the owners made this decision to protect the game. After all, football is a team sport that involves no individual glory and this is why players are all paid the exact same amount. Oh, they aren’t? Uh, nevermind then.
My point is, the NFL could take a lesson from MLB and how it deals with this sort of issue. Guys like Prince Fielder are free to celebrate their heroics however they want. If that means running around the bases quickly with their head down, that’s fine. And if it means setting up a choreographed event at home plate with your teammates, that’s fine, too. But you’re going to have to face the consequences.
The consequences for Prince’s actions were a plunk in the back. Prince has adequate padding so I’m sure there will not be any long lasting effects. But it did let the Brewers know their actions hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sure, it’s sad that it had to come from close personal friend of RSBS, Barry Zito, but them’s the breaks.
That’s the thing. Baseball has rules against retaliation but unless it’s so blatant as to be unignorable, most umps are going to turn the other way. It’s part of the game and has been for a long time. In fact, this is probably one of those few areas where orthodox fans like Mr. Lung and reformed fans like myself can find grounds for agreement. Baseball is a game where things get settled on the field (unless you’re Michael Barrett and Carlos Zambrano) and the NFL could take a lesson.
Let a guy like TO or Ochocinco do a little dance and get down after making a spectacular catch. And then let them put 2 and 2 together when they get their teeth knocked out the next time they catch a ball. It won’t take long before the celebrations get tempered of their own accord.
That things like these go without saying is part of what makes baseball a great game. It’s not just about individual valor and team glory. It’s also the tradition and the melodrama. You think the Brewers will have forgotten that “pitch that got away” the next time they’re playing the Giants? And do you think the Giants will go easy on Fielder the next time he’s up to bat? No way, man. And that’s just one more reason to be watching those games.
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In some ways Jeff and I are lucky men. We both have the freedom that comes from being single although this also means we suffer its attendant sorrows. For instance, on this Friday evening neither one of us will enjoy the delightful presence of a woman keeping us company. And while this means that we are both free to watch as many spring training highlights as time will permit, it also means that the only whispers waking us up tomorrow morning will come from the TV we forgot to turn off.
The only real upside to this whole sad situation is that neither one of us will have any need of the following device in the near future. Unless, perhaps, they install them in baseball stadiums so we can convince our bosses that we really are in the hospital donating a kidney. Oops, gotta go. Time for dialysis.
A couple of days ago my piously pithy colleague, Mr. Krause, decided to undermine my loyalty to the St. Louis Cardinals. He spewed verbal chum as if I were cheating on my dear Redbirds by patronizing the White Sox.
Juvenile, Mr. Krause. Simply juvenile.
Look. This is known. I’m a Cardinals fan. A St. Louis loyalist. A redbird lifer. No question.
But I don’t live in St. Louis. I live on the Southside of Chicago, mere blocks from Sox Park. And I love baseball. So I’m going to see a lot of White Sox games over the course of a season. Call me a cheater, call me a liar, I could care less. Baseball is baseball, no matter what color the unis are.
So yeah, I’ll say it again: I’m a Cardinals fan, White Sox supporter. Eat it, Mr. Krause. The only time said allegiances will ever raise concern is this October when the two teams meet in the World Series, at which time you’ll find me with my Molina jersey and an interlocking STL on my cap. I don’t even have to think about it.
Now, Mr. Krause on the other hand, finds himself in a bit of trouble. At the suggestion of Mr. Jonestein, the RSBS interns and I were more than quick to disprove his most atrocious declaration, which I will repeat here for dear readers galore:
“Me, I bleed Tiger blue and often experience stigmata in the shape of an
old English “D.” I am faithful to the Tigers to the point of willful
ignorance concerning the other 31 or however many teams there are in
Major League Baseball.”
Okay, first of all, dummy, there are 30 teams in Major League Baseball, not 31. Second, zombies don’t bleed, so I don’t know how you can bleed ‘Tiger blue’ (is that even blue or is it just light black?). Finally, the interns’ research usurps your ability to wiggle out of a lie.
And I have proof:
Yeah, okay, Mr. Krause. I guess when you refer to the English “D” you’re implying that it stands for DECEIVER.
If there’s a Tigers hell (they’d show constant reruns of all the 2006 Tigers’ World Series fielding errors), you are definitely goin’ there, brother.
So don’t hate me, ‘cuz you know I’m right.
Don’t like Salman Rushdie’s books? Issue a fatwa allowing for his death. Don’t like the intermingling of the sexes in educational institutions? Issue a fatwa allowing for the death of those who okayed it.
I’m not saying all fatwas inspire quite such lunacy and, in fact, despite its modern connotation, a fatwa usually has more to do with the mundane elements of everyday life than anything else.
But, if you take it just a little ways past the line (or way over as in the case of the two I already mentioned), it gets your name out there and lets you make some bold statements. And since nowadays it doesn’t even appear that you have to be a recognized authority to issue a fatwa, I see that as an opening up of the field to just about anyone. With that in mind, here are my first few baseball fatwas:
Starting Kyle Farnsworth is Justification for Losing Your Franchise
Yes, I realize this affects the Tigers just as much as it does the Yankees, Cubs and Royals but at least the Tigers and Yankees never seriously considered this option. As the baseball ascetic, St. Allen of Michigan has brought to our attention many times, Farnsworth is a huge bag of suck and it’s time there were consequences.
Pink Hats Should not be Allowed Into nor Sold in Stadiums
I have mentioned this before but this is my first time codifying the decree. There is no reason to feminize the sport. If you can’t appreciate the game for what it is and need a pink hat to get you to the park, maybe it’s better if you stayed home. Pink is for cotton candy, baby girls and prom dresses, not baseball hats.
Songbirds are Unacceptable Mascots and Their Fans Deserve Ridicule
Look, there are hardcore birds like Eagles and Falcons and then there are pansy birds like Blue Jays, Orioles and Cardinals. You can try to blame it on the owner or tradition but you’re still the one wearing a fancy pigeon on your clothing. I’m even open to extending this fatwa to fans of franchises named after baby animals. Would you cheer for a team if they were called the Puppies? The why would you cheer for the Cubs? Marlins may be fish but they can put up a fight. And if you think that Rays aren’t dangerous, you might ask Steve Irwin for a second opinion.
So, there you have it. My first three baseball fatwas. Now, let the arguments in baseball jurisprudence begin.