And so in this Podcast…
Once again, Jeff and Johanna tread the unconventional waters of mischief-making as they delve into important social issues such as cock-fighting Aramis Ramirez, Stephen Strasburg’s golden elbow, Katy Perry’s wisdom, the Lou Piniella mailbag and much, much more! Turn up the volume and chuckle with us, y’all!
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thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and
all-around sound guru. If you like laughing or just wanna listen to some wildly impromptu conversations about food, film making and other important life subjects like living on display in a museum, check out his Undercast podcast. Visit Undercard Films!
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Recorded Saturday, August 28, 2010
Some things just don’t feel right unless they’re together. Like, how can you have pizza without pepperoni? Ok, yes, there is the Hawaiian but that’s a rare exception. Or what about Tom Selleck without a mustache? Catholicism without the pope…..or scandal.
Baseball is the same way but to an even greater degree. In a way, baseball just isn’t baseball without them. But if I had to choose just one thing that completes baseball, I’d say beer.
Now when I first went to games and was old enough to drink, the options were pretty limited. Usually there was Bud, Bud Light, Miller Lite and maybe some sort of local favorite like Old Style. But that has all changed in recent years. When I visit Nats’ Park, I can choose between the regulars or something like Blue Moon. Out in San Francisco one of the vendors had Anchor Steam on draft and that made me very happy.
It makes me wonder who I have to thank for all this malty and hoppy goodness. What brave soul forged a path through uncharted wilderness to make sure that my ballpark experience lived up to my expectations?
The answer will probably surprise you as much as it surprised me: Jimmy Carter.
Yes, the man who is best known for growing peanuts, botching the hostage rescue and overseeing the oil shocks of the 70′s also inadvertently created the conditions for the microbrewery explosion that continues today.
So, the next time you’re at the park, skip the Bud and drink a microbrew for Jimmy instead. If nothing else, it’s definitely better than a Billy Beer.
When you’re a Tigers fan, you often wonder who fell asleep at the controls. In fact, being a Tigers fan (or a Lions fan, for that matter) feels a lot like this:
Yeah, it’s funny when you’re watching but it ain’t so funny when you’re living it. At least we’ll always have next year.
In the world of advertising, there are two popular ways to promote and/or sell one’s product. One way, which isn’t recommended, is to be a real dick about it. Ya know, start off by saying your opposition (or whoever really, doesn’t matter) is the worst… ever…. in history. Then make some funny faces into the camera to make us forget that you’re the son of one of earth’s dumbest human beings. Then, threaten violence.
Sorta like this:
Kinda lame, yeah?
That’s because the product itself is lame (sorry, Arizona, but y’all are really failing me on your decisions of late). Bottom advertising line: avoid lame products.
Because when the product is as awesome and as captivating and as moving as the hallowed RSBS Podcast, then the good vibes of promoting it just sorta roll out… naturally… on the interwebs and beyond, as is the case at UNDERCAST. Go to this episode of UNDERCAST and listen to the sweet-@$$ commercial at the beginning (you’ll probably wanna listen to the rest of the show too, if you like enjoying life that is).
Q: What’s Red State Blue State?
A: It’s a podcast. About baseball. And other things.
Q: What’s baseball!?!
A: America’s pastime.
Q: What’s America!?!?!
Ask yourself that question again, dear readers, and ask it often: What is America?
And how disturbed are you that part of it is going to be run by another Quayle?
As a fan of the Tigers, I saw some pretty amazing catches in center field over the past few years. Granderson has skills, even if he chose to turn them over to the Evil Empire, and Austin Jackson has turned some heads as well. When I was younger, I also got to see Griffey at old Tigers’ Stadium when the Mariners came to town and that was nothing short of amazing.
However, all of those pale in comparison with what you’re about to see:
And even that looks mundane when compared to what a teammate of his did a couple weeks earlier:
The only way I can explain these feats of spectacularity is that the team plays in Hiroshima. Hey, if Peter Parker becomes Spiderman because of a radioactive spider, it stands to reason that these guys become baseball’s spidermen for the same reason.
Thanks to MW for the link and Big League Stew for the vid.
Sometimes parties get out of hand. Like the White Sox Disco Demolition event. Who would have thought that destroying a bunch of old disco records would drive fans to rush the field? Well, probably the same people who remembered that 10 cent beers lead to rioting and craziness.
But this seems to be the type of partying that Americans enjoy and it’s not confined to baseball. For instance, how about we take a look at another contemporary party that seems to bring the crazies out from every nook and cranny. There may not be a cohesive platform or a lick of logic involved but they sure came up with a catchy name: The Tea Party.
Despite what you may have thought after the 2006 and 2008 elections, the American electorate has not magically come to its senses. In fact, it appears that its dabbling with facts and reason had the opposite effect as they stumble straight down the rabbit hole and into a land where up is down, right is left and having the middle name Hussein means that you are a secret Muslim preparing to turn the United States over to a bunch of terrorists. These days, it just ain’t a party unless it’s a Tea Party.
But how about we let the kind folks over at College Humor take a more in depth look at this soiree:
I guess we just have to hope that one pill makes you larger, one pill makes you smaller and one pill makes you realize that these people are insane.
As with ten-cent beer night and Disco Demolition, the scars will heal. The Tea Baggers, uh, I mean Tea Partiers will eventually wake up with a monster hangover and swear they’ll never do it again. Which obviously means that I’ll see you here in another few year when we do it all over again.
And for Dave Winfield, a man who was drafted by three different professional teams in three different sports, such an aspiration never seemed too lofty.
“People would say ‘yeah, yeah, yeah.’ But the thing was: I found something I loved. And I was pretty good at it. Next thing you know I was drafted. Four years later, my dream came true.”
In the minds of today’s youth, such dreams continue to be commonplace, which is why Dave speaks with us from the Little League World Series in Williamsport, PA, where his partnership with Ask.com and Susan G. Komen for the Cure continues its tireless campaign of awareness, action and prevention.
“I just think back to when my brother and I were playing baseball at this age, if we would’ve had the opportunity to play on these beautifully manicured fields against kids from around the world, this would’ve been the highlight of our lives.”
Luckily for Dave, his highlights came later in life, in the way of 7 Gold Gloves, 12 All-Star selections, a World Series ring and a spot in baseball’s coveted Hall of Fame. But the kids in Williamsport still have plenty to look forward to:
“I know how much they love it. And they’re excited about it and how they’ll remember this experience the rest of their lives.”
There’s no doubt about that. And one needn’t look only to the Little League World Series to find such enthusiasm. Just head out to your local youth ball field and watch how regimented, how jovial, how respectfully the game is played, even on a small level. It is with that in mind that Dave recalls one of his more cherished little league memories:
“We used to take infield practice that was flawless. That was our goal, to take these flawless infield practices before the game and it would set the tone and intimidate the opposition. We were good.”
In fact, back then, growing up in Minnesota following the Twins, Dave’s focus was on defense.
“There were many players on that team but the one I really liked was Zoilo Versalles. He was a shortstop. And his glove was what I’ll never forget. I followed those guys. Harmon Killebrew. Tony Oliva. Guys like that. We used to imitate all of them.”
Kids will always imitate their heroes. They will always dream big; always envision themselves in the spotlight. But with only 30 teams and set 25-man rosters, the reality is that only 750 Major Leaguers can exist at any one time. So Dave’s advice to kids with Big League aspirations is “to get their education. Do well in school. Be versatile.”
“Enjoy the sport. Go hard. We’ll give you every tool and every opportunity to succeed. Just know that there are other things in life too.”
Of course, not every kid can grow up to be Dave Winfield. But every kid can grow up to be like Dave Winfield — to do things the right way, to respect that which demands respect and work hard to make a difference.
If every little leaguer can live up to those ideals, then the future is as bright as their dreams are big.
Written by Jeffery Lung
Special thanks to Zack Nobinger for arranging the interview.
For more information on Dave Winfield’s thoughts on the progression of little league baseball, check out his book Dropping the Ball.
Click *HERE* to read Jeff’s interview with Ozzie Smith.
Click *HERE* to read Jeff’s first interview with Dave Winfield.
to read Jeff’s interview with Ken Griffey, Sr.
(Top image courtesy of Essence.com)
(Bottom image courtesy of Tim Shaffer/Reuters)
Jesus and I may not love the uni he’s been donning the last few years; but heck, it’d be pretty sacrilegious to hate on a man who has provided the masses with unfettered improvisational entertainment throughout his entire career.
So Al, I and the RSBS interns would all like to wish Lou Piniella the very best in his retirement while reminiscing on those things we’ll miss the most about him:
His Preggers Belly
You know the drill. Lou shows up to Arizona in the Spring in excellent shape, nary a roll on his tummy. A few hapless months of frustrating baseball and countless cold ones later and he magically looks like he oughta be resting for the end of his third trimester. Some managers utilize the brim of their caps to intimidate umpires during a raucous; Lou bumps bellies.
His Love for the Bottle
Realize that I realize that I am taking certain liberties in proclaiming that Lou has a love for booze. I mean, he’s a man. He’s also a ballplayer. And he’s often seen in the clubhouse with a drink in his hand. So that makes him like 90% of the people I know on earth (me included) which makes me like him even more. It almost makes me want to bar hop the Tampa Bay metro area until I eventually run into him. I can’t promise I’ll be able to form coherent sentences at that point, but I would sure try.
Be good, Lou. Be good.
And come back if ya want. Baseball without you just won’t be the same.
Hate me ‘cuz I hate on your sCrUBBIES, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
What are your thoughts on Chris Carpenter? Do you take it all as “intensely passionate” or just a good ol’ jerk?
Underneath the Halo
I don’t care much for St. Louis. You could put me pretty firmly in the Brandon Phillips camp on this one and my feelings toward the Cardinals’ organization. I didn’t like Tony LaRussa when he managed the A’s and I don’t like him now. I could care less about Albert Pujols and Alfred Molina. I mean Bengie Molina. Damn. Yadier. I don’t like the Cardinals.
But I do enjoy seeing guys get fired up and making themselves heard. I grew up watching Bob Probert enforce for the Red Wings (I’m guessing he’s also not a big fan of St. Louis based on his interactions with Tie Domi) and the day that Bill Laimbeer and his elbows gave way to Michael and the beautiful game was a sad day for all Michiganders.
So I respect Carpenter going into the fracas and deciding to own it. Sure, he may have been overshadowed by Cueto’s karate kicks and the managers’ ejections. But only one man truly owned this rumble and that man is Chris Carpenter. Without him, it’s just a bunch of guys jawing at each other. He took it to that next level, the level where bad blood becomes real blood and a true rivalry comes into existence.
And, quite honestly, baseball is better for it. Rivalries create storylines and storylines sell tickets. Add a little fisticuffs into the mix and you’ve got magic.
Let’s not get too excited here, though. My respect for Carpenter is finite and in no way extends to the rest of his team. After all, like Phillips already pointed out, they are “little b!tches, all of ‘em.”
Photo courtesy of Yahoo!Sports