Although this week is the beginning of the baseball awards season, I find myself much more focused on the goings-on of the political world. And I’m not just talking about the US and our recent mid-term elections. Another big democracy just went through a similar fun time and their results seem to mirror our own.
But democracy isn’t really all that interesting what with its “free and fair elections” and “transparency.” Whatever happened to the good ol’ days of autocracy and election rigging? Sure, it’s still going on but it just doesn’t seem to be as widespread as before.
Luckily the potential for hyjinks and shenanigans lays in wait right around the corner. Is the Tea Party not providing enough excitement for you? Well, how about a vote of self-determination in Southern Sudan. Considering how things have gone in Darfur, this can only lead to a positive outcome.
Since I prefer to keep the mood light, though, there’s nothing better than heading over to our friends at Vladimir Putin Action Comics. After all, totalitarianism is much more enjoyable when you add in a side of beefcake and a sprinkle of strangulation.
Look, don’t get me wrong, folks. As an adamant stickler for tradition and a lifelong, self-confessed purveyor of pomp, it is widely known that I don’t take to change too well, especially when it comes to my precious national pastime. Indeed, I take pride in knowing that the game I watch is the same game my dad watched, the same game his dad watched, and his dad before him.
In baseball, there is no cavernous divide between generations. No peach baskets. No leather helmets. No prerequisites of toothlessness. No. Not in baseball. The baseball game of the early 20th century is the baseball game of the early 21st century. And that, dear readers, is a beautiful thing.
But what isn’t beautiful is always being late to the party. The NFL, the NBA, heck, the NHL… all three leagues had their very own networks before MLB finally made the move for its own. David Stern has taken the NBA all over the world with wild success — and the NFL has somehow convinced us all that from Week 10 to Week 17, we just GOTTA have a game on Thursday night!
One could even say that baseball’s public eye mediocrity is perhaps rooted in its stuckupedness — a trait that I am guilty of championing.
Alas! A chance for redemption!
Did you know there’s a friggin’ Lingerie Football League!?!?
I just found out about it. But I’m a fan. Big time.
And since (as far as I can tell) it appears the NFL has nothing to do with the league, I see an opportunity for Major League Baseball to finally make its mark as a trailblazer in the alternative sports industry. Ah, yes… I can see it now… during the cold, wintry months… 9 beautiful women versus 9 beautiful women… positioning fields in comfortable, indoor stadiums… whilst in… their underwear (if you could see me you’d see me smiling right now).
Damn it, SELIG! Are you listening?!?! I’m trying to sell you a goldmine here! And have you seen the price of gold lately?
Hate me ‘cuz I’m addicted to the female form, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I write quite a bit about alcohol. In my mind it’s natural because baseball is inextricably linked with drinking and I also tend to write quite a bit about baseball. Add in the politics which sometimes drives me to drink and you can see how I end up on this topic quite often.
However, there may be an even simpler answer to the question of why I write so much about the fermented and distilled goodness available to us out there in the world. Nature. No, I’m serious. How many genes do we have in common with monkeys? I’m not really sure but I’m guessing it’s enough to make the following an explanation of why I write what I write:
Oddly, one of those guys kind of reminds me of Jeff in college.
The interns have been working overtime.
And lately, they think I’ve been too soft on my lugubrious and oft embarrassed colleague, Mr. Allen Krause.
No more, dear readers!
So here is some archival footage of Mr. Krause and I, as youths, playing little league baseball. He’s on the mound. I’m at the plate.
And I don’t like the look he’s giving me…
Take that, brother.
Also, the Tigers suck.
Hate me ‘cuz I don’t pull punches, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Well, the midterm elections went pretty much as expected. And although we didn’t end up with the craziest of the crazies (O’Donnell, I’m looking at you), we can still expect all kinds of fun over the next couple years.
But despite anything you might say about the current crop of US lawmakers, at least you have to admit that they’re better than this guy:
I just hope he doesn’t run into Kevin Garnett anytime soon.
And so in this Podcast…
Jeff and Johanna welcome a very special guest, Second City funny man Mark “Pie” Piebenga, to the Logan Square Studio for an RSBS Podcast pow-wow of epic proportions (we would like to thank Miller Lite for making it, as the kids say, ‘epic’)! From Jim Joyce’s ‘stache to Nolan Ryan’s pomposity to Nyjer Morgan’s right hook to Bobby Scales’… existence?… all the gloves come off as the fellas look back at the 2010 season and gear up for the winter with plenty of chuckles and plenty of beer. All to make you laughy laugh!
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For more on Mark’s work on RSBS‘ Ninemen’s Morris series, check out this story then click on the Ninemen’s Morris tag at the bottom for more early 20th century hilarity!
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Subscribe to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
Subscribe via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. Keith is involved in some impressive projects himself. Check out his work at Undercard Films. Seriously. You should do it. If you don’t, you might find out about his MMA skills first hand. Holla!!!
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Recorded Wednesday, November 10, 2010
When you’re a millionaire athlete, it’s easy to laugh at practical jokes. Like when Dez Bryant goes out for dinner with his teammates and gets stuck with the bill. A percentage of his signing bonus makes that problem go away. However, that signing bonus doesn’t help so much with a 1-7 start to the season. Maybe in baseball you can come back but in a 16 game football schedule, it’s not so easy.
So, I can imagine that Dez Bryant must be feeling a bit like the guy in this video. You think you know what you’re getting into but then someone goes in and changes the rules. Hey, don’t you guys know that the Cowboys are America’s Team? And that you have to have two houses on the property before you can sell it?
I say Prince picks on the overall fitness of US America.
Or something like that…
Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Happy Veterans Day! Thank you, to all those who serve! We tip our caps!
Both my co-blogger and I are fond of running. It’s a great way to stay in shape and clear your mind at the end of a long day or even longer week. But it has its dangers:
Running, despite it’s bloody nipples and shin splints, is generally safe. If you want to get really serious about injuries, just look at football, basketball and hockey. I winced this past Sunday as Austin Collie took a cheap shot to the head and felt a little sick as the play was reviewed multiple times while he was strapped down and carted off the field. That’s no joke.
In fact, it really seems that baseball has the least amount of catastrophic injuries when it comes to major sports. Sure, pitchers undergo an unenviable amount of wear and tear but when injuries arise, it’s usually the result of chronic, repetitive motion as opposed to some sort of instantaneous blowout like you see in football or hockey.
Obviously much of this lack of catastrophic injury comes from the fact that there is very little person to person contact in baseball. When players collide, it’s usually an accident. Or the Mets attempting to play the outfield. Football and other sports demand a level of violence that baseball just doesn’t approach.
Maybe this also explains baseball’s unfortunate drop in popularity. What used to be our national pastime has not only fallen behind NASCAR in viewership, it has also become a sport where we rarely compete for the top place. Sure, we’ll always play in the World Baseball Classic but that’s mainly because so few countries can even field teams. Clearly we can’t compete at the same level as the Japanese, the Dominicans or even our own territory, Puerto Rico.
Maybe it says more about us as a country, though, that we prefer sports ruled by mindlessness and brutishness to sports like baseball and running where the mental aspect is almost as important as being able to physically perform. Or maybe it just illustrates how we feel about bloody nipples.
One media-savvy New York minute prepped skipper to go.
And as long as Davey Johnson refuses to come out of retirement and lead the Mets back to respectability, it looks like new GM Alderson and company are gonna have a pretty big decision to make in the very near future. But like always, RSBS is here to help! In fact, we would like to see Mets fans smile every now and then, so we got the interns busy and boy did they come up with some mighty smart suggestions!
He’s a New Yorker. He’s got a lisp (which indicates ability to persevere… and succeed?). He hates smut and could really clean up the place (talkin’ about you, Ollie Perez, you waste of oxygen).
Then again, Rudy is a Yankees fan. So he’s probably a real a$$h0le.
Why not? The world’s greatest all-time distance runner just retired… while in New York! If anyone can endure such pain, such suffering, such mental anguish… oh, wait, he didn’t finish the New York Marathon? See! That’s why he’s perfect! He’ll fit right in with the Metropolitans and their penchant for pre-finish line collapses!
Remember that black cat that ran across the field during the opening night at Citi Field? Uh…. yeah. That was no accident, folks. That was the work of a witch. A non-masturbating, adamant teabagging, scary spell spewing witch. Holla!!!
Dude! Conan RULED New York back in the day… remember? Then he got the big show, moved to L.A. and got canned a few months in. Sounds a lot like Darryl Strawberry, doesn’t it? Yep. The connections are too great to ignore. So don’t.
I know he’s being interviewed for the job… and I know he’s sort of a lame duck skipper… but the man is ORANGE!!! Move over, Mr. Met, Clint and his biohazzard-proof skin are ’bout to back that a$s up right into yo clubhouse!
Hate me ‘cuz it’s Tuesday, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.