The Filibuster

Looks like MLB is going to televise the first part of the draft again.  Will Bud ever learn?

Jack
Bridgeview, IL
___________________________________

When people want to explain how boring something is, they often resort to the idiom “Like watching paint dry.”  Well, compared to the MLB draft, watching paint dry is edge-of-your-seat, action packed drama.  The sad thing is, that doesn’t mean Bud won’t keep on trying.

We all know the problem.  Succeeding in baseball requires development and in all but the rarest of cases, it’s pretty much impossible for a player to jump directly to the big leagues and make an immediate impact.  There are a lot of adjustments that even the best ballplayers have to make before they’re ready to succeed in the majors.  Bud has been in the game a long time and he obviously knows this but something keeps him from accepting it.

I’m not sure what it is.  Maybe it’s an inferiority complex because of the craziness and drama inherent to the NFL and NBA drafts.  Maybe it’s an inability to accept that baseball is different.  Maybe it’s just that Bud is completely out of touch and has made a lot of bad decisions that should have long ago cost him his job.  Whatever it is, it means that once again the MLB draft will be televised and once again no one but the absolute junkies will tune in.  Don’t tell him I said this but I bet you that not even Jeff will watch.  Yeah, it’s that boring.

Don’t get me wrong here.  The draft is important and when you look at the recent success of this year’s National’s ballclub, it’s obvious how important a good draft strategy can be.  But just because the future success of a team depends on the players a team chooses, that doesn’t mean the process is all that exciting to watch.  We know the basketball players from following them through the NCAAs.  We know the football players from the bowl games and college football saturdays.  Baseball players?  These are guys coming out of random colleges, even more random Latin American development leagues and god knows where else.  There’s no story attached to them until they make it to the big leagues.

Let me put it another way.  We all know about Len Bias and his cocaine overdose death.  Bias never played a day in the NBA but is still spoken of with reverence.  Meanwhile, until he made it to the major leagues, Josh Hamilton was just another talented athlete with substance abuse problems.  If Hamilton hadn’t have made the bigs, he’d simply be in rehab somewhere or out on the streets.

I know what Bud’s doing here.  He thinks that he can drive revenue growth by trying to create drama around the sorting process.  But you have to be invested in a person’s story in order for there to be drama.  We don’t know anything about these young baseball players so there’s no drama in watching them get drafted.  Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say there’s about as much drama as watching paint dry.

-A

Have a topic you want to see us Filibuster? Send us your Filibuster questions by emailing RSBSblog@gmail.com or by commenting below.

The Staying Power of Logic

Michele Bachmann has been out of the Republican presidential race for quite a while now and, as a result, has seen whatever little relevancy she had go with it.  But, like most batshit crazy people, it didn’t take her too long to figure out how to get her name out there again.  The cynic in me says that is nothing but a publicity stunt but the idealist in me wants to believe that she really has no idea what she’s doing and is simply living life from moment to moment.  I’m pretty sure the cynic in me is going to win that one.  The thing most often overlooked in all that is that Bachmann is once again running for the seat she currently holds in the House and I’m guessing she’ll win it.

Meanwhile, a guy who made his name in the Senate by pushing the dismantling of weapons of mass destruction around the world will be departing Congress.  Dick Lugar was one of the few moderate Republicans left in Congress and that did him no favors in the current partisan climate.  His concession speech was a warning to the hyper-partisans on both sides of the aisle but will sadly go unheeded.

That’s the thing about these kinds of races, though.  It’s a long-haul and you just never know what’s going to happen.  Often, what does happen makes no sense at all.  Should the Rays have made the playoffs last year instead of the Red Sox?  Logically, no, especially if you look at the standings from the beginning of August.  But a month later, things looked much different.  Should Lugar be departing the Senate and should Bachmann be returning to the House?  Logically, no, but logic doesn’t seem to have much staying power in these parts.  I guess we might as well just sit back and enjoy it.

-A

Anaheim Albert ang I Are Juss Having Fung, Mang

The Twittersphere is a strange place.  It can be as welcoming as it is alienating, as terrifying as it is hilarious.  But just like anything else on the interwebs, it is what you make of it.

Over the years, I have fawned over several accounts in order to make SUPER-HAPPY-FUN TIME.  Coco Crisp’s was golden.  Barry Zito’s was embarrassing (before he blocked me from talking to him).  And I’ve probably cried more laughing at the hilarity of Fake Ned Yost than I have all the times I’ve watched Braveheart combined (stop judging me).

But these days there’s a new mang in town (somewhere along I-5 between Los Anaheim and Orange Angeles County).

BEHOLD: ANAHEIM ALBERT!

He waxes on performance:

Compares himself to others:

And provides sultry details to his odd albeit professional relationship with his agent Dan Lozano:

Extra mad points for that Scott Spiezio reference.  He’s another man whose heroics are shared by both Halos fans and Redbird Nation.

Speaking of Spiezio, where’s my scotch… and the strippers???  ALBERT!!!!

Hate me ‘cuz I made you L-O-L, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

The Rules: Good Television Edition

If Kim Kardashian’s well-traveled yet consistently hypnotizing room-shaker just doesn’t calm that nasty case of televisionitis anymore, do not fear.

This is the 21st century.  And armed with both an MLB.TV subscription AND an MLB Extra Innings package on Direct TV, you never have an excuse to sully your brain again (unless Las Vegas is involved).

There are three basic rules.

Number One:

Watch Tony Campana.  That’s right.  I can’t help but tune into this wily sCrUB.  He’s great television!  Seriously, the dude looks like he should be delivering my newspaper every morning on a magenta, one-speed Huffy, not working a walk so he get on base to haunt opposing pitchers.  Perhaps it’s because my imagined baseball skill-set is similar to that of Campana’s that I often find myself glued to his base-running.  Or maybe it’ s just because the guy is a buzzing gnat in a game full of free-swinging giants.

Number Two:

WATCH the American League East.  Doesn’t matter the team.  Yankees.  Drama.  Red Sox.  Drama.  Orioles?  DRAMA!  Blue Jays?  MORE DRAMA!  Rays… oh the Rays… they are the KINGS of DRAMA.  On any given night no one knows what the hell is gonna happen in this division.  It’s a baseball fanatic’s wet — okay.  Sorry, chuggin’ the verklempt there.

Number Three:

Bryce.  Friggin’.  Harper.

Watch this dude.  Seriously.

I gotta tip my cap to Mike Rizzo and the Nats.  Both of their high profile picks have delivered early in their careers, not with just talent, but with poise and brass balls.  Watch Bryce Harper play a baseball game and tell me he doesn’t love it more than anything else on the planet, that he doesn’t live his every waking second for the opportunity to play the game we love so much to the best of his ability, AT ALL TIMES.

Isn’t that a great example of how life should be lived by us all?

Stay tuned to Bryce Harper.  That kid is fantastic television.

And go ahead, hate me.  I don’t care.  Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Nothing’s Gonna Stop Me Now!

I had a dream.  In this dream, I negotiated a contract where I would be paid beyond my useful years for doing absolutely nothing at all.  Once any talent I had was completely gone, instead of living off my pension or social security, I would get paid a ridiculously large sum of money for my “personal services,” but only if I chose to accept it. I mean, you never know.  It’s possible I wouldn’t want a million dollars a year and would say “no,” right?

But it was only a dream because MLB has set the precedent and there will be no more of the clauses that made Ryan Zimmerman and Albert Pujols very happy men.  No bathing in champagne for me.  No private islands in the Caribbean bought with my personal services clause.

No, I’ll have to chase my dreams elsewhere.  Here, for instance.

-A

The Filibuster

Feel bad about slamming Peavy yet?

Mike G.
Chicago, IL
___________________________________

This question makes the very broad assumption that I feel anything.  I don’t.  If I did I would already be cowering in shame because the Cardinals just dropped a series to the LOLstros.

But this is baseball.  It defies feeling.  It defies logic.

The Red Sox and Phillies in last place?  The Dodgers and Nats routing?  Peavy in control, flashing signs of the old whip-and-kill-em arm action?

Why not?  It’s only May.  Anything could happen.

Maybe I was a bit harsh on Peavy.  Can you blame me?  As far as baseballers go, Jake is pretty annoying.  And up until this season, all he had really done in a White Sox jersey is yap yap yap with a string of poor performances following those empty words.

I want my pitchers to pitch.  Not yap.  PITCH.

Jake is finally doing that.  Maybe his detached latissimus dorsi is properly attached again.  His velocity is back.  He’s hitting his spots.  Why should a man being paid like a superstar get extra accolades for FINALLY fulfilling his end of the bargain by pitching like a superstar?  Isn’t it too late!?!?!?

For my White Sox fan brethren, I am very relieved.  Yes, it is early yet, but to see Peavy, Dunn, Rios and *GULP* Gordon Beckham actually perform well makes life on the south side much easier.  But again, it is May.  There’s plenty of baseball left.

So I won’t douse that crow with Sriracha until I know I absolutely have to eat it.

Hate me.  It’s cool.  Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Have a topic you want to see us Filibuster? Send us your Filibuster questions by emailing RSBSblog@gmail.com or by commenting below.

Worst. Day. EVER.

The next time you’re late for work, spill coffee on your khakis and then get rejected by the hot gal at your local bakery, just remember: life could always be worse.

You could be a delusional sexist homophobe.  Or, you could be A.J. Burnett.

Equally terrifying, I know.

But it just doesn’t get much worse than A.J.’s lackluster performance from Wednesday night.  In fact, in the entire history of Major League Baseball, it was the single worst start by a pitcher since 1929 as Burnett was lit up by the Cardinals for 12 hits and 12 earned runs in just 2 2/3 innings.

Apparently the tanning bed has made Clint Hurdle officially “stupid”.

But today is Friday, folks, and I don’t wanna release you for the weekend all depressed, so when that worst day ever does choose you as its next victim, make sure you watch the below video to remind you of the BEST. DAY. EVER!!!!

Happy Friday!

Jeff

“In the Line of Fire” Takes on a Whole New Meaning

It used to be that when I heard “Secret Service,” I pictured Clint Eastwood running alongside a limo in “In the Line of Fire.”

Now, I picture this:

Or, even worse, this:

Come on, guys.  We expect this from A-Rod but not from you.

-A

End of the Road (B-Inge Remix)

We’ve all had those kind of relationships where we really like the person, we’re really comfortable with them and we have so many memories of the good times together that it’s nearly impossible to say goodbye.  It’s not that you no longer like them, it’s just that it’s not there anymore.  Well, that’s kind of what happened last week between the Tigers and Brandon Inge.

We’ve known that something was off with the relationship the last couple years.  It just didn’t feel as fresh and fulfilling as it used to.  Sure, we convinced ourselves that the old magic was still there, hiding someplace.  And every once in awhile that spark would rekindle something and we’d see flashes of what used to be there.  It’s like that magical vacation you take to try and find what used to be there and for a week or so, you rediscover it briefly.  But, just like in real life, things soon return to normal and you slowly begin to accept what has to happen.

The thing is, it’s hard to leave a relationship like that, especially when you’ve had so many truly terrible relationships previously.  Dontrelle Willis?  Mike Maroth?  Those two were like the alcoholic chick you picked up at the bar who decided to leave a toothbrush behind the first night and then just refused to leave.  But Inge?  He was more than a relationship.  Even your parents liked him.  He played multiple roles and he always seemed to step up and do what was asked of him.  He was a metaphor for everything that had happened over the previous five seasons.

But whether the relationship is certifiably insane or has just run its course, the end result is the same.  You gotta get out.  I’m not saying that makes it any easier.  Even though I know dropping Inge was the right choice, it’s not like I can just forget him.  I’ll probably still check his facebook and occasionally look at the photos we took together.  Luckily, it’s not like we’re left all alone.  There’s a new crush who has caught my eye and he’s a real Prince.

-A

Ten Titillations!

April counts, yo!  And here are some reasons why, after just one month into the season, I’m as jazzed as Mitt Romney during a temple garment clearance sale!

The Oriole Way
I am old enough to remember the Orioles being a staple of sound, fundamental baseball.  And though those days seemed to disappear into Jeffrey Maier’s malicious mitt, it looks like they may be back!  Let’s hope they are back to stay.

The AL Central
The Tigers are going to run away with the division you say?  Not so fast.  I know it’s only been one month, but the White Sox and Indians are right there with ‘em, and unless the Tigers start putting a hurtin’ on the opposition instead of Jewish folks at a New York hotel, things could get interesting.

Bobby V
Love him or hate him, he makes things interesting.  And oh how interesting things have been for the Boston Red Sox.  I LOVE IT!!!  The NBA may have all the drama, but when every day could be your last as a Red Sox, I start craving chicken, beer and video games.

The Not-So-Natinals
Best starting rotation in baseball.  Bryce Harper.  Strasburgers.  Um, throw in a presidential race worth watching and I’m ready for Mr. Krause to buy season tickets.

The Pujols-less Cardinals
I’m not gonna bask in AP’s struggles, but I am gonna point out that the Cardinals have yet to lose a series (except that one against the Cubs where they were gifted a win by the umpiring crew).  Onwards and upwards!

The AL West
Have you seen a Rangers game lately?  I’ve been watching them almost every day!  THAT’S how ya git’er done, folks.  Meanwhile, the Halos are as nervous as Rick Santorum at a Santorum Party!  As the Yankees and Red Sox learned before them, a bazillion dollars worth of free agent signings does NOT a champion make.

The Toronto Blue Jays
Not only do their uniforms look right again, but they’re also making the AL East insanely good!  If only they could make Colby Rasmus less whiny.

The Youth Movement
I remember the excitement involved with Ken Griffey Jr. breaking into the league.  Chipper Jones too.  Now that Bryce Harper and Mike Trout have made their debuts, a similar buzz is in the baseball air.  Throw in a slew of sophomores and third year players making headlines and baseball looks to be badass for a very long time.

Pitching!!!
The Year of the Pitcher enters its THIRD year and I couldn’t be more excited!  As a self-confessed pitchers duel fiend, I live off serious heat, nasty breaking balls and backdoor sliders.  We’ve already seen a perfect game and some no-hitter flirtations.  But it’s the heroics of Joe Saunders, Kyle Lohse, Colby Lewis and the like that really get my gears greased.

And finally… the most titillating of them all so far…

ADAM. FREAKING. DUNN.
As a longtime resident of the south side of Chicago, the last thing I wanted to do was waste my summer days talking folks down off the ledge like I did last year.  But since it appears Dunn sold his 2011 soul to Albert Pujols, I’m free to party my ass off at the fake B-Dubbs on 35th & Halsted.  HOLLA!!!  And buy me a drink!

Go ahead, hate me ‘cuz I’m easily titillated, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right!

Peace,

Jeff

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