Results tagged ‘ AL Central ’
I don’t know if what I’m about to confess will peg me as a complete weirdo, but I’ve long stopped caring about what other people think, especially when it comes to my health; and honestly I gotta vent to someone about this right now because if I don’t I will go mad.
I think about the Twins. I think about the Twins a lot. Probably more than most people do, more than those who are really close to the Twins. This is odd because blondes really aren’t my type; I much prefer brunettes. Black or brown. That’s my thing. But still, I can’t stop myself from looking at the Twins, thinking about the Twins, dreaming about the Twins.
And if you look at them up close — like really close — you’ll notice many imperfections. Yes, they are beautiful, but not in the traditional sense. They’re not real bright either. And they embarrass themselves by, you know, talking. They’re so far removed from reality too… yet I still can’t get them out of my mind.
Because the Twins are a supreme tease really. I know I can’t take them seriously — not in any capacity — yet they never seem to go away either.
Then, every once in a while, I’ll let my mind wander… to a place where it’s just me. Me and the Twins. Hangin’ out… havin’ fun… doin’ stuff.
So no matter how hot they are, how hot they get, how hot they are together, with or without me, at the end of the day, they are related to one another and, well, folks, that’s just gross.
Hate me ‘cuz I made you realize you think about them too, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(*Image courtesy of Hollywood Tuna)
Much has been made in the last few days about the death of civility in America. Serena’s tirade at the US Open only slightly overshadowed Representative Joe Wilson’s yell during President Obama’s health care speech. And of course, both of those events ended up being being blown away by Kanye West’s impromptu hijacking of the VMAs.
But I don’t think all of this is bad.
It’s good to see Serena fired up. God knows none of the other Americans in the main draw at the US Open came close to her fire with the possible exception of a seventeen year old. And when you’re used to stars making the same inane comments, it’s nice to see that there’s still room for the insane. As for Wilson, although it might have been nice for him to express his views in a slightly more constructive way and perhaps in a more appropriate forum, he expressed how strongly Americans feel about the issue of health care.
I’d love to see the Tigers this fired up about their season. They may be in the driver’s seat in the AL Central but they sure don’t look like they’re in control. The only reason they’re in first is because the other teams in the division are giving it away.
However, I’m hoping the Tigers can take heart in the exploits of the University of Michigan football team. I don’t think anyone expected much but they went out this past weekend and won one of the two games that count this season. Civility may be dead but so are the hopes and dreams of thousands of Fighting Irish fans and that’s good enough for me.
The Truth is: the view from Pujols-ville is more than satisfying these days. Despite my colleague’s dastardly attempts to poke holes in the euphoric reality of the game’s best player hitting walk-off homeruns to champion the St. Louis Cardinals to its current nine game lead in the NL Central over the Chicago sCrUBS, I continue to attest to the wondrous ecstasy that is having a bonafide man-crush on Number 5.
Say what you want, Mr. Krause, Pujols-ville is full of winners.
The same cannot be said for the barely above mediocre Detroit Tigers.
And when times are tough, Mr. Krause — when the .500 Minnesota Twins and sub .500 Chicago White Sox have legitimate shots at besting your patchwork club — I understand that human nature may force you to criticize, to chide, to castigate. Indeed, your rural upper middle class gun-totin’ religion-clingin’ Republican roots have crept their way into the conversation with your most recent closing statement:
“Don’t hate me because of my inability to fantasize about Albert Pujols
in a kiddie pool full of tapioca pudding. Hate me ‘cuz I’m right.”
Jealously does often cause one to slander.
But the above statement is more than just blasphemy. It’s code.
You see, dear readers, Mr. Krause and I both fancy ourselves as learned linguists. With two foreign languages under each of our respective belts (that’s four total, not counting the mother tongue), it’s easy for us to slip hidden messages here and there. In this case, the curious Albert/kiddie-pool/tapioca-pudding reference has deeper meaning…
Ne me détestez pas en raison de mon incapacité de fantasmer au sujet d’Albert Pujols dans un regroupement de kiddie complètement de pudding de tapioca. Détestez-moi ‘cuz que j’ai raison.
No odio, porque no puedo Albert Pujols un grupo de fantasía para niños que pudín plenamente tapioca. Odio porque yo tenía razón.
لا اكره لأنني لا أستطيع ألبرت Pujols مجموعة من الخيال للأطفال بشكل كامل التابيوكا الحلوى. أنا أكره لأنني كنت على حق.
And finally, back to English:
“Did not force! For that I, Albert, did not can Pujols’ group from the horseman for the children, thoroughly Al-Hulwah! I forced for that. I was justified.”
Yep. Mystery solved. Mr. Krause wishes he were Albert. He fears those pesky horsemen, the children and most importantly, those more than creepy Al-Hulwahs.
Hard for me to hate Mr. Krause for that. Sometimes the Al-Hulwahs even keep me up at night.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
First of all my fine young friend, I want to thank you for taking the time to read our blog. Each one of our readers is a beautiful and unique snowflake and you are no different Jessie. Even if you are from Missouri.
But you know who is not a snowflake? Kyle Farnsworth. Nope, he’s an overpaid, overhyped bag of suck. On the bright side for Royals’ fans is the fact that Farnsworth hasn’t lost a game in ten days. Which is pretty good for him. However, his ERA has been steadily climbing and that’s not such a good thing. Well, unless you’re a fan of a rival AL Central team.
But to get to your question Jessie, you waggish little scamp, yes, we are tough on Farnsy. But did you ever think that maybe it’s because we love him? I mean, we’re always toughest on those we love, right? And to be fair, baseball would be a sad place without Kyle. Who would cry on camera when he finds out he’s traded? Who would constantly underwhelm us yet still receive ungodly amounts of money from each subsequent team?
Are we unfair, though? Absolutely not. He’s a public figure. I look at him like I do a politician. When a politician does something I don’t like, I have the right to criticize his or her performance because I help pay their salary. That makes them accountable to me. And when I buy a ticket to a baseball game or a new hat, I’m helping to pay the salary of all these baseball players. Do you see where I’m going with this Jessie, my intrepid little friend? If I’m paying part of your salary, I’ve earned the right to critique your performance. And to be quite frank, I would be remiss if I didn’t critique Mr. Farnsworth’s ongoing recital.
So Jessie, you impish little rascal, thank you for your insightful question but I hope the response has helped you see the light. Here at RSBS we are often tough on people and issues but we are never unfair. Except for maybe with A-Rod but that’s because he’s a d—-bag.
Last year about this time I was already discussing the Tigers’ World Series victory parade and trying to figure out how I would attend. Turns out I may have been a little premature in my expectations. Luckily, I learned my lesson and will never again have expectations about the Tigers.
Or at least that’s what I thought until this article popped in my Yahoo today. What am I supposed to think when I read this:
Rick Knapp, the new pitching coach in Detroit, held up his hands. “We’re only 10 days into camp,” he protested. But his eyes shone. And the corners of his mouth couldn’t beat back the grin.
The last thing that anyone who roots for Detroit (the city or any of its teams) needs is hope. And that’s exactly what stories like this provide.
I prefer the “What strange disease did Joel Zumaya contract this offseason” type of story. That rings true. Even the “Fernando Rodney wrestled an alligator” story is acceptable because then you just kind of expect the worst. But all of these Miguel Cabrera looking relaxed and Dontrelle Willis actually hitting the strike zone stories have the opposite effect. They make you re-evaluate the lineup and wonder if maybe we do have a chance in an admittedly weak AL Central.
It’s kind of like the lead up to Obama’s inauguration. You keep telling yourself that he’s just a man and there’s no way he can right all the wrongs of the past eight years overnight. But you can’t help it. You hear the news. You see what’s happening. And you start to think, well, maybe it could happen.
No, not for me that kind of optimism. I’ll take my seat over here, firmly ensconced in the misanthrope camp. Rick Porcello looks good? So did Dontrelle. Cabrera is finally coming into his own? We thought the same of Renteria. With both Rodney and Zumaya healthy, the most heated battle is for the closer position? I’m sure Zumaya has a travel version of Guitar Hero with him.
See, I’ve been a fan of the Lions and Tigers for long enough to know better. So, how about you check in with me at the All-Star break and then we can chat about Porcello, Cabrera and Zumaya, ok? Until then, I’ll just be sitting here with my Ozzie Guillen voodoo doll, trying to figure out what crazy thing I can make him say next.
Ask anyone in my Southside Chicago neighborhood who they’re voting for this November and you might hear about a lot of Jim Thome/John Danks ticket write-ins. For now. While we all know how easily the magnanimous momentum of baseball can change, what we know for sure, at this exact moment in time, is that the Chicago White Sox are indeed the AL Central Champions.
So, EAT IT, Mr. Krause!
While you’re doing that… our dear RSBS readers would like to know the answers to the following:
What hurts more, Al? The Sox winning the Central or your Tigers being puke-spitting awful and finishing in dead last?
What keeps you up at night, Al? Not being able to win an argument or not putting in the time to win an argument?
Wrap your head around those inquiries, Mr. Krause. I understand that you may need a minute or a day, year, decade. That’s fine. By the time you’ve formulated your meticulous thoughts, I bet Sarah Palin will be writhing in her own talking points as she prepares to take on Senator Biden on Thursday night.
But hopefully, we’ll hear what you have to say by the time the Cubs drop their first game to the Dodgers.
It’s all in the timing, my man.
So go ahead. You’ve done it before. Sure, go ahead and hate me, Al, but don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I asked a similar question in the hypothetical earlier this season but now that some aspects of the postseason have sorted themselves out, I have to ask again. What makes you more sad, the Cubs winning the NL Central or the Cards not making the playoffs?
For all of you who picture me sitting in the alcove of my apartment drowning in the proverbial sea of my own tears because the Cardinals will be home this post-season while the Cubs journey on, you’re probably not too far off from reality. Of course, the half empty bottle of Jack, the lonely cavern of my heart and the clear and present danger of having one Sarah Palin next in line to the highest office in the land most certainly have more to do with my wallowing than the current state of baseball.
As I have said here before, the Cubs were supposed to win the Central and be one of the best teams in baseball this year. So why, Mr. Krause, should I be so surprised to actually see this come true? We’re both highly educated, extremely learned, dashingly handsome young men, so cut me a little slack here.
Verily, the true river of tears has yet to flow. In fact, it is on standby until the final outcome of the AL Central battle. If my neighborhood Sox find a way to wiggle back in there, then all will be well again and I will have much to look forward to.
If the menacing Twins manage to squeak in (which would realistically only extend their inevitable fate of just not being good enough) then I will go ahead and cry… right along side Mr. Krause, who again, finds himself rooting for the worst team money can buy.
Crying is nothing new to baseball fans. The likes of Bill Buckner, Bartman and Don Denkinger — among myriad others — have long tortured the hearts and souls of those most loyal.
And no one will cry harder (or longer) than Mets fans if the the second team of New York blows it — yet again — at the very last minute. Stay tuned… or, just keep your ears open for the hisses and boos from the Met faithful. That ricketty old stadium may come tumbling down sooner — and in a more creative way — than we all think.
Don’t hate me, ‘cuz as always, I’m right.
As writer Robert Falkoff (say his name with a Boston accent and make yourself laugh like a 12 year-old) let us know on Tuesday, the Cardinals playoff hopes are dead. Say what you will about the ’08 Redbirds, they had a shot, but GM John Mozeliak made sure they wouldn’t make it by doing absolutely nothing to help the squad get better where they hurt the most: the bullpen.
I’m afraid there’s not much more to say than that. The bullpen (or certain lack thereof) is the reason why we didn’t contend down the stretch. My cries fell on deaf ears (not uncommon) and I have since found an aggravating solace in my self-righteousness.
Now, if you’ll be needing me, I’ll be drowning my sorrows by invoking the spirits to damn the Cubs’ playoff run and lead my neighborhood Sox to victory over the Twins.
It will happen.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.