Results tagged ‘ Albert Pujols ’

From Legend to Just Great: It Really Is All About the Money

The older I get, the less value I see in vitriol.

I am trying not to be angry right now.

But I am hurt.

I’m human.  And humans have feelings — feelings that, obviously, get hurt.  I understand Albert Pujols had some hurt feelings too, because Ryan Howard — a mere scrub in comparison — was making more money than him.

Boo hoo.

Once again, a professional athlete tells the world with his actions that the fans don’t really matter — that having statues erected in one’s honor, charitable foundations in one’s namesake and a universal key to the city, forever and ever and ever just ain’t worth a pass at a few extra million.

The Cardinals will be fine.  Maybe they go hard after Prince now.  Or maybe they just move Lance to first and let Freese and Craig become superstars hitting in front of and behind Matt Holliday.  Maybe they go and get Jimmy Rollins or one of a bazillion other high value free agents.

But Albert Pujols’ legacy will not be fine.  No longer will we mention him among legendary Cardinals like Gibson, Brock and Ozzie.  His seat next to Stan the Man is no longer available.

That was Albert’s choice.

Pujols will be remembered as a great Cardinal, yes, but one who, in the end, was all about the money.  I thank him for all the memories — memories I will hold dear to my heart until the day I die.

But now there’s no denying that those memories will always be bittersweet.  And there’s nothing I can do about it.  In the end, the fans don’t matter.  And that’s just a reality we’re all going to have to deal with on our own.

Peace,

Jeff

Setting the Mahmud

RSBS Special Correspondent and bonafide LOLstro lover, Mr. Johanna Mahmud reports:

“Gee, I wish we had one of them doomsday machines.”

There are three things I can never remember: the first is people’s names. The second is… is…

Anyway, I know I love me some hot stove! I’m making my yearly pantsless expedition to the wonderful world of MLB offseason rumors and conjecture! I’m even careening into mailboxes on my bike because of the madness!! I have puppies and chimps in my kitchen and we put on plays about how free agent negotiations “go down”. It’s like a Japanese game show. You never know who’s going to get eaten!

I put my head in the oven to inspire me during the season until hot stove time.. I NEED PLAYER MOVEMENT! Hot stove… FIRE FIRE FIRE!!!

So far Miami is the big mover/shaker, but who will be next?

For years they’ve employed unreal drafting strategies, worked on the cheap, biding their time while the super powers outspend each other. But now… THE SUM OF ALL FEARS.

Russia, China and America (Yankees, Red Sox, Cubs) have initiated the snap count for a Red Alert nuclear attack but ended up killing themselves fighting each other whilst brilliant strategery is quietly coming together in south Florida.  They have a new stadium, new digs, new manager, new closer and now Jojo Reyes. Will Reyes and Pujols share casserole recipes? REMEMBER: don’t share with Hanley! He’s already good on the whole putting on muscle mass thing.

But as much as the Marlins (and possibly the Cubs?) are pushing for Albert, I think he’s staying home in the Lou. By the way, I’d rather go toe to toe with a mountain lion mother protecting her cubs then go through another Aldopho Soriano situation if the Cubs sign Pujols for nine years and he looks like he’s 48 after just two of them. And brother Jeffy will be singing this for days when that happens…

If my beloved Cubs can swing a reasonable deal for Prince Fielder though, I’m beyond down. I’ll do anything — shine shoes, wait tables, blow… glass.

But in the case that neither Senor Jeffy or I  get our wishes, you will probably read someday of an infamous double Groundhog Day beheading.

–Johanna Mahmud
Follow Johanna on Twitter!

The RSBS Podcast, Episode 30: Pat Matheny’s Anesthesioxity and Other Stuff (LIKE HIGHLIGHTS!)

Click ME to Listen!!!

And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles

The RSBS crew celebrates its 30th episode by taking a stroll down podcast memory lane, remembering things that busted our (and hopefully your) guts.  AIDS salad and Ron Santo’s memory get rehashed while new memories (like gay ponies v. horsicorns, an iguana named Dudley and how you can cure your foot problems) are created!  Jump on board the RSBS crazy train!  No stops til you question how you spend your free time!

Don’t forget to getcho Crown Royal and enjoy some happy time!

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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. Follow Keith on on Twitter for all his movie magic updates and make sure to check out his crew and their hilariousness on the Undercast! podcast.

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Recorded Saturday, November 26, 2011

The RSBS Podcast, Episode 29: Remembering Ugueth’s Urbina and Other Stuff

Click ME to Listen!!!

And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles

Jeff tries his darnedest to be as polite as possible during his unfettered gloating of World Championship status (Go Cards!) while Second City’s Mark Piebenga adds some level-headed awesomeness to Johanna’s outlandishness and Allen’s seasoned straight man routine.  Among the topics of discussion are “the greatest game ever”, the woes of rebranding an already twice championed franchise (talkin’ to you, Marlins), Theo Fever in the Chi, b!tch t!ts and much, much more!

Now grab some Crown Royal and enjoy yo’ self!

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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. Follow Keith on on Twitter and make sure to check out his crew and their gut busting Undercast! podcast.

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Recorded Saturday, November 12, 2011

Tears of Joy, Tears of Sorrow

The afterglow of knowing your team is champion of the baseball world is a pretty damn cool thing.  I have been walking around the last few days in a sort of “Happy Flight” daze.  I’ve been smiling more.  I feel fantastic.  But yesterday morning, reality hit me: there won’t be any more baseball for a looooooooong time.

And then the text messages started coming.

Did you hear?

OMG Tony is hangin’ em up.

Are you okay? I just heard about TLR.

When Tony LaRussa took over the St. Louis Cardinals in 1996, I was just an awkward, acne-plagued high schooler who nerded out on keeping score at baseball games.  Now, 16 years later, I’m an awkward, 32 year-old professional who nerds out on keeping score at baseball games.

Not much has changed, yet much has changed.

In the early 90s, the Cardinals weren’t very good.  But from the minute the announcement was made that he would be the new St. Louis skipper, I immediately had a new found sense of… hope.  It was innate.  It was from within.  I don’t know why, but I just knew: our team was going to be good.

And we were!  From 1996 to the present, there hasn’t been one year where I didn’t think the Cardinals had a legitimate shot at the postseason.  Sure, some years were better than others, but with Tony at the helm, I have always had a sort of calm about the team.

That’s not to say he hasn’t made me scratch my head.  But I soon learned to stop questioning his umteenth pitching change.  His post-game explanation always made sense.  Our pitcher is hitting in the eight hole?  Of course he is.  Bringing in the closer in the 5th inning?  Exactly what I would do.  In fact, I learned very early on that if I was going to keep score during a TLR managed game, then I was going to have to a) write small b) write small and c) WRITE SMALL.

Still, I am going to miss Tony LaRussa.  A lot.  Just thinking about someone else being in the dugout with his job gives me the creeps.   My happy place is Tony giving the sign to Yadi.  Yadi fires down to first.  Albert makes the tag on the runner.  And right now, in light of TLR’s announcement and the ongoing question of whether or not Albert will be back in St. Louis next year, my happy place suddenly finds itself under baseball siege.

But, like everything else in life, I will just have to deal with that shizz when it comes.  In the meantime, I sure hope Tony doesn’t consider becoming an actor.  I have been suffering through the Ray Vinson commercials long enough.

Hate me ‘cuz I’m gettin’ misty eyed, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

THE Game 6

Last night’s game — from here and forever to be referred to solely as “THE Game 6″ — caused defibrillator industry stock prices to rise at the same exponential rate as my own blood pressure, let alone reminding the masses that YOU DON’T QUIT.

YOU NEVER QUIT.

For those three or four people who shamed the universe by not watching that most unimaginable game, here’s a quick video recap:

FREAKS Trailer from Thierry Custine on Vimeo.

FREAKS!  CIRCUS FREAKS!  AHHHHHHHHH!!!

Invoking the ’06 Tigers defense?  Seeing Albert lose his cool with the low strike calling ump?  To come from behind FIVE times?!?!?

And David… wow… what about David Freese making himself a St. Louis LEGEND?!?

TWICE.

I hope I never wake up.

Happy Friday, Y’all!

Jeff

(Image via Ezra Shaw/Getty Images)

Is This Real Life???

Drew Hallowell/Getty Images

During Games One and Two of the National League Division Series featuring my beloved St. Louis Cardinals and NL powerhouse Philadelphia Phillies, my damn Droid has been blowin’ up with furious text messages, emails and porn links Twitpics.  I’ve noticed a trend: fellow Redbirds fans furious that we haven’t put a pounding on the Phils.

So… uh… let’s back up here.

First of all, love them as I do, I am perfectly aware that the Cards barely snuck into the postseason.  In fact, considering the injuries we sustained and the fact that Albert Pujols didn’t become Albert Pujols until a couple months into the campaign, MAKING THE PLAYOFFS AT ALL was a tremendous above and beyond achievement.  And remember, if the Braves hadn’t tanked, we wouldn’t even be here.

But we are here, so that’s something to be happy about.  Let’s just not be too pompous in our own expectations, shall we?  Admit it.  On paper, we’re overmatched.  We should be down 2-0.  We shouldn’t even have a shot.  Luckily for us, the game isn’t played on paper, we’re tied up 1-1, and right now we have just as much of a shot as anybody.

BE HAPPY FOR THAT!

And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

The Filibuster

How has your relationship with Nyjer Morgan suffered after his attack on Albert’s manhood?

Nick
Martin, MI
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Well it’s about time!  Seriously, I was wondering when someone was going to call me out on the conflicting interests of my Nyjer Morgan man-crush.  As if publicly rooting for a Brewer wasn’t enough, I had to go and pick the looniest one of the lot, the one who called my team’s future Hall of Fame first baseman “Alberta” Pujols.

Oi vey.

My initial reaction to Nyjer jawing at Chris Carpenter in the game that led to the maniacal tweet in question was: Okay, that’s enough, Nyjer.  Yapping at your opponent is one thing — one thing Nyjer does quite well and usually within the boundaries of what is considered acceptable in baseball — but he was strutting and yelling “F*** you, p****!” to Carp, a man who could crush Nyjer with his stare if he wanted to.  Watching that strange exchange was akin to the feeling one gets when his dog starts sniffing the butts of other dogs at the park: somewhat embarrassing, but also totally natural.

Nyjer is crazy.  And that’s why I like him.

He’s… different.  He’s a showman.  A wild gunslinger.  A loose cannon.

He’s also quite talented and completely entrenched in winning.  The man wants to win (are you getting this, K-Rod???).  Nyjer has more energy in his pinky finger than most Major League squads put together.  But along with that fiery and insatiable appetite for winning comes a handful of bad decisions.  We saw it last year as he beat his chest while being physically removed from Sun Life Stadium.  We saw it when he slammed his mitt into the ground after missing a ball over his head, a ball that stayed in play and rolled around while he pouted.  And we saw it on September 7th when he almost got his @$$ handed to him by an angry Cardinals mob.

Do I like that he does that sort of thing?  No.  But that’s who he is, and let’s be honest, he makes the game interesting.  He makes it spark.  He is the Dennis Rodman of Major League Baseball; and as long as his numbers back up his jawing, as long as he puts winning above all else, I think he makes baseball better and immensely more entertaining.

Calling Albert names?  Our rivals have been calling Albert names for over ten years now.  So what?

Words, words, words.

When Nyjer takes a swing at him, that’s when I will have had enough.  But not even Nyjer is stupid enough to do that.  Albert would DESTROY him like he’s been destroying Brewer pitching (.329 lifetime against the Crew).

Don’t hate me.  ‘Cuz I’m right.  And you know it.

Peace,

Jeff

**Have a topic you want to see us Filibuster?  Want to find out the disgusting details of how Mr. Krause shows his “love” for big government?  Send us your Filibuster questions by emailing kraulung@gmail.com or by commenting below.

Record Breaking Singularity

Over the weekend, my brother-in-law and I had a deep discussion regarding what Major League records, streaks and milestones would never again be reached.  We volleyed, dipped and parried, throwing out memorized stats and tangible history: Joe Dimaggio’s 56 game hit streak.  The 300 win plateu.  5000 career strikeouts.  Pete Rose’s 4,256 hits.

On the surface, all of them seem insurmountable considering the modern game’s allegiance to softness, a result of the millions and millions and millions of dollars involved.  We concluded that the game was going to evolve into something else, perhaps a realm where the magical achievements of the 20th century would never again be rivaled — that they simply couldn’t be, because the people and the philosophies and the technologies of the game had changed.

Considering what we know now about how the human body works, why would a team subject its star athlete to a 162 game season, every year, with no breaks and no rest periods at all?  It just doesn’t make sense.

Which makes Cal Ripken’s 2,632 consecutive games played streak the holy grail of Major League records.

Unless…

We consider the very real (and imminent) arrival of the Singularity era.

That’s right.  For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, consider Moore’s Law, which applies the exponential growth theory to the amount of transistors that can be aptly placed within an integrated circuit.  The number doubles rather quickly (every two years or so), which is why 50 years ago the most basic of computers took up an entire wing of a building to do simple calculations and the iPhone or Droid you have in your pocket is able to take dictation, guide you from your home to the ballpark via GPS and give you the answers to any question at any time at speeds you never even dreamed possible (cue the Google Oracle music).

According to leading scientists, engineers and futurists, we are soon going to reach a point (within the next 30 – 50 years) where nanotechnology will be as common as laptops are today — that tiny yet powerful computers the size of blood cells will be programmed to reverse engineer the effects of aging, to fight off disease, to, in effect, provide superhuman powers.

Imagine having Albert Pujols, in the prime of his career, forever… or, at least for 40-50 solid years.  Imagine Justin Verlander striking out 500 hitters each season with his 145 mph fastball.  Imagine Carlos Zambrano murdering his entire –

Whoops.

Okay, so the Singularity era will also present some pretty controversial issues, like creating artificial intelligence that is able to out think us, which will blend the lines between what is real and what is not to the point where we could be opened up to an entirely new dimension, an entirely new worldview and/or perspective (like an ant suddenly realizing and being able to understand that there’s an entire world that exists above him).

But if we could see Albert in a Cardinals uni forever, tallying up as many career homeruns as there are trips around the sun and never getting hurt, I think all that sci-fi apocalypse shizz will be worth it.

So I retract my idea that some records will never be broken and confess: THEY ARE ALL GOING TO BE BROKEN.  Believe it.

And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Forget Me Not

With just six weeks and some change left in the regular season, now is the time I lament my dear Cardinals’ now seemingly annual implosion from the top of the NL Central and into regular season obscurity.  Sure we can blame Waino’s injury.  We can blame Albert’s transformation from Machine to Double-Play Machine.  We can blame shoddy defense and the lack of a real closer, hell, blame me, I don’t care.  But in the end, there is no denying that we have lost the really important games and we’ve been real sloppy doing it.

Of course, this is the NL Central.  So until the math cancels us out, there’s no need to give up just yet.

The same cannot be said for the Tampa Bay Rays.

If the Rays were in any division other than the AL East they’d be right in the thick of contention.  Unfortunately, the way things are now, even if they do collect the fourth best record in the AL, they still won’t make the playoffs as long as post season regulars New York and Boston remain above them.  I find this a bit sad, for the Rays have gotten tremendous pitching all season long and they’ve found a way to win without high-priced free agent flops Carl Crawford and Carlos Pena.

But no one’s talking about the Rays.  And no one will.

Hm… reminds me of the one-way delusional street commonly referred to as the Republican Party.


In the case of the Rays, at least they’ll get another shot next year.  Dr. Paul, on the other hand, is stuck in a great big clogged up tube of crazy, and the exit is nowhere to be found.

Happy Friday!

Jeff

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