Results tagged ‘ Bobby Valentine ’
Don’t quite understand VORP? UZR? PECOTA?
But the baseball basics? I thought everyone knew them.
I was wrong.
And rightly so. Not everyone’s interests align with mine; I shouldn’t look down on those who eschew the grandest game on earth (feel sorry for them, yes; patronize them? No.). Of course, I know this — NOW — after being way out of the loop on a conversation revolving around physics and something called… AFV.
“What is this curious AFV?” I kept asking myself as the cognoscenti carried on, oblivious to my poorly hidden obliviousness. The conversation dipped and rolled, skipped and scooted… “the air to ground ratio” this and “the hyperbolic arc” that.
Later, when I was all alone, I googled this curious AFV, only to find out that I’m a windmill-chasin’ idiot. Because AFV stands for America’s Funniest Videos.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
The lesson is clear: know your acronyms. And since we live right in the middle of technocracy’s jumbled white noise, we’d all do ourselves a favor by learning the hard ones. So, of course, the RSBS interns got to work on providing you, dear readers, with three of the most up-to-date acronyms you’ll ever find:
(Heterosexual Life Partner)
My HLP is Albert Pujols. He doesn’t know this (yet), but he is. He will know sooner if the GD cops would stop throwing this GD order of protection in my face. Uh… it’s getting in the way of my DESTINY*, Mr. Police MAN.
(Lou Intending to Actually Retire)
Admittedly, this is an odd acronym as it only pertains to people named Lou who hold whoop-dee-doo press conferences with the idea of hanging it up for good. And, considering the nature of our thought processes, it requires us to juxtapose the truth with a LIAR. If you’re confused, it’s okay. You should be. Lou Piniella intends to be in the Bobby Valentine and Buck Showalter retirement camp: waiting for a bigger, better paycheck.
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Determined Effort to Stalk Top Infielders Nightly, Yearly)
Nevermind all that pre-NLCS/ALCS buzz dancing around the internets and such as, the Iraq! Soon we will all have more than our wanted fill of Joe Buck self-righteous proclamations and ear-numbing Chip Carary-isms. For now, let us focus on the larger, more looming and lurid task of finding the Cleveland Indians a new manager. Shall we?
Yep. John Farrell is no longer in the mix. They can’t afford Bobby Valentine. And unfortunately, dear readers, Lou Brown has gone back to selling tires… forever.
That’s why I, along with the fastidious help of our always reliable RSBS interns, have prepared a list of potential managerial candidates for Indians GM Mark Shapiro, whom we all know is too busy lamenting the contract of one Travis “I Ain’t Got It No More” Hafner and the cruel reality of a midge-less postseason.
Mark, here is the shortlist of suggested targets:
Sure, the Big Tuna ain’t no baseball guy; we know that. But he was born to win (and eat… a lot). Besides, just think of what hiring this former Cowboy coach could do for the long neglected and oft polarized relationship between Cowboys and Indians. Mark, it is time to heal these wounds.
Since being shunned and axed by his University of Illinois home (where he was a staple presence for 81 years), the Great Chief doesn’t really have much to do but stay in and get drunk all day. Hey, you can get drunk at the ballpark too, Chief! Plus, having such a standard bearer of Native American tradition might help the Indians solve that whole racist image thing they’ve had goin’ on for… y’know… ever.
Oh, wait. He’s dead. Never mind.
He’s dead too? Sorry.
Whoops. My bad. Okay. No more dead guys of French descent.
Well, then that leaves me with just one more super managerial candidate for Mr. Shapiro and that person is:
Look, if you’re gonna build a bridge to nowhere, ya might as well build it on the Cuyahoga River.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m on point, all the time, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.