Results tagged ‘ Carlos Zambrano ’

The Great Yo’ Mama War

big momma.jpgOh no.  There he goes again.  Indeed, dear readers, my errant and oft annoying colleague, Mr. Krause, is in desperate need of some verbal “fire” — the vitriolic, infernal, flesh-eating kind most notably invoked by the devil and his evil minions.

He did the unthinkable. 

He threw down the gauntlet.

He insulted Albert Pujols’ mama.

Where does Mr. Krause find all this idle time to waste on shameless maternal attacks?  As a Cardinal fan sitting on top of a 10 game lead in the NL Central, I can certainly see where I would have the time from now until October.  But Mr. Krause would make better use of his by pondering the pain he will feel once his streaky Tigers get eliminated early on in the ALDS.

Meanwhile, I’m feelin’ pretty damn good… so good that I’d like to just go on a rampage and say:

  • Miguel Cabrera’s mama is so ugly, she makes Willie McGee look like a GQ model!
  • Carlos Zambrano’s mama is so lazy, she makes Big Z look like a hard worker!
  • Ryan Braun’s mama’s teeth glow so yellow, she can almost lead the Brewers out of the darkness of the NL Central! (nah, nothing glows that yellow)
  • Manny Ramirez’s mama is so dirty, her batting helmet has a biohazard label on it!
  • And, of course, Mr. Krause, yo’ mama is so dumb, she’d probably fall for this lame Glenn Beck advance:

Hate me ‘cuz I come back fivefold, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Happy Friday!

Peace,

Jeff

All-Starred Out

All Star Weekend 7.14.2009 055.jpgIt was one of the most exciting three days I have ever experienced — being there, participating in the focal point of the entire baseball world, sharing with like-minded folks who love the game just as much as I do.  The memories will last forever; yet even I — a man with a unique ability to alienate any intelligent conversation with my critical case of baseballitis — yes, even I could use a break. 

Now back in Chicago, I plan to use my free afternoon to reflect on the staggering, inspirational, communitarian adventures I was privileged to have… and of course, pay tribute to the baseball gods who made it happen.

The National League lost.  Oh well.  I am not crying about it because it really means nothing to me.  Despite the final score, the game was noteworthy for its cleanliness, its quickness, and how aside from a couple fielding errors (and only two walks — one intentional — if I remember correctly) it was one of the most correctly played games I’d ever witnessed live.

But even I am easily star-struck, and for me, perhaps the neatest thing was being able to see so many gifted athletes on one field, at one time, playing together.  I have to say that from our right field bleacher seats, watching Ichiro Suzuki was a true pleasure.  I have never seen one man do so much stretching in such a uniformed and regulated fashion.  Before I knew it, my attention was solely focused on number 51.

Leading up to the game, I couldn’t help but fall in love with my country all over again.  The tribute to the troops, the hometown all-stars, the President’s pitch and that wicked cool SR71 flyover are still giving me goosebumps. 

Now, on with the photos…

The Ticket:

All Star Weekend 7.14.2009 001.jpgReason #164 why Missouri’s relaxed open container laws create jobs in the street-cleaning service industry:

All Star Weekend 7.14.2009 010.jpgAbsolute highlight of the night: having the privilege of being photographed with these fine young soldiers who risk everything on my behalf:

All Star Weekend 7.14.2009 011.jpgThose same soldiers, later bearing the flag:

All Star Weekend 7.14.2009 039.jpgStill feeling patriotic:

All Star Weekend 7.14.2009 022.jpgThe Obama-tron:

All Star Weekend 7.14.2009 038.jpgSleeping Banding with the enemy (if only for one day):

All Star Weekend 7.14.2009 023.jpgMy idea of Heaven:

All Star Weekend 7.14.2009 049.jpgI didn’t take many pictures during the game as I was intent on taking it all in, sans technology.  I turned off the phone, put the camera away, avoided Bud Light and simply became a kid again.

It was something I will never forget.

Peace,

Jeff

The Filibuster

As a born and bred resident of South Carolina, there isn’t a whole lot
to get excited about when it comes to baseball. The Braves suck, the
Nats suck. Really, we’re pretty limited when it comes to our options.
But here’s my question. If our governor, Mark Sanford, were a baseball
team, which team would he be and why?

Francis
Charleston, SC
__________________________________________

mark sanford.jpgBe not afraid, for the South Carolinian MLB plight has not gone unnoticed during the ostensibly offensive tenure of RSBS.  My sister lived there for a year and I remember her husband complaining that there wasn’t much of a buzz for the game at its highest level — that people got more excited about NCAA Gamecocks baseball than the Major League playoffs.  Look, I don’t blame anyone for not wanting to follow the Braves or the Nationals, as it is obvious that neither team has the “game” nor the “co<k” (proverbial as it may be) to be a bonafide winner.

That’s just the truth.

But let us focus on the crux of your question, Francis, which seems to key in on our special talent of personifying baseball entities with tangible political failures.  While this challenge may not seem as tantamount to society as our Modern Era All-Corrupt Baseball-Poltico Team, it certainly is as important in gauging the ever growing dissatisfaction of the masses and their subsequent loss of face.  Especially in South Carolina — a red state that suffered the humiliation of a US American intent on saving the “education like such as South Africa and, uh, the Iraq everywhere like, such as and” exposed on national television — the tragedy of Mark Sanford must be discussed in terms of its baseball counterpart:

The Chicago Cubs.

But wait!  How can I equate the Cubs with just another high profile politician caught in a sexy web of lies?  It’s quite easy.  Because like Mark Sanford, the Cubs are posers.

Sure, they’ve sorta passed for a wholesome bunch of merry go-gettin’ winners (save Zambrano, Bradley, Lilly, et al) the last couple of years, and they always look good on the surface — good enough to convince the analysts they’ll win it all and good enough to draw in a bunch of weekday party-goin’ drunkards from well-to-do families who are so eager to overpay for an underperforming product that they’ll even sacrifice their dignity… but in the end, let’s face it: a hundred and one years is a long friggin’ time.

To put it bluntly, both the Cubs and Mark Sanford indeed have that swashbuckling debonair, that charismatic sheen, that alluring promise of ultimate perfection.  They get higher and higher… and as soon as they try to take it all the way to the top…

…they fall flat on their face.

Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Hot Heads Sink Ships

rush_limbaugh.jpgAh, summer! A time of year that seems to bring out the worst in everyone. According to statistics the RSBS interns just delivered, the number of drunken brawls increases by 46.7% during the summer while the number of rational decisions made dips precipitously to less than one out of every three decisions. But don’t just rely on our statistics. Take a look at the anecdotal evidence, too.

Carlos Zambrano’s ejection the other night, which was quickly followed by a 6-game suspension, highlights the upward trending number of ejections in Major League Baseball over the past few weeks. And if you think Zambrano’s tirade was ugly, just wait until Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity really get going on Sonia Sotomayor. The higher the temperature goes up, the hotter people’s heads get and the more likely they are to explode.

Maybe that’s why we should learn a lesson from the always even keel Brits. For instance, take a look at Eugene here. Do you think he’s going to shove Simon if he doesn’t make it to the next round? Will he verbally abuse the other two judges? Despite Eugene’s special set of issues, I’m thinking no.

Either way, happy Friday!

-A

Crybabies Never Finish First

carlos zambrano crazy.jpgThe escalating crybaby tantrums that so poignantly characterize the 2009 Chicago Cubs are about as interesting to me as reading People Magazine‘s cover story on Bristol Palin and her five-month old child.  Still, I admit: they’re both fun to look at.

Carlos Zambrano lost his cool again?  Ya don’t say.  If he’s not cussing himself out on the mound he’s throwing at someone’s head or beating the crap out of Michael Barret or, like yesterday, bumping umpires, throwing balls into left field, or bashing that poor Gatorade machine in the dugout. 

Look, I like fiery baseballers just as much as the next pretentious a-hole, but when is enough finally going to be enough for Zambrano?  If I threw such a fit at my job you can be sure that I’d be in the unemployment line that same afternoon; and my job doesn’t affect 24 other millionaires in the clubhouse and a neighborhood so jaded, so disgusted, so unruly that its people would actually run a guy out of town, fearing for his life.

Big Z, Milton Bradley, Ted Lilly…

Cub fans, this is why you don’t win championships.  The World Series crown is reserved for respectable men who handle adversity with poise and class, who lift each other up with their actions, not tear the team apart.  One would think that having Lou Piniella — the skilled master of argumentative persuasion who perfected competitive bluster without hurting his team, himself or others — would teach these rascals how to go about being grown men.

But such logic always seems to get lost in Wrigleyville.

On July 19, 2004, after beaning Jim Edmonds twice for allegedly showboating on a homerun trot, Carlos had this to say: “This is not a baby’s game.  This is a man’s game.” 

Yet Carlos Zambrano (along with spoiled co-whiner Milton Bradley) remains one of the biggest babies in this “man’s game”.  The last time I threw a fit like Zambrano I was ten years old and my father did to me what someone should have done to Carlos a long time ago: he spanked the holy bejeebies outta me.

Until someone does that, there is no team — just a bunch of selfish individuals looking to cause a scene, which will ultimately lead to yet another year of hopeless dreams on the Northside.

Hate me ‘cuz I’m callous, hate me ‘cuz I use big words, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Adding Insult to Insult

Cuck the fardinals Nothing says Cub fans like Old Style beer, bleacher bums and t-shirt hawkers on Clark and Addison trying to make a buck off of half-baked pseudo-profanity.

Long live the US American dream!

First there was “Cuck the Fardinals”.

Then there was “Cardinals take it in their Pujols”(which wittily showed a disenfranchised redbird being sodomized by a Louisville slugger).

And then there was the Cub faithful support of the racist “Horry Cow” featuring an Asian rendition of the late great Harry Caray… all part of the warm 2008 Chicago welcome to Japanese import Kosuke Fukudome.

But like all things, dear readers, even racism gets old.  So while the new fad in Wrigleyville attire may be a t-shirt that reads “Pujols Mows My Lawn”, I think it’s time we all grow up and act like adults.  First Asians, now Latinos… what’s next?  A crack at how Ryan Franklin looks like a neo-Nazi? (He does

Of course, this sharp razor of racism is double sided.  Vendors outside of Busch sell similar duds; in fact, they started the lawn care business with “Zambrano Mows My Lawn”, to which I couldn’t help but ask: how in the world does he have time for that?!?

Yet in all seriousness, this passé barrage of back-and-forth t-shirt warfare is all a bit lame in my opinion.  Can’t we just do drive-bys like they do in L.A. and S.F.?  Or why not just beat the crap out of each other like Red Sox and Yankees fans?

I boldly volunteer to throw the first punch… but, if I win the fight… you have to mow my lawn.

Horry Cow!

Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Big Lay-Z

the big z.jpg“I’ll be running nice and easy, just taking my time, not hustling.  I apologize to the Cubs fans.”
 — Carlos Zambrano, on how he’ll play upon his return from the disabled list
 (Chicago Tribune Article)

The good news is Carlos Zambrano doesn’t have to take the fall for this mope wreck of a statement.  The chain of command comes from up high and the Chicago Cubs suits are proving that not only do they not know how to win when it matters, but they also don’t know how to manage the public image of their players.

So, the really bad news is that baseball has openly lowered its standards.  You don’t have to hustle anymore, folks — especially if you’re a ticking time-bomb with a slingshot arm and a once-sore hammy that has now fully healed, leaving no pain.

Indeed, Cy Young is rolling in his grave.

Okay, so I gotta ask:  If Zambrano feels no pain then why won’t he be hustling on the field? 

In the wake of steroids, with pandemic doubt blanketing the game from New York to Los Angeles to Los Angeles of Anaheim, the last thing we (and especially Cubs) fans need is to know that some players aren’t giving it their all and that management is okay with that.  If you’re not healthy enough to play the game the way the game is supposed to be played, then you shouldn’t be playing the game… I don’t care how talented you are.

Note to Cubs: either sew Zambrano’s mouth shut or hire a new P.R. person.  I got just the guy for you too — even colored his hair to match your duds:

perez hilton.jpgDon’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

Fortnightly Cravings

colonel_sanders_statue.jpgThe WBC has seen an outpouring of international baseball love that seems to be carrying over into transnational baseball interactions. For instance, within the past week, a Japanese baseball team found the drowned statue of Colonel Sanders that had doomed it to playoff failure for the past 24 years and, in an act of selflessness, offered the bearded Kentuckian’s services to the Cubs. But the Cubs have supreme confidence that this really, finally is their year and have declined the offer.

Now, I’m not the most superstitious guy in the world but even I think that after a 100 year drought, maybe it’s time to try something, anything, in hopes that it will finally end the curse. When this is an accurate video representation of your past 100 seasons:

…can the filth stained statue of a recently de-bespectacled purveyor of 11 herbs and spices really make things any worse?

Instead, it appears that the Cubs will continue to rely on the combination of Old Style beer and frat boy loser-dom that has netted them so much success over the last century. Then again, the Colonel and his “finger-lickin’ good” chicken would probably spell disaster for Zambrano so maybe it is a good thing. I never trusted him anyway, with those “wee beady eyes.”

-A

Credits:
-Story and photo from Deadspin
-Video from The Daily Dish

Here’s Your RSBS Democracy

Axl Ali.jpgWell, “they” were wrong about something. Guns N’ Roses have officially released “Chinese Democracy” but the People’s Republic of China is still, well, the People’s Republic of China. Nice work, Axl. “Chinese Democracy” did come along before Chinese democracy. Sometimes proving the other guys wrong is a victory in and of itself.

Sadly, my good friend Mr. Lung is no Axl Rose. Now, god love him, he sure tries and you would think from his tag line (“Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right”) that he is often right. But, that would make you just as wrong as the anonymous “they.” Simply saying something doesn’t make it true.

For instance, if you were to ask Mr. Lung about Lou Piniella winning the NL Manager of the Year award this year, he’d say something like, “And how is it that Lou Piniella received the Manager of the Year Award?” I know this because that is exactly what he did say earlier this month. Now, I didn’t address this somewhat egregious statement at the time but I feel it is only fair to do so now.

The fact of the matter is that Lou deserved that award. Yes, he had a great team given to him and yes, there were very high expectations. But he also proved his managerial chops in navigating a way through those high salaries and high-strung temperaments. He made a bold and at first maligned move by switching Kerry Wood to closer and it ended up paying off huge dividends. He found a way to work around Soriano’s injuries and even packed away Michael Barrett when it became obvious that he and Zambrano couldn’t be in the same clubhouse. For charting those waters while in the glare of the Chicago media alone I’d say he deserved the award, not to mention the best record in the NL and a second consecutive playoff berth.

So, Mr. Lung, I guess my advice to you is to leave the boasts and the idle threats to those who do them best. You, my friend, are no Hugo Chavez nor should you aspire to be.

-A

Stonewall This!

big z.jpgMr. Sarah Palin (that would be Todd) apparently isn’t the only one stonewalling these days.  No.  Adam Kennedy and the Cardinals’ assault on the previously crowned no-hit wonder Dragon Ball “Z” proved that the Chicago Cubs are not ready to clinch the division.

After having bedazzled the bejesus out of all of us in his last start against the Astros, Zambrano only lasted 1 1/3 while showing his trademark signs of being Zambrano: throwing temper tantrums on the mound, mean mugging umpires, yapping obscenities to himself (or to whoever listen). 

In essence, he acted like a big baby.

In fact, I dug up this old video archive of Big Z playing some video games:

But that’s nothing new.  Perhaps it is a solemn reminder that the Cubs have a lot of growing up to do before they’re ready to overcome the 400 lb. gorrilla in the room. 

Inevitable as it may be, I hope and pray that the Cubs find it in themselves to be themselves and not clinch while playing my dear yet nearly hopeless Cardinals.  Perhaps the Brian Bartons and Brendan Ryans of the Redbirds can find ways to stonewall the Cubs’ clincher… at least until next week. 

In the meantime, while juggling the intricacies of stonewalling the Troopergate investigation and misleading US Americans with her cheery hockey mom charm, hopefully Gov. Palin will come to the realization that despite her longing hopes for a quick ascension, as of right now, she still isn’t at the top of the ticket… though, to hear her say it, you wouldn’t know it:

Yikes!  That might — quite possibly — be the scariest thing I’ve ever heard.

Don’t hate me… ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeffy

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