Results tagged ‘ Cheap Shots ’
Just like a rainbow themed slap bracelet, this is gonna be loud, colorful and could quite possibly cause a ripple in your otherwise tame relationship.
The Iron Fist of King Bud’s Court
Troy Tulowitzki pisses off Ubaldo Jimenez. Jimenez subsequently beans Tulowitzki. Jimenez gets slammed with a 5-game suspension. And speaks:
“I can’t control what people say. People act like this is the first time that somebody got hit. It happens in the game. That’s part of the game. It’s always been part of the game.”
Ubaldo is right. We don’t know if it was on purpose. Beanballs happen all the time. We can assume it was intentional considering the circumstances, but we can’t be sure beyond a reasonable doubt. This is the beauty of the unwritten rules of baseball, a game where players police themselves and do what they gotta do to survive. But alas, there is no constitution in King Bud’s dictatorship. If these guys didn’t bank millions of dollars I’d expect an uprise.
If Only 4 Days Meant “Forever”
Pennsylvania Taliban leader, Rick Santorum, is taking 4 days off from his fledgeling (not to mention INSANE) republican primary campaign. Why? I dunno. Maybe he realizes a 4th grade life skills level isn’t enough to be in such a demanding position. Maybe he fears a widespread Santorum epidemic. Or maybe his invisible friend in the sky who hates women and gay people told him to. I don’t know. I only wish it were forever.
The Heat Is On!
Baseball is back to FULL THROTTLE, my friends, and that means no more dirt kickin’, no more gloomy day sobfests, no more Perfect Strangers marathons on sleepless nights (okay, maybe I can’t go that far, yet). But the truth is: baseball is back for a long, long time. So let’s live! To celebrate, Igive you the song I remember most from my youthful, endless summers at Busch II. Whenever I hear this song, I immediately picture an Ozzie to Tommy to Jack double-play.
What does a World Champion do to his World Champion pal on April Fool’s Day?
Berkman plays truck prank on Wainwright
By Jenifer Langosch / MLB.com
JUPITER, Fla. — Lance Berkman and several Cardinals teammates helped pull off a terrific April Fools’ joke on Adam Wainwright during Sunday’s game.
The pranksters had the public address announcer give away a car to a fan, who, playing along with the gag, ran onto the field to collect his gift. Berkman drove the vehicle — Wainwright’s white Chevy Silverado — onto the field and past an unsuspecting Wainwright, who did a double-take at the license plate while sitting in the dugout.
The winning fan, who was David Freese’s cousin, jumped into the back of the truck and Berkman drove out of the stadium.
I love being witness to the shenanigans baseballers indulge in. And I ain’t talkin’ about chicken, beer and video game shenanigans.
I’m talkin’ about bubble gum caps, the infamous “hot foot”, and my personal favorite, the post home run silent treatment. In my opinion, Alex Rodriguez is the best at dishing this one out to unsuspecting rookies. Every time I see it happen I literally L-O-L.
Another hilarious prank that takes place almost every single day of the season is what happens (or doesn’t happen) at Wrigley Field from April to September, though that’s another post for another day.
Hate me. It’s all good. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
The recent New York Times editorial/open letter from a former Goldman Sachs employee appears to have opened the floodgates to those seeking to leave behind a no longer fulfilling employment. However, RSBS was still shocked when the following letter arrived in our inbox the other day signed simply, Bud S.
TODAY is my last day at MLB. After more than 40 years at the organization — first as a minority owner of the Milwaukee Braves, then in bringing the Seattle Pilots to Milwaukee and renaming them the Brewers, and now as commissioner — I believe I have worked here long enough to understand the trajectory of its culture, its people and its identity. And I can honestly say that the environment now is as toxic and destructive as I have ever seen it.
But this was not always the case. For instance, over more than a decade I made sure that steroids not only entered the game but also redefined it. By looking the other way while Sammy, Mark and Barry launched bomb after artificially powered bomb, I ensured that baseball once again excited the ordinary American that had been lured away by the corn syrup sweetness of NASCAR and the NFL.
I knew it was time to leave when I realized I could no longer look players in the eye and tell them they could continue to juice.
How did we get here? The organization changed the way it thought about owners. Ownership used to be about overcharging fans, merchandising everything from jock straps to girly colored hats and looking the other way while players shot ‘roids in the locker room. Today, if you treat the team as your personal piggy bank (and use its assets to pay off the divorce settlement with your crazy ex-wife) you will lose the team and the money from its lucrative TV rights.
There used to be three quick ways to become a leader among owners: a) Execute on the organization’s “axes,” which is MLB-speak for persuading your fans to buy tickets or other products that we are trying to get rid of because they are not seen as having a lot of potential profit. b) “Hunt Elephants.” In English: get your fans — some of whom are sophisticated, and some of whom aren’t — to buy whatever will bring the biggest profit to MLB. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t like selling my clients a product that is wrong for them. I prefer to sell them at least three. c) Find yourself sitting in a seat where your job is to trade any washed-up, aging slugger for much more than he’s worth. Adam Dunn, anyone?
Today, though, many owners display an MLB culture quotient of exactly zero percent. I attend postseason merchandising and ticket sales meetings where not one single minute is spent asking questions about how we can help owners or hose fans. It’s purely about how we can make this a “September to Remember.” If you were an alien from Mars and sat in on one of these meetings, you would believe that an owners’ success or pocketbook was not part of the thought process at all.
When I was a minority owner I didn’t know where the bathroom was, or how to tie my shoelaces. I was taught to be concerned with learning the ropes, finding out how to charge more for cheaper hotdogs, understanding the process of selling the same volume of beer at three different (and increasingly more expensive) prices, getting to know our players and what motivated them while making sure they had a safe place and a helping hand when injecting steroids in their asses.
My proudest moments in life — owning a Brewers team that posted one of the worst winning percentages over a ten-year period in the history of baseball, joining other owners in colluding and then helping pay the $280 million settlement, overseeing the worst All-Star game in the history of baseball — have all come through focusing on profits and passing the prices on to the fans. MLB today has become too much “the fan experience” and not enough about soaking the suckers. It just doesn’t feel right to me anymore.
I hope this can be a wake-up call to the owners. Make your fellow owners the focal point of your business again. Without fans you will not make money. In fact, you will not exist. But fans are simple-minded sheep who will do whatever you want so don’t worry about them. Get the culture right again, so people want to work here for the right reasons: steroids and making money for the owners. People who care only about making fans happy will not sustain this organization — or the trust of the owners — for very much longer.
Okay, I’m not Irish. I’m Scottish. We make the whisky. But when it comes to beer, it just doesn’t get any better than Ireland’s very own Guinness!!! I’m assuming you already have a pint in your hand. If not, GET ONE!
And while doing so, please take a moment to join RSBS and Guinness in setting the world record for the largest St. Patrick’s Day party on the planet! It’s easy. Just go to Guinness.com, verify you’re 21 years or older, then click “Join The Party.” Just type in your first name, country and zip code and then in the “optional code” box, enter the code “REDS” and Guinness will send $1 to RSBS, a dollar which we’ll be donating to Baseball Tomorrow Fund participant, Noble Network Charter Schools.
To show our appreciation, think on the following:
And the only active baseballers I can think of named Patrick right now are… none! Since Pat the Bat retired, I can’t think of a single one player named Patrick.
So that would be right around the same time the Cubs celebrate 8,853 years without a World Series title.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
Last year the Pirates tried to put an end to my relentless attack of literary low blows. Shortly after the All-Star break they were atop the NL Central and my head was appropriately buried in the sand (not kidding; by the way, it sucks.)
But then came Jerry Meals’ blown call and down, down, DOWN came the Pirates, settling into yet another comfortably uncomfortable 90 loss season.
Look, I’ve been burned before too, so I sorta feel for Pittsburgh. At the same time, insanity is still doing the same things over and over again expecting different results, right? So why should anyone in Pirate land be surprised?
THE FRONT OFFICE AIN’T DOIN’ IT RIGHT.
With the exception of Andrew McCutchen in 2005, the last 20 first round draft picks taken by Pittsburgh is a who’s who list of overblown talent busts. Among the KINGS OF NOBODYLAND are the likes of Bobby Bradley (1999), John VanBenschoten (2001) and Bryan Bullington (2002) — great sounding names, but swings and misses nonetheless.
Neal Huntington and the rest of the front office can say they’re doing things differently, but as long as they keep hoping Pedro Alvarez spends as much time perfecting his baseball tools as he does looking at the ground feeling sorry for himself, I’m afraid they have a long way to go.
Isn’t it about time they bring up those two Indian dudes?
Hate me. It’s all good. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I love it when the old timers show up at spring training. Decked out in jerseys that don’t fit and pants that would be better off… well, off (and hopefully replaced by something baggy), seeing them throwing BP and shagging flies always gets me to smile.
So when I heard Kenny Rogers was in Tigers camp I quickly browsed the internets for proof. Though I was surprised to see Kenny has taken on the Prince Fielder diet (good grief, don’t ex-baseballers know about portion control???), I was pleased to see that he still has that gruff go-EFF-yerself demeanor.
Too bad I couldn’t find any recent pictures of his left hand. The last time I saw it, it was pissing me off.
I even searched the YouTubes to see if said hand was still up to its dirty tricks and this is what I found:
Bummer. Couldn’t get a good look. Still, the Jack Daniels is a nice touch, especially for a spring training camp that includes Miguel Cabrera.
Hate me. It’s all good. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Image courtesy of Brad Galli)
Just like A.J. Burnett in a Pirates uni, this is going to be ugly, moan-inducing and might even warrant a trip straight to the DL.
New MLB Playoff Format
In short, I like it. It emphasizes winning the division, makes trade deadline trades more suspect and guarantees drama as we enter the postseason. The only thing I can think of that would make this arrangement better is to skip the one game playoff and force each wild card team’s manager to do a keg stand before engaging in a last-man-standing no-holds-barred boxing tournament. My money is on Ron Washington. Cocaine makes ya crrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaazzzyyy!
Bigots Leading the Republican Party
Whether it’s the Pennsylvanian Taliban or the Ditto Führer of Ignorance himself , I’m getting quite tired of seeing Abe Lincoln’s party fall victim to mass idiocy. But I found something that will really cause ‘em to scratch their heads:
Yadier Molina: Five More Years
Halle-FRACKIN-lujah!!! Seriously, I cannot even begin to tell you how happy this makes me. To those outside of the St. Louis Cardinals family, such jubliation may not seem warranted, but let me assure you: this is a grand, grand deal for all involved. Say what you will about Albert’s tenure, Yadier Molina is the absolute heart and soul of the St. Louis Cardinals. And everyone’s happy now. Yadi’s happy. Front office is happy. The fans are happy.
In the Twittersphere, we at RSBS have a reputation for taking cheap shots at Prince Fielder’s… er… um… corpulence (good word, interns!). While we do a good job of avoiding the F-word (no, the OTHER F-word, silly), we cannot help but point out the absurdity that is Prince Fielder’s physique.
Dude is big, as in I’s hongry big. He does not have an athletic body. Yet he’s just as athletic an athlete as you’re apt to find these days when it comes to production.
Prince is an anomaly though. An anachronism, even. He’s the digital watch in Glory in that HE SHOULDN’T BE WHERE HE IS.
Except he is.
How did he get here?
I call McDonald’s’ bluff. If it were really that easy — to just stuff one’s face full of awful simulated food product — then nearly all of US America would be getting paid by a Big League club right now.
In Prince’s case, I gotta think it’s the genes that make it all too easy.
Don’t hate me. ‘Cuz I’m right.
When Pat Burrell announced his retirement yesterday, I thought very hard about what exact moment I will always remember him for. Except, I couldn’t really think of anything.
Oh sure, there was that whole sparking the 2010 San Francisco Giants’ lineup towards a World Series crown thing as well as his square Phillie pinstripes and catchy nickname. But what else? What is that one specific Pat Burrell moment I’ll always hold on to, forever and ever?
And then I remembered: June 15, 2011.
The Diamondbacks were hosting the San Francisco Giants that evening and when Chris Young laced a Madison Bumgarner fastball deep to left in the fourth inning, everyone in the ballpark knew it was gone. Everyone EXCEPT for Pat Burrell.
That’s right. Pat was on a mission. In fact, Pat charged backwards with his trademark slow, awkward steps. But he was DETERMINED and his eyes never left the ball, and he ran AT FULL SPEED until…
The video of this feat is HILARIOUS. Everyone in the entire stadium knew that ball was gone, but Pat tried to channel his inner honey badger and take it down anyway. He just forgot about that whole wall thing being there.
If MLB had any sense of humor they would make the video of this Pat Burrell career highlight available, but alas, MLB is still run by King Bud, and fun is not allowed.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Without question, the blockbuster Prince Fielder-Detroit Tigers signing shock-and-awed the baseball universe. But for those who huddle en masse around 35th and Shields, still hanging on to what little hope may have remained for the critically criticized 2012 White Sox club, such news only served as confirmation for a long, slow, painful baseball season death.
Will this Irish keening ever stop?!?! A man needs his sleep!!!
Unfortunately, with the likes of Jake Peavy ($17 million), Alex Rios ($12+ million/year through 2014) and Adam Dunn ($14+ million/year through 2014) holding the team hostage with their collective astronomically unbalanced compensation-to-performance ratios, it appears the situation in Bridgeport is only going to get worse before it gets better.
Which forces the question: what is the shelf life on a Gordon Beckham? Once the “untouchable dealbreaker” in any high profile trade, it seems like the former first round draft pick is doing his very best Brandon Wood impression. In fact, there were times last season where Beckham looked as clueless on the diamond as Rick Santorum would at a gay foam party on the beach.
Sox fans can only take so much of “I’m going to work on some things and get better” before they realize YOU’RE LYING. YOU’RE NOT VERY GOOD. STOP TALKING.
In fact, the dour mood of the White Sox organization might benefit from a colossal dose of shut-the-hell-up. People are tired of hearing Jake Peavy say… anything. People are tired of the excuses for why Gordon Beckham just isn’t that good. People are tired. Period.
Unfortunately, it looks like that “tired” is going to morph into a bonafide coma, at least through 2014.
Hate me. Go ahead. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.