Results tagged ‘ Giants ’
As a Cardinals fan living in the Chi, the baseball season never really begins for me until St. Louis comes to town and I get my first taste of blood as I camp out at Wrigley for a weekend. Black eyes, sprained ankles, hoarse voice… all welcome reminders of just how deep (and serious) this rivalry can be.
But the older I get, the clearer I see, which is why I can say with brutal honesty that the Chicago Cubs are the absolute best rival a fan could ask for.
Yep. That’s right. They’re the best. Because they don’t… win… championships.
Think about it. Yankees fans, remember how awful you felt when the Red Sox overcame in 2004? And what about having to watch Papelbon’s antics during the 2007 run? Reverse that and imagine the utter malcontent suffered by the Red Sox for eons while the Yankees ran up the World Series trophy count.
Giants fans must’ve been sick watching Kirk Gibson’s shot in 1988. And likewise, those Dodgers fans who saw Willie Mays’ catch seal the deal in 1954 couldn’t have been too happy.
But we Cardinals fans… seriously, what the hell do we have to be sick about? We have the best player in baseball, we have arguably the best manager in baseball, and our arch rivals haven’t won jack scheisse in over 100 years.
With that in mind, as I prepare for the annual battle that is Cubs v. Cards, this year I’m gonna focus on the fact that this rivalry is a lame duck rivalry — that I can be confident my team will be better. Therefore I am going to focus on the visual pleasantries that (surprisingly) can be found in abundance at the Friendly Confines.
Now, wish me luck.
Hate me ‘cuz I try to see all the angles, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
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The virgin voyage, y’all!
Okay, so you knew this was gonna happen eventually… just enjoy it. We did!
And so in this Podcast…
Jeff introduces Chicago rock phenom and avid Cubs fan, Johanna Mahmud to the RSBS family. When not front-manning the intoxicating alt-rock group, Meqqa, Johanna manages to drink Jeff’s beer and fantasize about a team made up of twenty-five Alfonso Sorianos. Okay. That second part may be a lie… but this part ain’t: when these two guys start talkin’ baseball, it’s all fun and games. Among the topics of discussion: Roy Oswalt’s bulldozer, Lou Piniella’s preggers look, the Brendan Ryan pornostache hysteria, Hanley’s lollipop and much, much more.
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*Special thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and all-around sound guru. He always knows where Ryne Sandberg is. Always.
For more on Meqqa, please visit their website *CLICK ME!*
Recorded Saturday, May 22, 2010
Considering the Cardinals just dropped their first series of the year to a splendidly stellar Giants club that miraculously unearthed the early aught version of Barry Zito, I guess you are probably expecting a lament.
I ain’t got it in me.
But I did learn something very valuable over the weekend:
Hate me ‘cuz it’s Monday, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Guys, the season is starting in a few days and I still haven’t seen an
honest to god prediction out of you yet. What do you think? Is there
anyone who can keep the Yankees from repeating?
We haven’t made any predictions yet? Oh yeah, I guess predicting that the Detroit Tigers will suck this year isn’t really a prediction, it’s just a known fact. Considering that it is that time of year when everyone is making some sort of bold statement as to who is gonna win and who isn’t, I think you’re right, Lee. It is time for RSBS to jump into the prognostication pool (that sounds like something one would find in Vegas) and so we do as only we at RSBS (I, Jeff, not Al ‘cuz he’s a slacker) know how.
(subliminal messages start now)
Compared to its AL counterpart, this division isn’t quite the sexy beast it used to be. The team to beat is the Phillies; and while the Mets look to give a better effort than last year if healthy while the Braves and Marlins lurk behind with plenty of potential, I still don’t see how the Phillies can lose this division. Oh wait. Yes I can; his name is Brad Lidge.
Yet I think the Phils still win it. Ya can’t get much worse than Lidge was last year and they still won the league.
Come now, is there really any competition here? Yeah, sure the Brewers can bop with the best of them but have you seen their pitching staff? Exactly. The sCrUBS? Er…. no. The Astros? Stop playin’. The Pirates? The Pirates!?!? Ha! The only team in this division who might give the Cardinals a run is the Cincinnati Reds, and for that to happen Aroldis Chapman and Johnny Cueto have to both deliver the goods like seasoned professionals (they’re not) and Aaron Harang would have to keep his ERA under 10 (he won’t)… not to mention the fact that Dusty Baker would have to not destroy someone’s arm (he will).
Cardinals. No question.
Hmm. This is an interesting division. My heart says San Fransisco but my heart also says I should be able to drink a fifth of scotch and still be able to dance the merengue with some amount of poise. In other words, my heart is a goddamn liar. There are too many question marks in the Dodgers young pitching staff that I can’t put my money on them. So I turn towards the Rockies — a team with balance, a team with Tulo, a team with purple pinstripes.
San Francisco joins as the Wild Card.
Yankees, Red Sox, Yankees, Red Sox… bla bla bla. Not this year, folks. Yankees, Rays, Yankees, Rays… and Brian Matusz. The Yankees are the best in baseball. Hard to argue against that. The 2010 Red Sox are not the Red Sox we’re used to seeing. They made a major mistake by not bringing back Jason Bay and they’re gonna suffer for it. The Rays… this is the year for them. It’s now or never. And just for fun, let it be known that Brian Matusz of the Baltimore Orioles is one hell of a pitching phenom and a reason to tune into their games every once in a while.
Yankees win without even trying.
Rays take the Wild Card.
With so much money going towards roster scrubs and the recently anointed singles-machine, Magglio Ordonez, the Tigers of 2010 will look more like the Tigers of 2003. Okay, maybe not that bad, but still, they ain’t goin’ anywhere. The Twins will be in the race, but I suspect they will be playing a lot of doubleheaders this year due to that new open air stadium; and their team is still built for turf. I don’t see them catching the White Sox, who in my opinion have the best starting five of any other team in the Majors. If Peavy stays healthy and Floyd and Danks kick it up a notch, I don’t see how they could be beat. Keep your eye on Gordon Beckham too. He’s gonna be a superstar.
Like its National League version, this division causes me fits. The Rangers are right on the cusp of doing something great; but then I look at their pitching staff and see a bunch of crooked numbers on the board against them. The A’s? Uh… no offense, but if you rely on Kurt Suzuki to produce all your offense, I cannot take you seriously. The Mariners look like they should be much improved; but I’m not drinking that kool-aid yet ‘cuz as of now, they haven’t done jack. And how can I possibly bet against a proven winner, a team that gets it done year after year after year?
The Angels win the West. Why? ‘Cuz they do everything right.
And they have a rally monkey.
Now when you put all these pretty teams together, choosing one over the other is no easy task. They’re all
yummy winners. They’re all well-proportioned hot. They’re all doable talented.
So what is one to do?
Personally, I like to fantasize about a world where they’re all in the same room, having fun and going at it with uncompromising competitive bite. But understanding how unrealistic that is, I guess I have no choice but to choose one.
And again, my lying, cheating, pipe-dreaming heart tells me that the Cardinals are better than the Yankees. Yet, I’m smart enough to know that saying as much is not only unrealistic, it’s just plain fantasy.
Still, one can dream, right?
Hate me ‘cuz I get ya all flustered, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
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(all images scraped from the interwebs)
What’d you guys think of your boy Zito drilling Prince Fielder for his
earthquake celebration? It’s only spring training and we’re already
seeing fireworks?!? What’s your take?
Flush from yet another amazing Super Bowl game, the NFL recently took out its manhood, held it in both hands while staring proudly and then swiftly and viciously emasculated itself, leaving nothing but a bloody stump. You like touchdown celebrations? Well, let’s see how much you like them when it means giving the other team 15 yards on the kickoff.
Ostensibly, the owners made this decision to protect the game. After all, football is a team sport that involves no individual glory and this is why players are all paid the exact same amount. Oh, they aren’t? Uh, nevermind then.
My point is, the NFL could take a lesson from MLB and how it deals with this sort of issue. Guys like Prince Fielder are free to celebrate their heroics however they want. If that means running around the bases quickly with their head down, that’s fine. And if it means setting up a choreographed event at home plate with your teammates, that’s fine, too. But you’re going to have to face the consequences.
The consequences for Prince’s actions were a plunk in the back. Prince has adequate padding so I’m sure there will not be any long lasting effects. But it did let the Brewers know their actions hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sure, it’s sad that it had to come from close personal friend of RSBS, Barry Zito, but them’s the breaks.
That’s the thing. Baseball has rules against retaliation but unless it’s so blatant as to be unignorable, most umps are going to turn the other way. It’s part of the game and has been for a long time. In fact, this is probably one of those few areas where orthodox fans like Mr. Lung and reformed fans like myself can find grounds for agreement. Baseball is a game where things get settled on the field (unless you’re Michael Barrett and Carlos Zambrano) and the NFL could take a lesson.
Let a guy like TO or Ochocinco do a little dance and get down after making a spectacular catch. And then let them put 2 and 2 together when they get their teeth knocked out the next time they catch a ball. It won’t take long before the celebrations get tempered of their own accord.
That things like these go without saying is part of what makes baseball a great game. It’s not just about individual valor and team glory. It’s also the tradition and the melodrama. You think the Brewers will have forgotten that “pitch that got away” the next time they’re playing the Giants? And do you think the Giants will go easy on Fielder the next time he’s up to bat? No way, man. And that’s just one more reason to be watching those games.
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Put your clothes back on. Cap off that fifth of Jack. Call yourself a cab.
The San Francisco Giants’ perpetual playoff philandering is as done as Sarah Palin’s political career.
It is sunk.
And just in case you need proof, here it is, written all over Nate Schierholtz’s face:
Oh sure, we can sit around and discuss how their dominating pitching staff could possibly get them over the Rockies hump and into the wild card spot if only the offense could score runs. We could ruminate on the occasional power surges put forth by Pablo Sandoval and Bengie Molina. Indeed, we could waste a lot of time talking about the Giants in general.
But the point is this: Good pitching may beat good hitting but if ya don’t score any runs you can’t win a damn thing.
And that’s why the Giants should be thinking about what kind of offense they are going to bring in during the offseason for 2010 and let the 2009 playoff dreams slip back down to reality.
Like most parties, it sure was fun while it lasted; but in the end you wake up and find the girl next to you isn’t quite the supermodel you thought she was — that those aren’t freckles on her face, those are… er… sores that you couldn’t see during your drunken stupor of endemic idiocy the night before.
Or, you just get all excited about your big party and end up in the burn unit like this guy:
It happens. Parties end. Occasionally your hair will catch on fire.
Deal with it.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Schierholtz Photo by Ezra Shaw/Getty Images)
The beautiful thing about the politics of today and yesterday is that one thing remains the same. No matter whether you’re wrong or right, all you have to do is make some sort of ad hominem attack and it will get you air time.
This has become increasingly true during the normally boring Washington summers when the news channels are just itching for something to break the tedium of the recess. And this year has provided plenty of sparks. Dick Cheney has made himself more accessible than he was during the eight years of Bush’s presidency, emerging on a regular basis to proclaim that Obama is making the country less safe. And everyone seems to be lining up to take a whack at the universal health care plan although it’s interesting to note how many of those people already have insurance.
But I also realized something. Baseball is seriously lacking these same types of attacks. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it before but at this time of the year, when all the races are heating up, where’s the fire? Why aren’t the Giants and Rockies cracking on each others’ mothers? Why aren’t the Rangers poking fun at Pedroia’s size? And why aren’t the Tigers and Twins provoking Ozzie Guillen into even crazier rants?
C’mon people. This is baseball. America’s pastime. And you know what else America is home to? The yo’ mama joke. See the connection? Ok, let’s get on it. I’ll start. Albert Pujols’ mama is so dumb, she thinks a shortstop is when she runs into 7/11 for a hotdog and a Slurpee.
The truth is: I was going to leave this one in the proverbial scrap pile of unprocessed information otherwise known as my oft useless brain, but after reading this touching letter to Colorado Rockies shortstop Troy Tulowitski, I decided this might have a place.
I mean, I already infuriated Barry Zito (or at least his handlers) earlier this year by writing the truth: that during his Giants tenure, he hasn’t performed as well as that lofty contract might suggest. Before I knew it he was blocking me from his Twitter account and I was wallowing in the kind of sorrow that only comes from not knowing what band Barry Zito thinks “rocks” or what type of scarf he’s going to wear to the polo club to impress his famously hot girlfriends.
So I certainly hope that when I call out Padres pitching prospect, Mat Latos, for acting like a bratty child during pre-game activities at this year’s Futures Game, that he doesn’t block me from watching his so-called Tim Lincecum-like delivery on MLB.TV.
Oh wait. Why would I ever want to watch a Padres game? Nevermind.
Still, much like the young fireballer Latos, I too am trying to become established, to make a name for myself, to be noticed. And the truth is, Mat, you and I, we can be a team. Maybe…
First you will have to brush up on your people skills. For example, when little kids ask you to toss a batting practice ball up to them in the stands, I wouldn’t fake-throw it (like one tends to do with his dog because watching a dog chase nothing is funny) then laugh with your buddies at how clever you are. And I also wouldn’t spend most of that shagging time trying to launch errant balls high up into the upper decks (and fail miserably) because those balls were falling down onto we little people at high speeds and someone could have gotten hurt.
See, the thing is, Mat, I know you’re young and all that talent has probably gotten to you; still, remember that you’re living a dream — that you have been gifted with the ability to play a game… for a living — and that your personality on and off the field will have a whole lot to do with how we plebeian fans perceive you. Don’t care how the fans perceive you? See Barry Bonds for more information on how it can go horribly wrong.
Lucky for you, Mat, I’m a pretty understanding guy. And I can be a snot-nose sometimes too. I won’t fault you for that… but remember who you are aiming your snot-nosedness at, Mat. The kids. Remember the kids.
Those kids — kids who look up to you even though they have no idea who you are, ‘cuz let’s face it, right now you’re a nobody just like Lastings Milledge is a nobody — those kids, when you mess with them, they don’t take it so well.
Remember that and you will be good to go. I almost guarantee it. Okay, I sorta guarantee it.
Good luck, Mat! Hope to see you around the ballpark and maybe — if you feel lucky — you might even consider attacking my character… when you get a break from being the next Tim Lincecum that is…
Hate me ‘cuz I call ’em out, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(“Crying Kids” image courtesy of The B.S. Report)
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.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
RSBS works hard for you, dear readers. We toil. We sweat. We drink a lot of beer.
And last night was no different.
Utilizing my entire working catalogue of international sleuthery, I managed to catch up with Randy Johnson and Gary Sheffield for a fantastic photo opportunity prior to the start of the Mets/Giants game:
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.