Results tagged ‘ Kyle Farnsworth ’
When did Brad Lidge become such an object of disdain for this blog? I mean, Kyle Farnsworth I can understand because, well, because he’s Kyle Farnsworth. But Lidge? Yeah, maybe he’s not having a stellar season but after what he did last year, the guy deserves a little bit of a break.
Now, maybe this is easier for me to say because, as a Tigers’ fan, I routinely have to deal with the endless frustration that is Brandon Lyon and Fernando Rodney. I thought that Todd Jones’ retirement meant I wouldn’t have to sit on the edge of my seat anymore when we had a one-run lead in the ninth inning.
But Brad Lidge? He’s not even a Cub! I get the hatred and disgust for Milton Bradley. I approve of and advocate more of the same for Farnsworth. But Lidge? Nah. He’s no Mitch Williams. He’s not really any sort of appropriate object for scorn.
So, Mr. Lung, what gives? Why don’t you tell us what’s really going on? Did Brad Lidge not sign your baseball card? Did you write him a fan letter and he didn’t respond? Or maybe a love letter and he blew you off? Inquiring minds want to know.
During this summer of über celebrity deaths and disturbing political failures, I have been very reluctant to address the most disappointing development of the 2009 Major League Baseball season. But alas, my faith (and patience) has finally come to a vitriolic end; and I have no other choice than to accept it:
Dear readers, the comedy genius of Coco Crisp is dead.
Perhaps it was always too good to be true — that the perfect storm of a fledgling, Twitter-happy, center fielder with the intelligence of a midge and a hapless baseball team touting the skills of Kyle Farnsworth would be enough to entertain me from now until October.
Indeed, it was good while it lasted. With his nonsensical, grammatically-challenged rhetorical tweets, Coco succeeded in technocracy where he failed as a Royal. But then he went on the disabled list and, finally, had season-ending surgery.
He tweeted a few times after he hung it up for the year; but sadly, he has not tweeted since June 24th and the absence of his familiar incoherency has left us all grieving.
On this day, Coco, we remember your last golden quip:
OK i officially
have a new (baseball) disease called PPA (Piss Poor Aim). Everytime i
hit a ball hard PPA kicks in. There has to be a cure.
There is no cure, Coco. If there were, well, you would’ve done much better than .228.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
**We tweet. And we like to think we can pick up the Coco-comedy slack. Follow us! @RSBS
There was a time when LaTroy Hawkins acted as a personal savior of mine; because I knew the minute he came into a ballgame wearing that Cubs uniform, the chances of them losing took an astronomical leap. While those days may be over — and the nomination of the world’s worst reliever has shifted to the awkwardly clumsy Kyle Farnsworth — I am happy to report that LaTroy Hawkins has given me yet another reason to worship him.
During Monday night’s game against the Cubs — as an Astro — Hawkins verbally and physically questioned the merits of homeplate umpire Mike Everitt, which eventually got him tossed. Since then, Hawkins has suffered from a severe case of logorrhea and has had no problem jawing out at Everitt. Now, Major League Baseball is investigating the incident.
“I have my own opinion, and he had his opinion,” he [Hawkins] said. “He [Everitt] thought I was showing him up. I saw Alex Rodriguez do way worse when I was in the American League. He undressed the umpire. Whatever he said, it was in his face. It’s America.”
You’re damn right, LaTroy! It is America! It’s US America and I don’t care who you are — Alex Rodriguez or not — one should never be allowed to undress the umpire. Who does this Rodriguez fella think he is anyway? Some pretty boy poster child for Details magazine? What a pompous sicko!
We applaud you, LaTroy, for saying what we were all thinking and going after the bad guys behind the plate.
And in the future, LaTroy, instead of getting into a war of words — a war that is rarely won by a journeyman reliever — you may want to follow the stellar example set by Chinese professional athletes and just pulverize your enemy:
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
My esteemed colleague, Mr. Lung, called me out recently (ok, yesterday) about the fact that I have not yet lived up to my end of the bargain we made regarding the Tigers-Cardinals series this past weekend. And he’s right, I haven’t. However, I want to assure him and our readers that I’m good on my word and I will pay up in full very soon.
See, there’s a problem out there today. We all have responsibilities in life and it’s important that we live up to them. For instance, Kyle Farnsworth is responsible for providing me with tales of his suckitude and for that I thank him because he completely fulfills that role. Likewise, the Cardinals will continue to disappoint Jeff after that high point they hit in 2006 and when his man-crush, Albert, leaves in a couple years, he’ll be left with nothing but a DVD set of highlights from that magical year.
There’s another thing we could always count on, though, which isn’t so true anymore: ballplayers being there for us. Things like calling home run shots, hitting one out of the park for a sick kid or being there before and after the game to sign autographs. But that’s just not the case anymore.
For instance, the new Yankee Stadium was purposely designed not to be the most fan friendly place and when you’re paying a week’s salary to go to the game, well, that kind of matters. And I’m sure every baseball fan has heard the Alex Rios story by now and seen the video. I’m not saying that harassing a ballplayer is justified but it seems like the distance between the players and the fans just keeps growing. Again, I’m not saying they should be going out for a beer with us after the game but is signing an autograph going to kill you, buddy?
Anyway, I guess my point is that I am not a Yankee, seeking to duck the fans and escape when the game is over nor am I an Alex Rios ignoring fans and autograph seekers. When it comes down to it, when I’m faced with my responsibilities, I man up and take care of it. However, unfortunately for Mr. Lung and our dear readers, I am a procrastinator so you’ll have to wait.
First of all my fine young friend, I want to thank you for taking the time to read our blog. Each one of our readers is a beautiful and unique snowflake and you are no different Jessie. Even if you are from Missouri.
But you know who is not a snowflake? Kyle Farnsworth. Nope, he’s an overpaid, overhyped bag of suck. On the bright side for Royals’ fans is the fact that Farnsworth hasn’t lost a game in ten days. Which is pretty good for him. However, his ERA has been steadily climbing and that’s not such a good thing. Well, unless you’re a fan of a rival AL Central team.
But to get to your question Jessie, you waggish little scamp, yes, we are tough on Farnsy. But did you ever think that maybe it’s because we love him? I mean, we’re always toughest on those we love, right? And to be fair, baseball would be a sad place without Kyle. Who would cry on camera when he finds out he’s traded? Who would constantly underwhelm us yet still receive ungodly amounts of money from each subsequent team?
Are we unfair, though? Absolutely not. He’s a public figure. I look at him like I do a politician. When a politician does something I don’t like, I have the right to criticize his or her performance because I help pay their salary. That makes them accountable to me. And when I buy a ticket to a baseball game or a new hat, I’m helping to pay the salary of all these baseball players. Do you see where I’m going with this Jessie, my intrepid little friend? If I’m paying part of your salary, I’ve earned the right to critique your performance. And to be quite frank, I would be remiss if I didn’t critique Mr. Farnsworth’s ongoing recital.
So Jessie, you impish little rascal, thank you for your insightful question but I hope the response has helped you see the light. Here at RSBS we are often tough on people and issues but we are never unfair. Except for maybe with A-Rod but that’s because he’s a d—-bag.
Everyone hates me! I don’t understand it. It’s like I’m the anti-Midas.
Instead of turning to gold, everything I touch turns to s**t. And now
they’re even booing me! I just want to be loved. What do I have to do
to be loved?
RSBS‘ dear readers know that I am always one for some good old japery, so I will ignore the fact that this question comes to us from a Hotmail address with the username LouBrockLover67 attached and assume that you, M. Bradley, were at one time a huge follower of the powerhouse Cardinal club of the mid to late 60s and just go with it. Of course, I am also secretly holding my breath that the Chicago Tribune gets word of this post and in digging through the RSBS archives publicizes the fact that I have called a certain M. Bradley a “whiny spoiled crybaby man-child” on more than at least twenty occasions. Hey, It worked for J-Rod and Raul Ibanez… ah… yes, a fettered blogger can dream; I suppose that is still legal and accepted (for now).
But, at this time, what causes my greatest concern is the notion that the Chicago Cubs are being hijacked by just one individual’s antics, gaffes and overall lack of production at the plate, which runs contrary to the the aged tradition of the Cubs’ losing woes being dependent on a complete team effort (or, more appropriately, the lack thereof).
Yes, M. Bradley, everything you touch does turn to s**t, but at least you have the good sense to throw it back into the stands — with only two outs. Look, they are going to boo you just like they boo Fukudome and Soriano and Lee, just like they booed Kyle Farnsworth and Jacque Jones and Keith Moreland before. Cub fans boo. That’s what they do. There ain’t no changing that.
Still, a less hostile playing environment at Wrigley could be had if you, M. Bradley follow these simple guidelines for success: a) hit over .230 b) bash a Gatorade cooler in the dugout with a bat and c) give back that $30 million and just play for the fun of it!
See? Now that was the easy part. Unfortunately, M. Bradley, since Northsiders have proven over the years that they are absolutely incapable of love (see Bartman, Sammy Sosa and Dusty Baker), I am afraid that you will just have to do without while patrolling the swirling winds of fickleness at Clark and Addison.
Beer. That is the only thing Cub fans love. Buy the right field bleacher bums a couple of rounds of beer with that fat, zero laden paycheck and you might just get the impression that you’re liked… sorta.
Until they sober up.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
***SEND US YOUR FILIBUSTERS****
Something on your mind? Want to see Jeff and Al sweat (separately, not together, eww)? Think you got a real stumper? Send us your Filibuster question(s) by commenting or emailing them to us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
***Pictures of Sarah Palin in a swimsuit also welcome.
Having barely recovered from my colleague’s audacious yet titillating post from yesterday, which featured the buxom awesomeness of one Erin Andrews, I am sure you can imagine how exhausted I was this afternoon. I was so worn out that I almost didn’t even have the energy to be shocked at the following news stories:
- United Kingdom Bans Michael Savage for Being a Ranting A-Hole
- University of Illinois at Chicago Bans Students from Shaking Hands (thanks a lot, swine flu, how are the kids gonna hook up now?)
- MLB Bans Manny Ramirez for Testing Positive for PEDs
Okay, I admit, that last one isn’t really all that shocking considering the myriad priors of Manny Ramirez buffoonery. Still, to be banned for 50 games? Now that is saying something! Kudos to Major League Baseball for throwing the hammer at a big-time rule-breaker not named J.C. Romero!
While the entire social networking world is going wild over this steroid ban by Tweeting and Facebooking and MySpacing and Moshpitting opinions at lightning speed, let us not lose sight of the fact that there is an awful lot of banning going on in the free world — some warranted (Manny), some not (UIC students).
And like most things trendy, tired and trite, RSBS strives to get in on the action. So here is a short list of things that must be banned in the very near future:
BANNED: Paula Abdul’s Sobriety!!!
Wonder why American Idol ratings are down? You think Adam Lambert and Simon Cowell can carry the show? Ha! Think again, squarepants. Give me a whacked out loopy Paula and I’ll show you some damn ratings!
BANNED: Kyle Farnsworth’s Glasses!!!
They are not helping! A 7.56 ERA? Opponent BA of .314? Somebody get this guy some steroids! Stat!
BANNED: Paying Attention to Rod Blagojevich!!!
Seriously, does anyone really care anymore?
Now that Virgin is revolutionizing space travel, just think of how many asterisks we will need once baseball is being played there! Stop it now while we can!
BANNED: The Yankees’ Ability to Beat the Red Sox!!!
Oh, wait, we already did that.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I don’t know if it’s just DC but this week has been a little tough. I think a lot of it has to do with the general rainy dreariness that seems to have settled in over the area. However, the one thing I know is that no matter how rainy and dreary it might be here, it can only be worse in Chicago.
The other thing I know is that you, my friend, cannot get enough of the older of the two Andrews sisters. So, in order to send a little love your way (and perhaps earn a little karma for myself) and knowing that your recent reliance on the MLB Network has left you going through serious EA withdrawal, here is my hump day present to you (and to others who also appreciate such things).
Oh, and Kyle Farnsworth still sucks.
P.S. Here’s another. Should make for some even better karma.
-Photos via Deadspin
When a Major League Baseball team fires the majority of its relief pitching staff
and restocks it with a fresh cast of bumming bandits headlined by the
ubiquitously underachieving journeyman Kip Wells (of all waifs), you
can be certain that that team has hit its absolute rock bottom.
Congratulations, Washington Nationals! You are the burnt toast of our nation’s capital. We are going to eat you up.
Of course, picking on the Nationals is a lot like kicking a quadriplegic — it does get old after a while — and since my indomitably fatalistic colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, already did a good job
of slamming the organization for all its follies, I would like to
propose a more optimistic approach to gibing this laughingstock of a
But first, let us agree that whether Nationals’ manager
Manny Acta is responsible for the team’s atrocious play or not is, at
this point, quite negligible; because, just like a Kyle Farnsworth
fastball to the number eight hitter, Acta is gonna be outta here.
And after two miserable years and countless futile attempts at
corralling the motley crew of ex-cons, high profile free agents and
drug addicts, Acta probably won’t mind taking his rightful place in the
So I — humble paragon of hope that I am —
would like to offer the D.C. brass some friendly advice on who should
replace Acta at the managerial helm. Let’s face it: right now what the
Nationals need more than anything is a fiery, go get ’em, gnarly
skipper who won’t take crap from anyone — someone who eschews personal
dignity and goes right for the jugular!
Mitt Romney comes to
mind. He’s in the D.C. loop. He’s Mormon (synonymous with “scary”).
He supports blowing up people if they don’t agree with him, which is
evident in his recent remarks that President Obama is a “timid advocate of freedom”
for trying to conduct a sensible dialogue with Latin American leaders rather
than walking into the meetings strapped with an AK-47 and a briefcase
full of Zyklon gas.
Then again, like the Nationals, Romney can be better summed up as a simple loser.
hear George W. Bush is looking for a job. And though he is most known
for his stints at drunk driving, mismanaging war and ignoring a city in
peril, I must admit he did do a pretty decent job during his baseball
days in Arlington. Still, something with Dubya will always be amiss.
He just doesn’t have the necessary flair it takes to rally a country,
let alone a hapless baseball team.
If not these men, then who,
dear readers, can lead the way? Who has the guts, the guile, the zip, the zap, the
unadulterated masochism, the uncanny madness… who has what it takes
to whip those gutterball Nationals into a state of frenzied affirmation
and show them what real success tastes like?
There is but one answer. One man (boy?). His name is Fred. And Fred is awesome.
Send Fred into the Nats’ clubhouse — just once —
and I guarantee Elijah Dukes will never screw up again. Don’t believe
me? See the wrath of Fred (without his medication no less) for
…just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
On Thursday, former New York Yankee disaster, Carl Pavano, made his
Cleveland Indians debut. In just one inning plus of work he allowed 9
runs on 6 hits (including 2 homers) and three walks. Cleveland was not
happy. But Pavano is just one of many pitching phenoms gone sour. If
you had to put together a pitching staff of current players designed,
destined and determined to fail, who would you choose and why?
The problem with this question is that it’s punditry in it’s most basic form. No matter what pitchers I name, you already have your mind made up and you’ve already decided that I’m wrong. It feels like I’m being forced to play Colmes to your Hannity. But, because I’m a good sport, I’ll do it. I will become Alan Colmes.
Any baseball team needs a quality starter, decent middle relief and a closer who can get the job done. So, it makes sense that our bizarro all-star team would want just the opposite: a starter who never fail to implode, a middle reliever with whom no lead is safe and a ninth inning finisher who puts the “lose” in closer.
It would be relatively easy to staff the entire squad with last year’s Tigers but at this point, only one of them truly deserves that roster spot. Last season Dontrelle Willis managed to single-handedly redefine the concept of crashing and burning and this year seems to be more of the same. How bad is it? Well, D-train is currently cooling his heels on the 15-day DL with the frighteningly worded injury, “Anxiety disorder.” For those escapades, Dontrelle, we make you our ace.
But every starter needs a stopper. Although, in our case I guess what we’re looking for is more of a porous sieve. And there are plenty of them out there. Just today C.J. Wilson of the Rangers gave up four quick runs in relief of Kevin Millwood and managed to throw away what had been a shutout up til that point. But has anyone fallen as far or as fast as Eric Gagne? I mean this guy was lights out a couple years ago but now just mentioning his name around Red Sox or Brewers fans might get you punched out.
However, and I think it’s probably no surprise to anyone, the dirty lump of coal in in this torn stocking of a rotation has to be old friend of RSBS, Kyle Farnsworth. And he really deserves this honor on so many levels. Don’t just think of it as a reward for his incredible meltdown against the White Sox this past week. No, this is truly a lifetime achievement award. Farnsworth is the Mariano Rivera of blown opportunities and for that we salute him.
When it comes right down to it, though, I don’t know if anyone can really out-Pavano Carl Pavano himself. Seriously, how is this guy still pitching? When will GMs learn that he truly is kryptonite, anathema to the very idea of pitching. On the bright side, he is playing for the Indians and that makes me a little more optimistic for the Tigers chances this season. Hey, it’s Easter, a time of resurrection and rebirth. We all gotta’ hope, right?