Results tagged ‘ My Team(s) ’

End of the Road (B-Inge Remix)

We’ve all had those kind of relationships where we really like the person, we’re really comfortable with them and we have so many memories of the good times together that it’s nearly impossible to say goodbye.  It’s not that you no longer like them, it’s just that it’s not there anymore.  Well, that’s kind of what happened last week between the Tigers and Brandon Inge.

We’ve known that something was off with the relationship the last couple years.  It just didn’t feel as fresh and fulfilling as it used to.  Sure, we convinced ourselves that the old magic was still there, hiding someplace.  And every once in awhile that spark would rekindle something and we’d see flashes of what used to be there.  It’s like that magical vacation you take to try and find what used to be there and for a week or so, you rediscover it briefly.  But, just like in real life, things soon return to normal and you slowly begin to accept what has to happen.

The thing is, it’s hard to leave a relationship like that, especially when you’ve had so many truly terrible relationships previously.  Dontrelle Willis?  Mike Maroth?  Those two were like the alcoholic chick you picked up at the bar who decided to leave a toothbrush behind the first night and then just refused to leave.  But Inge?  He was more than a relationship.  Even your parents liked him.  He played multiple roles and he always seemed to step up and do what was asked of him.  He was a metaphor for everything that had happened over the previous five seasons.

But whether the relationship is certifiably insane or has just run its course, the end result is the same.  You gotta get out.  I’m not saying that makes it any easier.  Even though I know dropping Inge was the right choice, it’s not like I can just forget him.  I’ll probably still check his facebook and occasionally look at the photos we took together.  Luckily, it’s not like we’re left all alone.  There’s a new crush who has caught my eye and he’s a real Prince.

-A

Stop It, Chicago Cubs, Just Stop It

*Dear readers, pardon me while I step away from being an unbiased observer and put on my wrathful fanboy hat*

Stop it, Chicago Cubs.  Just stop it.

You are a 6-win team thus far, and while yes, your last two wins (unfortunately, against my World Champion St. Louis Cardinals) were full of drama, let us not forget: you suck.

But you wouldn’t know that watching your celebrations the last two nights.  Unbridled bedlam.  Unwarranted one-upsmanship.  Beating your chests then dogpiling like you won the goddamned World Series?

Please.  You were the beneficiary of TWO blown calls.  Also, you are a terrible team.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t celebrate a walk-off victory, because it is only natural to do so.  But there is celebration and then there is what you’ve done two days in a row: act like blithering fools.

Consider a touch of class, or at least a nod to the baseball gods umpires who handed you a victory on Tuesday night.

Hate me ‘cuz I speak it straight, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

The Filibuster

It looks like Albert is off to a rough start in LA.  Have you caught yourself checking in on him yet?

Ian
Paris, TX
___________________________________

If by “checking in on him” you mean stalking his Facebook page, dialing his phone number then hanging up real quick and annoyingly asking our mutual friends if he’s really happy with his new lover, then no.  I haven’t done any of that.

But I have watched an unhealthy amount of Angels games early this season (BECAUSE I CAN’T HELP MYSELF) and I have to admit: even watching Albert struggle early on is no consolation for his loss.  There is no consolation.  Period.  None.  So it does me no good to dwell on it anymore.

IT’S OVER.  FOREVER.

And that’s okay.

It is no secret that Albert’s decision to leave the St. Louis Cardinals left me DEVASTATED.  I was in deep mourning for most of January.  As February rolled along, I found myself dealing with the five stages of grief more intimately than I ever wanted. But by the end of March, I’d finally reached the road of acceptance.  I had no power to change anything anyway, so I could choose to be miserable or I could choose to move on.

I chose to move on.

Albert Pujols provided me with some of the greatest memories of my entire life.  It is my decision to hold those memories dear, to never let go, but to also accept the change that is reality and be one with it.  Harboring any ill will towards the man who brought me such joy has zero benefits.  Just like I wish myriad ex-girlfriends the best in their individual lives post-Jeff, I also wish Albert the best.  That being said, when he strikes out or grounds into a double-play, I become human at times and secretly engage in a bit of childish taunting.  But this is not done with a hateful or angry tone.  I am mindful of it. I acknowledge its silliness. I immediately let it go.

AP may not be off to a torrid start when it comes to power numbers, but the homers and RBIs are going to come.  And when they do, I’ll tip my cap just as I would anyone else: while hollerin’ “GO CARDINALS!!!”

Hate me.  I’m cool with it.  Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.

Peace,

Jeff

One Day to Unite Them All!

It’s Opening Day, y’all!!!  HOLLLLLLLLAAAAAA!!!

When it comes to my favorite holidays there is, of course, April Fool’s Day, National Cleavage Day and My Bent and Oft Hoodwinked Colleague Gets PWNED by a Commenter Day.

But nothing — I repeat: NO-THING beats Opening Day.

To celebrate, I give you DRUNK Rick Sutcliffe:

Now, if we could just get a Play Tennis In Your Underwear Day.

Happy Opening Day and Let’s Go Cards!

Jeff

The Tricks They 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.

FANTASTIC!

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.

Peace,

Jeff

A Prince and his Palace

I loved Cecil Fielder.  He may have been a crappy father but during a period when the “Bless You Boys” had become more of a curse than a prayer, he was a bright spot in an otherwise dull lineup.  When his boy came up and then became a star with the Brewers, it was fun to watch but I had a hard time really getting into it because, well, he was a Brewer, not a Tiger.  But that has all changed.

I don’t know what Prince will do in a Tigers’ uniform.  I hope he’s going to be a monster in the tradition of his father but after the watching the White Sox live the Adam Dunn experience, it’s obvious that these things are far from certain.  What I do know, though, is having a Fielder in Detroit just feels right.  Welcome back, Prince.  I hope that Comerica is a palace to you like Tigers’ Stadium was to your father.

-A

Pink on Pink on Repeat

If you follow this blog, you know that I am not a fan of pink baseball caps.  I pretty much feel the same way about them that Rick Santorum feels about anything that smacks of fun: it’s a sin.  I can get behind pink bats for breast cancer awareness and maybe even pink bases for one day.  But people who show up to baseball games wearing pink hats?  Nope.  That just isn’t appropriate.

I’m not sure what it is about pink hats that annoys me so much.  Almost every club has alternate caps that they wear from time to time to switch things up.  However, the alternates tend to reflect the official colors of the team.  In reality, alternate caps and jerseys are just a way for teams to generate revenue and that’s a brand of capitalism I can get behind.  With the pink hats, though, I honestly don’t see how they can be making enough money to make it worthwhile.  I’m sorry but a pink Detroit Tigers’ hat is just wrong.  Despite my feelings toward the New York Yankees, I still don’t feel right seeing one of their caps in pink either.

But as much as I dislike the unholy spectre of pink baseball hats, it pales in comparison to my feelings for the no-talent asshattery of Brittany Smooch:

Seriously, if I was forced to choose between watching either this video or Two Girls, One Cup on a loop for 24 hours, there’s a good chance I’d ask for rat poison instead.

Happy Saturday!

-A

Truly Master of His Domain

It’s nice to be the world champion in something.  For instance, Jeff still has another few months during which the Cardinals are the world champions in baseball.  That’s a good feeling.  Me, I’m not part of a world champion anything.  But when I consider the possibilities, things in which one could be world champion, well…

…I think I’m all right being regular old me.  It certainly beats that title.

-A

2012’s Mouthwatering Prospects

The run up to summer blockbuster season is a lot like baseball’s offseason.  Lots of rumors, lots of movement and everyone talking about who’s going to do what and who will be the winners and losers.  Expectations mount as we get closer to the start of the season, as we start seeing all the previews that look great.  With both baseball and movies, though, it’s hard to tell what you’re really going to get until opening day.

Not that this will stop me from drooling in anticipation.  I mean, come on.  The Tigers have Cabrera and Prince at the corners!  Sure, that’s an exponentially compounded defensive liability but the prospects at the plate are simply mouthwatering.  Kind of like the Alien prequel, Prometheus:

And if that isn’t enough to whet your appetite, how about a little brilliance in advertising:

Summer 2012.  Was there a better time to be alive?

-A

A Post of Laughter and Forgetting

This has been a traumatic offseason for my good friend Mr. Lung.  Not only did Tony LaRussa follow his World Series victory with the news that he was retiring from the team, this same TLR has now shown up in the Detroit Tigers’ camp to assist during spring training.  But of course that all pales in comparison to Pujols’ treason.  Not to mix too many metaphors but Pujols’ betrayal for the proverbial 30 pieces of silver has left Jeff muttering “Et tu, Albert?”

But there’s good news!  It turns out that scientists may soon be able to help Jeff erase those memories (It’s a long article but worth reading) and return to the halcyon days of his 2011 post-Series ecstasy.  If that doesn’t work, we can always hope that maybe Albert pulled a Fausto Carmona and won’t be able to perform in an Angels’ jersey.  I mean, it could be worse.  He could have gone to the Cubs, right?  I don’t know if there’s any pill that could have helped with that.

-A

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