Results tagged ‘ Nationals ’
I know we just saw him on Friday, but I can’t sit still. I’m eager. I want Stras-mas to be here… yesterday.
I also want the Nationals to give the guy some runs this time.
He’s throwin’ a 90-91 mph change-up for Cy Young’s sake.
Help the guy out.
All the cool kids are sayin’ this is the year of the pitcher…
And this is the best one I’ve seen.
Don’t hate me… ‘cuz I’m tellin’ ya, I’m right.
And this is what we learned:
President Obama has balls… showing up in a Sox hat
Allen hates the wave
Fair-weather Nats fans are led by a massive group of IBM consultants who can’t keep their mouths shut during the game
Allen hates IBM consultants who can’t keep their mouths shut during the
Stephen Strasburg’s ears ARE that big
Chili Cheese Half Smokes from Ben’s Chili Bowl = Good. The day AFTER Chili Cheese Half Smokes from Ben’s Chili Bowl = NOT so good.
Friday night games at Nats Park always end with a kick@ss fireworks show
Allen hates fireworks
And for Ken Griffey, Sr., a man who just four years ago was diagnosed with prostate cancer, this is definitely great news.
Fully recovered and feeling strong, the elder Griffey has joined other sport legends Len Dawson, Rod Woodson, Jim Kelly and (one of my personal favorites) Ozzie Smith in the Depend Campaign to End Prostate Cancer, a movement which educates the public on this important men’s health issue.
By sharing his own personal story, Griffey, Sr. hopes to help quell this potentially devastating disease. “I was diagnosed early. To me, that’s the most important thing: to get diagnosed early. Because then there’s treatment and it’s pretty much curable.”
Griffey was fortunate enough to know this before he was diagnosed, so the fight against the disease began long before he actually acquired it.
“My doctor explained to me that I was a strong candidate for it because of the fact that it was in my family. I had four uncles that passed from prostate cancer. My doctor was very cautious about it, making sure that with each physical I was tested for it.”
Today, not only is Griffey, Sr. spreading the message against prostate cancer, he’s also living life to the fullest, working every day as the hitting coach for the minor league Dayton Dragons, and reflecting on his own illustrious Major League career.
“Getting the opportunity to play with Junior, hitting the back-to-back homeruns with Junior, being world champions with the Cincinnati Reds… those are the major highlights of my career.”
In light of his son’s recent retirement from baseball, when asked about how long it took for Senior to transition he replied: “It didn’t take me long!”
Of course, Senior’s was a decision forced by injury. “For Junior, it was a decision based on the fact that he wasn’t getting the opportunity to play. He sat out for ten games or something like that. We had talked about it last winter. We discussed it. And I think he felt pretty good about the idea of coming home to be with the family.”
And as one legend leaves the game, a new sensation potentially takes his place in Stephen Strasburg. Not since Ken Griffey, Jr. came up in 1989 has there been more buzz about a rookie phenom than there is right now about Strasburg.
“Yeah, that’s exactly right. When Junior came into the league, everyone wanted to see him play.”
Did they ever. One would have to be from another planet to not know how colossally good Junior’s career was, how he became an idol for the masses, how he used class and composure to solidify his future place in the Hall of Fame.
Indeed, Strasburg has a long way to go. But Ken Griffey, Sr. does see the potential: “From what I’ve seen, he has a tremendous career ahead of him… if he stays healthy.”
Then, with a deep-hearted chuckle reminiscent of one who has overcome adversity and seen baseball legends come and go, Senior said:
“I’ve seen him on T.V. But I couldn’t tell you much about how he pitches unless I face him.”
Ken Griffey, Sr. has faced an obstacle or two before. And I’m pretty sure that if he strapped on the cleats today, he’d still have plenty of fight in him.
For more information on how you can join Ken Griffey, Sr. in the fight against prostate cancer, please visit the Depend website.
(by Jeffery Lung)
– – –
Special thanks to Kristin Adams from Taylor PR for arranging the interview with Ken Griffey Sr.
This was the first time I ever spoke to a baseball legend on the phone, so to say I was excited about it doesn’t quite relay just how excited I was. Think Erin-Andrews-in-my-living room-like excited.
And so in this Podcast…
Jeff and Johanna welcome a paragon of baseball intelligentsia, Mr. Paul Lebowitz — the one and only Prince of New York! If you aren’t already reading the Prince’s daily column *here* or *here* then you probably should get on that. Like, right away. Or else. And if that ain’t enough, you can certainly follow him on Twitter too. To be honest, the man is too ruthless and too unfettered for you to not be paying attention to him… so the RSBS crew made sure to get him at his best. Among the titillating
topics of discussion: Jason Bay’s UZR, men left on base (LOB), Keith Hernandez’s hunches, BRAINS!!!!… the Lou Piniella Mailbag and much, much more!
to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and
all-around sound guru. His Undercast podcast is the bomb shizzy, by the way. It’s available on iTunes and is posted regularly at Undercard Films.
**Image by Annette T. (Thanks, Annette!) Check out her sweet@ss blog!
Recorded Saturday , June 12, 2010
As Matt Capps recorded the final out in what turned out to be the most entertaining game of the entire year thus far, and as the camera panned back to frame a victorious, fist-pumping Stephen Strasburg in his Major League debut, a young man dressed in the number 37 from the stands mouthed what was easily lip read as:
“This is a baseball town!”
And he wasn’t kiddin’…
If you know me, you know that nothing makes me “rise up” (wink, wink) quite like my Erin Andrews meets Kourtney Kardashian meets Jenna Fischer fantasy… okay, that and lights-out big league pitching. Stephen Strasburg may not sport 32C’s, but his stuff is as filthy as my mind is imaginative, and that, dear readers, is about as dirty as it gets.
On Jeff Karstens
Jeff who? Who is that? No, seriously. Who is he?
Rise in Relevancy
Picture it: It’s a Tuesday evening… you just got off work… and all you want to do is rush home to watch that Pittsburgh Pirates/Washington Nationals game. You’ve been waiting for it in eager anticipation for well over a week now, and finally, as you crack open that beer and get a glimpse of what magic may become, you settle in to what ends up being the most captivating game you’ve seen all year long, of any teams, in any league.
And it’s the Pirates.
And the Nats.
This is good for the game, people. This is very, very good for the game.
Don’t hate me. ‘Cuz I’m right.
Strasburg is looking pretty good in the minors but the Nationals are
putting together a surprisingly decent season so far. How long before
he comes up to join the club and what kind of impact will he have?
Before I say anything, I just gotta ask: are you the same Ashley from Frankenmuth that my nefarious and oft sedated colleague Mr. Krause used to usher in and out of our college dormroom at odd hours back in the day, so as not to draw attention to his haphazard extracurricular activities?
If you’re not, then just pretend this piece starts… now:
Okay, Stephen Strasburg. Fine. But please realize I ain’t no analyst. I am not an insider. I don’t have an ear within the organization nor do I claim to know what any of the higher-ups are actually doing. I only have access to the same information you do… and considering that, I can tell you this:
Stephen Strasburg is wicked sick.
Believe me, I did not want to like this kid. At all. I cannot stand the overhyping of a young someone who has never faced any serious Major League competition, ever, in his life. Sure, every once in a while the media gets it right. But rarely. For every Jason Heyward there are a bazillion Todd Van Poppels, Bill Pulsiphers, Brien Taylors. And that’s not even including the fizzlers who succumb to injury like Mark Prior and lackluster primadonnas like Pete Incaviglia.
But this Strasburg fella… I think he’s the real deal.
His motion is mechanically fluid. His ball has jump. He makes hitters look silly.
And his current line at AA Harrisburg reads as such:
3 W, 0.52 ERA, 0.577 WHIP, 11.9 SO/9
AND the Nationals are actually holding their own right now among the NL East hogs. To hear the talking sports heads tell it, if the Nats continue to compete and Strasburg continues to dominate, we could very well see him this season. And if we do, I would bet he’d destroy everyone he faces.
The first time around.
After that, it’s anyone’s guess.
But I do know one thing: when Strasburg does make it to the Bigs, he’ll be the most loved man in all of Washington, D.C. since January 20, 2009.
Hate me ‘cuz it ain’t illegal yet, just 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
***Nancy Pelosi’s original face also welcome. I wanna scare one of my neighbors.
Sometimes the world turns inside out. Normally, we expect our sports stars to hit the strip clubs and get rowdy while our politicos throw good money after bad. If you’ve been paying attention the last month or so, though, you saw that all go upside down.
On the one side we have a bunch of schmoes taking financial advice from a guy like Lenny Dykstra and we know how that turned out. Meanwhile, the Republican National Committee apparently paid for some of its operators to hit a club in LA called, I sh!t you not, Voyeur West Hollywood.
Come on guys! How are we supposed to keep this straight? Democrats do stuff like this because they’re the party of Kennedy and Hart. But, with the exception of our dearly departed Charlie Wilson, the GOP staked its reputation as the party of “family values.” How can we make informed decisions if we can’t rely on stereotypes and generalities?
Now maybe these stories are just outliers and the exception that proves the rule. But in a week that ends with the Nationals playing .500 ball, you can understand my consternation. Where’s Eliot Spitzer when you really need him?
Well folks, it’s official. Three days into the 2010 MLB season and we are ready to call it. The Nationals have been mathematically eliminated from the playoff race. This really seemed like their year, too, with a lineup anchored by Adam Dunn. But, alas, it was not to be.
Now, some of you are probably sitting there counting on your fingers and saying, “Wait a minute, Allen. I may not be a math major but I’m pretty sure they have not been ‘mathematically’ eliminated.” And you know what? That’s just fine. You can use your “logic” and your “numbers” to scientifically prove that the Nats could still make the playoffs. I have only one thing to say to you. John Lannan. I think I’ve proved my point.
There is still a lot of baseball to be played and there will probably come a day in the not too distant future when all the bean-counters get together and finally realize that the Nationals can no longer make the postseason. Just remember, though, you heard it here first.
No, not that Chili. We’re talking about the kind of chili you cook up for days on end, taking care to add the right ingredients at the right time and ideally avoiding anything too explosive. Come to think of it, it’s kind of like the cooking that large swaths of the Midwest are doing right now even if the end result is probably a bit different.
To get back to the point, though, there’s a reason why chili topped anything is the choice of single men everywhere during the long cold winter months. It’s a delicious yet foul concoction that does damage at every point of the process of consumption. And if the sheer scatology of it all wasn’t enough, nothing brings men and sports together in awe-inspiring and death defying ways quite like chili.
Chili comes in many wonderful styles and, as a service to our loyal readers on this Friday afternoon, we here at RSBS want to highlight some of the more delectable forms that chili can take, especially at the ballpark. So come with us on a cayenne and tabasco infused journey deep inside a supernova of flavor.
The Classic Bowl of Chili
You don’t see a whole lot of this these days and it makes sense. If you’re jumping out of a small seat in a narrow space to cheer, you don’t really want to be dealing with a big ol’ bowl of chili. But under more sedate circumstances, nothing warms you up during early or late season games quite like a healthy helping of spicy chili.
The Chili Dog
Like a bowl of chili, the chili dog is also a classic. It makes sense, too. A hot dog is pretty close to perfection so if you’re going to do anything with it, you better make sure it’s good. A healthy helping of chili on top? Yep, that’s good. In fact, it probably would have been the end of the list except for one minor detail….
Chili Cheese Fries
There are a lot of things the Washington Nationals do wrong. But there is one thing they do very right. And that is letting Ben’s Chili Bowl serve up its wares inside the confines of their ballpark. Nationals are losing again? Doesn’t matter, I’ve got an order of chili cheese fries. Nationals misspelled their own names on their jerseys? Guess I should have another. However, there is still one step left to be taken to the pinnacle of chili evolution….
The Chili Cheese Half Smoke
As good as Ben’s chili cheese fries may be, the half smoke smothered in cheese and topped with chili represents a dimension of chili spectacularity all it’s own. Yes, that’s right. I’m making up words just to describe its scrumptatiousness. I don’t ask you to take my word for it. I just ask that you try it out for yourself if you’re ever in the DC area and see if I’m on to something. You won’t be disappointed.
In all the hype surrounding spring training we tend to forget one important thing. It’s really freakin’ boring. We want to love it because baseball is back after a long winter hibernation but when you’re dealing with split squads and guys trying to make the roster, it’s not exactly prime entertainment. It’s like preseason football. It gives you a taste of what’s to come but it just isn’t the real thing.
Unfortunately, life is filled with these types of things. You really want something to be great and you really remember it being great but then it’s here and it kind of sucks. Like summer. You spend all winter wishing for the warmth of summer but by the time you’ve sweated through your tenth shirt of the day, you wonder why you ever wished for that. Or you finally get a date with the girl who turned you down in middle school and when you make it in close enough to kiss her, you notice she has a mustache. It’s just wrong.
But I’m here to tell you there’s no reason to despair. Our long, national nightmare has just about come to an end. Soon, real baseball will be played in real stadiums and when the Nationals are 30 games back at the All-Star break you will know that everything is as it should be. Veronica up at the top, though, and her poop obsession? Even I can’t spin that one.
-Photo via Skull Swap