Results tagged ‘ Royals ’
Say what ya want about the mighty market divas of the Yankees, the Red Sox, the Dodgers. Go ahead and hate on A-Rod, slam Manny, spit on Youk… whatevs. Sometimes they deserve it; sometimes they don’t. It’s all a part of professional sports.
But no matter how infantile and annoying MLB superstars can be (yes, I’m looking at you, Milton Bradley), none of them quite qualify as being as toxically asinine as Nicolas Anelka and his band of busted b!tches that once formed the French national soccer team.
You think Roberto Alomar spitting on John Hirschbeck was bad? Imagine Roberto Alomar spitting on John Hirschbeck during the World Series, with a big nasty particle-filled loogey, and all his teammates joining in.
Yeah. That’s sorta what France’s World Cup was like. But at least it’s over. And now we can think about… things that are worse than France. For instance:
Duh. You knew that was comin’.
Rob Blagojevich’s Image
For all of you who live outside of Illinois, be glad you do; ‘cuz this Blago crap is just now gettin’ started for real. The lego hair, the smarmy and disingenuous smile, the creepy way he talks to every woman as if she were a dumb, money-chasin, cheap-trick-happy cocktail waitress… this dude is going to the joint. Eventually.
You knew that was comin’ too.
It makes me sick that he was in my neighborhood. It makes me even more sick to know that he was at Sox Park. And it makes me Bush-Sr-Throwin-Up-On-Japanese-People sick to know he tossed the first pitch to Mark Buehrle!
You didn’t think this could end with anything worse, did you? I’m pretty sure I heard the Astros’ team on-base-percentage was the worse on-base-percentage in the history of time, including all dimensions — even those we are unaware of yet…
That’s why they’re called the LOLstros.
Hate me. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I would pay Albert Pujols the moon. I would pay Derek Jeter the sun. Roy Halladay my left — AHEM. Okay, you know what I mean. These aren’t Chicago Transit Authority workers who sit around in bunches and watch one guy change one light bulb while they all count how many more days til that fat pension check kicks in. Pujols, Jeter, Halladay… men like that… their services are incalculable.
On the contrary, inflation and greed have changed the dynamics of the world economy so much that I find it frighteningly appalling that certain people in certain positions are able to pull down the amount of scratch they do. Considering how so many US Americans (me) are just skating by, watching ye olde savings account disappear quicker than an Oriole lead in the 9th, I think it’s time we call some of these folks out.
Don’t get me wrong. I ain’t no hater. But soon you’ll agree… overcompensation can be a nagging pain for those of us on the opposite end of the money tree.
Sure, in the baseball world, $7 million a year is quite the bargain, especially for a perennial MVP candidate who can single-handedly carry a team for weeks at a time. Or is it? In the case of Hanley Ramirez, it’s probably less about overcompensation and more about breaking child labor laws. Yeah, you heard me right. ‘Cuz only whiny kids and spoiled brat beotches find themselves exempt from exerting maximum effort on the diamond. And at $7 million a year or $70 a year, when ya play baseball for a living, I expect you to hustle. Always.
Did you know that the strikingly beautiful oldest daughter of former Alaska governor and ultimate purveyor of Backwardism has signed a deal with a speakers bureau to make between $15,000 and $30,000 per speech. Uh… m’kay. So… uh… what’s she gonna speak about? Let’s see, what would make anything Bristol Palin has to say important to me (or anyone)? She’s the daughter of a famous politician. So what? I’m the son of an awesome MRI technologist. She got knocked up while in high school. So what? I was smart enough to wrap it up. Uh… she’s attractive. So what? Hello!?!? Where the hell is my $30K per speech contract?
Remember this guy?!? If you hear that Twilight Zone music sifting through your head, you are not alone, dear readers. I was able to catch the end (and most, er… exciting?) part of that Royals/Indians matchup last night… y’know, the one where Kerry Wood came in throwing 97 mph gas that the Royals — yes, the ROYALS — blasted all over the park. I don’t know about you, but if I’m paying someone $10.5 million a year — someone who always seems to be or is about to be injured — I would ask him to at least be as good as his replacement. Throw in the eminent departure of the most highly publicized free agent in the history of sports and yeah, I’d say it’s time to light that Cuyahoga on fire again, Cleveland. Yep. Let go and let that baby burn.
Hate me ‘cuz your girlfriend digs me, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
For the Matt Drudges, Satanic She-Worms and Jabba the Huts of the world, President Obama’s controversial decision to seat an inexperienced left-leanin’ lawyer to the world’s highest court is not going too well. Indeed, dear readers, the rip-roarin’ has already commenced with character-bashing slander at the ready: “she has no experience!”… “she’s part of the Chicago machine!”… “She’s ugly! You sure that ain’t Gary Dell’abate!?!”
I am not sure that she is not Gary Dell’abate.
She has no experience. So what? Does she have what it takes? Does she have the balls to — wait, never mind.
As is the case with baseball, experience doesn’t always guarantee success.
Mike Leake never pitched a game in the minors and yet he has a record of 3-0 right now, one of those wins coming against the sCrUBS (which nets him extra points ‘cuz I say so).
Don Denkinger never had any experience being completely retarded for one single World Series play yet he managed to get the job done in 1985.
And let me remind you of a fella who didn’t have any managerial experience whatsoever: a man, who as a player achieved a lifetime batting average of .219 with 32 homers and 112 RBI. That man’s name is A.J. Hinch and that man manages the Arizona Diamondbacks and the Arizona Diamonbacks are… um… the D’backs are…
Pay no attention.
We’re all in this US American mess together.
Hate me ‘cuz it’s trendy, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
As no exception to this eons-old rite of passion, I couldn’t stand the drought any longer, and on Wednesday night I ventured on over to my neighborhood cathedral: the ever tantalizing, the ever teasing, the ever titillating Sox Park.
I scored like no man has ever scored before.
Scorecards tell stories — great, fantastic stories that can be pieced together with digits and asterisks and squiggly lines. Each one is unique — each scorer different from the next, yet universally similar enough to enlighten anyone else willing to read them.
When I was a kid I found scorecards from the ’60s an uncle of mine had kept. There I was, decades later, in a dark basement in the dead of winter, recreating the majesty of Ken Boyer and Bob Gibson and Tim McCarver on a hot July afternoon… in my head.
So go ahead, take a gander… and try not to drool (click image to enlarge):
Hate me ‘cuz you’re allowed to, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
You guys make a lot of Bud Selig’s poor management of MLB. If you could
take his place for one day and make one change, what would you change
and how do you think it would alter the game?
Aww, gee, Harrison (insert overwhelming use of sarcasm), thanks a lot. I only get one day and one change? What’s the point? You know this: It’s gonna take a lot more than just one day and one change to correct the myriad wrongs laid down by King Bud over the past 18 years.
Is it realistic to ban the Cardinals from losing 20 inning games? No? How about simply getting rid of the Royals franchise? No? Okay. What about forcing opposing pitchers to only offer breaking balls in the dirt to Alfonso Soriano? Fine.
Then I guess I would have to consider one of the obvious:
- stop making it (the All-Star Game) “count” for anything other than a celebration of the best in the game
- shorten spring training
- eliminate the plethora of off-days during the playoffs
- change the schedule back to 154 games
- sew Barry Bonds’ mouth shut forever and ever, amen
But to be honest, none of the above would be worthy of my one day and my one change. No. If I only get one then I’m gonna focus on what’s really wrong with the game and fix that as soon as possible. What would I do?
Allow MLB ballparks to serve beer after the 7th inning.
Imagine being at that 20 inning game on Saturday, soberly watching in extras, thirsty, parched, dried up… brat in hand but no suds to wash it down. That, dear readers, is simply unacceptable.
And it goes well beyond the frustration of watching a game go past nine innings without the comforts of a cold, frosty one. Think about it: if you are really so blasted from drinking beer during the game, is that one and a half to two innings of sobriety really going to make it okay for you to operate a vehicle?
If you are really that wasted from drinking beer during the game should you be driving home anyway?
Here’s what we do: tell everyone to drink responsibly. People are or aren’t going to do that anyway, whether you serve beer after the 7th inning or not.
So please stop punishing me after the 7th inning. Often times those last couple innings are the ones where I need the numbing powers of alcohol the most!
Move over, Bud. Let me make this change.
Otherwise I’ll be forced to continue double-fisting when they holler out “last call”.
Hate me ‘cuz I finally bring logic to the discussion, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
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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
***Images of King Bud in a dress also welcome. They exist. Trust us.
Technically it means very little. One game in the course of a 162 game season. But let’s face it. Opening Day is something else. It sets a tone. In 2008, when all the cognoscenti had picked the Tigers to go all the way, those of us who follow the team definitely felt a little hint of worry when they got thumped by the Royals on the first day. And if they could have won on Opening Day last year, that would have been enough to win them the Central and avoid an ill-fated playoff with the Twins.
For such an epic sport, a sport whose history goes back more than a century and whose season lasts more than half a year, baseball is a game of inches and moments. And that’s why we love it. It invokes the saga of multiple generations of both players and fans but allows us to live in the immediacy of a home run or a strikeout pitch.
Opening Day is baseball in miniature. Yes, it’s only one game and yes it doesn’t technically mean that much being only one 162nd of the of the season. But if you ask any of us sitting here watching our Opening Day starter take the mound if this game means something and you can bet your @$$ we’re all going to say yes.
Happy Opening Day and go Tigers!
The interwebs are a buzz about RSBS‘ propensity for picking on what seems like only a select few players/teams, for striking at those more prone to ridicule, the bottom of the baseball barrel. We’re talking about the Kyle Farnsworths, Brad Lidges, Milton Bradleys. We’re talking about the Chicago Cubs, Pittsburgh Pirates, Kansas City Royals.
We’re talking about easy marks. All of them. They are weak, addled, flawed.
But let it be know that dear readers galore have spoken; and we at RSBS are not ones to disappoint. So here ya go, folks… a quick slanderous slaying of all 30 Major League Teams… in one minute or less (or more, depending on your reading level):
Hey, Yankees, is that Mo’nique or C.C. Sabathia?…
Boston Red Sox? More like Boston Sucks Cox!…
Dear Rays, I can’t wait until you disappoint all your new fans by letting Carl Crawford go…
Blue Jays, if you were gonna let an Italian destroy your franchise, why not give one of the Gottis a shot?…
I didn’t know the Oriole way included a sharp decline in season ticket sales…
Sorry, Twins, but you’ll never be as good as Kent Hrbek farting in George Brett’s face…
Hey Tigers, remember when people used to live in your city?…
Attending a White Sox game is a lot like attending a vocational school open house…
I think we can all agree that Charlie Sheen could make the 2010 Indians squad…
The Kansas City Royals… did I mention Kyle Farnsworth?…
Oh, sure, I love the California Los Angeles Angels of Los Aneheim California Angeles Los L.A….
The Texas Rangers: Where born again drug addicts find Jesus while not making it to the playoffs…AGAIN…
Wow, Mariners, your most famous player outside of Griffey and Ichiro is… Harold Reynolds? Seriously? Ouch…
A’s… it stands for “moneyball doesn’t work so it’s best we go back to employing known juicers”…
Dear Phillies, if the Phanatic isn’t a phag, I don’t know what mascot is…
Sorry, Marlins… if you’re not cocaine or the Dolphins, Miami doesn’t even know you’re there…
Atlanta Braves…14 straight playoff appearances and how many World Series titles?…
Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Met will now be played by a corpse…
Hey, Nationals, two words for ya: Dunn’s ^ss!…
The Cardinals? The Cardinals!?! You’re… you’re… aweso– you’re… (Sorry, I can’t do it; I tried)…
For insults directed towards the Cubs, please see the 2+ years of RSBS archives
Hey, Brewers, is that Mo’nique or Prince Fielder?…
Just wait, Reds fans, two more years of Dusty Baker, and you won’t even have a pitching staff!…
Houston, we have a problem… and it’s called the Astros…
Yeah, picking on the Pirates is a lot like picking on the quadriplegic fat blind kid whose parents got divorced and forgot they even had a kid…
The Dodgers‘ m.o. is: show up late, leave early, hope no one notices the messy divorce…
Ok, Rockies, Dante Bichette called, he wants his inflated numbers back…
Hey, Giants, is that Mo’nique or — nope, that’s Pablo Sandoval. He’s just fat…
Padres? Friars? Perhaps Molested Altar Boys would be more suiting, considering the amount of back-bending abuse they’ve taken from Sandy Alderson…
The Arizona Diamondbacks? More like the Arizona Diamondhacks!
My vitriolic verbal leg sweeping knows no limit.
So don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
P.S. The Cardinals? Fine. If I must. Here. Have fun with *THIS*.
*also thank you, Matt
And then I will run across a headline, like this one on MLB.com, and realize that all of my spew is actually rim-shot-worthy material just writing itself at tremendous speed. The part I play is actually quite minuscule as I am merely an ebullient conduit for said spew. Any negative repercussions are clearly someone else’s fault (I’m the oldest of seven kids, so I’m an expert at redirecting blame).
But to be perfectly clear, I do not want to be the Matt Drudge of Major League Baseball — one who takes simple news stories with rigid headlines and turns them into bits of sultry, one-sided crap by reconstructing their titles with right wing conservative Christian buzz words in large red font with quotation marks ad nauseum (this is also known as fear mongering). If I may be trite, a news story is what it is.
And the Royals are what they are, with or without my chiding.
So let’s face it: the Royals are an abomination. They may not be on the exact level of abomination as the Pirates, but they are close behind. Just look at the rosters for those two intrasquad teams mentioned in the linked article:
Team 1: Scott Podsednik, LF; Chris Getz, 2B; David DeJesus, RF;
Josh Fields, 3B; Rick Ankiel, CF; Alberto Callaspo, 2B; Wilson Betemit,
DH; Ernesto Mejia, 1B; Brayan Pena, C.
Team 2: Mitch Maier, LF; Jason Kendall, C; Billy Butler, 1B;
Jose Guillen, RF; Alex Gordon, 3B; Scott Thorman, DH; Mike Aviles, 2B;
Brian Anderson, CF; Yuniesky Betancourt, SS.
Now, tell me you aren’t laughing as hard as I am.
Was that a bit harsh?
I don’t know. Isn’t it a bit harsh on the five or six fans left in Kansas City to know that their big offseason acquisitions include an old guy who used to run well, a walking concussion who can’t hit a breaking ball and another old guy who… well, okay, Jason Kendall might teach those kids something… but Wilson Betemit!?! WTF!?!?
All jokes aside, I can tell you this: there was a time when Royals baseball invoked fear in the minds of all opponents. Nowadays the only thing invoked by the Kansas City Royals is a quick change of the channel.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Before you put all your faith in that pretty little sheep who wants to walk you home, perhaps you should ask for a closer look at its teeth… ‘cuz they might just eat you… as may the fledgling accusations of my vitriolic and oft misguided colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, who yesterday painted me as the type of man who joyously spreads inaccurate information throughout the interwebs, with no regard for reason.
Well, phooey, ‘cuz that’s a load of crap and everyone knows it.
Believe me, I spent almost 15 minutes researching the many reasons why the 2010 Tigers are more than set to stink up the AL Central. If Mr. Krause cannot accept the brutal truth because he is blinded by his unmatched loyalty to the stylized “D”, then that is on him.
But I don’t think it’s fair to twist words and trick the masses as he did with this proclamation which aimed to maim my original point:
“Are the Tigers worse off than the White Sox, Indians, Royals or even the Twins? No.”
Ah ha! Did you catch that? He asked (then answered in the negative) if the Tigers were worse off than all of the other teams in the division. While in actuality, we all know it only takes one or two teams to be better than the Tigers to see their season sunk; and I assure you, dear readers, the White Sox and Twins will both rest well on top of the Tigers this season.
Come on now, Al, did you really think I’d let you get away with that?
Such lame and smile-stamped trickery is reminiscent of one Bill O’Reilly announcing to the world that he is writing a new book on the assassination of Abraham Lincoln — a fresh history book that will take the reader “into Ford’s Theater and into the mind of Lincoln’s assassin, John
Wilkes Booth, and on the manhunt to find and bring to justice the
killer of one our greatest presidents.”
Of course, in the same misleading vein as Mr. Krause above, Mr. O’Reilly fails to remind us that that book has already been written… quite well actually… by James L. Swanson.
I imagine O’Reilly could only muck it up.
Hate me. I don’t care. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
If I were stranded on a remote island ten years ago and I just now got back to see Rick Ankiel is playing center field for the Kansas City Royals, I would be thoroughly confused. We all know what a tremendous story Rick Ankiel’s career has been up to this point. So let me be clear: as a Cardinals fan, I fully support Ricky and thank him for all he did in a Cards uniform. I wish him the best of luck.
Yet I cannot help but believe all those concussions did a smidgen more than some serious damage to his psyche.
In his welcoming press conference with the Royals last week, Ankiel mentioned that part of why he wanted to come to Kansas City was because he ‘liked the direction’ the team was going.
And we all know it.
The truth is: Rick Ankiel is happy to be with the Royals because he has a job now when it looked like he might not. I can’t blame the guy. I would do the exact same thing… which may or may not include my liking ‘the direction’ of the team.
Because, let’s face it: this team ain’t goin’ anywhere.
Scott Podsednik. Jason Kendall. Billy Butler. Kyle Farnsworth.
These names do not a champion make.
I think the best summary of the Kansas Royals’ direction, under the keen eye of GM Dayton Moore, is represented by a technical glitch which provided wonderment during the press conference.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Kansas City Royals: Team of Infinite Regress:
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Tune in Monday and Tuesday of this week. Ninemen’s Morris is baaaaaaaaaaaaack…