Results tagged ‘ Royals ’
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
During my high school days there was this kid who caused quite a bubble of interest everywhere he went. A by all means normal, good-lookin’ dude, this guy was the essence of cool, the poster-child of charm, the cliche of class.
He had money. Nice car. Designer jeans.
Yet despite all of those wonderful attributes — both material and physical — no matter how hard he tried, the kid just couldn’t get right.
He failed school. He drove under the influence. He burned down his own house.
Nowadays, at 30 years old, you can find him living in his parents’ basement, driving his half-totaled IROC-Z with T-Tops back and forth to a running jape of part-time service industry jobs which require little more than a heartbeat.
And every time I see the Yankees, dear readers, I can’t help but think of him.
Because no matter how hard they try, the New York Yankees just can’t get right.
Excessive amounts of money, $1.5 billion new stadium, marquee pitching… and still, those damn Yankees can’t beat the Red Sox, best the Royals’ win total or avoid the onslaught of negative press that follows Alex Rodriguez around like Jose Molina does an all-you-can-eat buffet.
It is sad, folks, really sad when the most positive headlines from the Yankees’ young season include the following:
- Nick Swisher as Offensive Powerhouse
- Damaso Marte Injured; Physically Unable to Allow His Typical 5 Runs per Appearance
- Joe Girardi’s Excuse: I Am as Dumb as I Look
Jimmy Dugan may have said “there’s no crying baseball”, but he didn’t say jack about burning down your own house. And so far, the Yanks are doing a mighty fine job of that!
I mean, don’t get me wrong, a 13-12 record ain’t all that bad, but in the Evil Empire, you might as well be winless.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
As the hysteria over swine flu (H1N1 as those in the biz call it) recedes but before it evaporates entirely, I’d like to point something out. The Kansas City Royals are the flu’s baseball equivalent.
For the past couple years the Royals have started off red hot. Like the heat that was generated by all the pundits jabbering away about the possible pandemic. It’s kind of the same thing. People think that this is finally the one, finally the year when it happens. And both have all the markings and possibilities of pulling through.
For instance, they say great pitching wins championships and no one is pitching better than Zack Greinke right now. The Royals have great young talent just like the swine flu has a great new genetic makeup. And as if there weren’t already enough eerie similarities, the Royals haven’t really had any success since the mid-80’s while the swine flu last came a knockin’ in the mid-70’s.
But the sad part (or happy, depending on which one you’re talking about) is that soon enough, just like the flu, the Royals are going to be shown up for the hyperbolic hoax that they are. It’s not their fault. Small market teams, like poor little Piglet in the picture below, really just can’t compete in the current market.
If you ask me, Pooh is pretty much dead on. And soon enough, someone is going to follow his suggestion and put the poor Royals out of their misery. However, there is a bright side and I think that’s where we should focus. Bacon anyone?
They say lightning never strikes the same place twice; but when it comes to the self-loving oft incoherent Twitter musings of one Coco Crisp, it strikes just about every hour. Don’t believe me? See for yourself:
i dont know how i
did it but i slept from 1am til 2pm and the last thing i remember b4 i
woke was winning a horse race and i was the jokey
any of yaw’ll out there know bout dreams… let me know what that means.
Well, Coco, I am certainly no psychiatrist. Nor do I claim to have actual dream interpretation abilities. But my contemporaries do consider me to be the lone Freudian voice in a world of mother-loving MLBloggers, so let me try to help as best I can.
You seem to be perplexed by your mastery of slumber, Coco. I concur, sleeping for 13 hours straight is serious business. I completely understand your bafflement. I slept for 13 hours once during my college days and while from that experience my first inclination is to warn you about dangers of binge drinking, I think that, in your case, you’re just lazy. So set an alarm next time. You’ll be good to go. I promise.
Now, if the last thing you remember “b4” you “woke” was winning a horse race, well, gee, Coco… that’s great! Congratulations! Honestly, I believe this was your own mind’s ominous foretelling of the brilliant pitching performance later delivered by your perennially underachieving teammate Brian Bannister. You see, you have powers, Coco. Use them. Don’t abuse them. If you feel like you’re going to get a good pitch to hit, you probably are, so make sure you swing away. Follow your telepathic signs.
Of course, this brings us to the most troubling portion of your experience, Coco. Sure, you won the race, but in the end, you were the “jokey”. Man, let me tell ya: I’ve been down that road too and we both know it ain’t no fun. No way. To basque in the glory of triumph, to feel the ecstasy of victory, only to realize that you are indeed the “jokey” — the one everyone is laughing at — whew. Man, let’s just be honest, Coco, that su<ks. And I can’t help you.
But maybe some of “yaw’ll” (a puzzling, elongated abbreviation created by Coco himself, used to represent the shortened “ya’ll” as in “you all” but taking the time to type out one extra letter) can.
Like Coco’s pal, Barry Zito perhaps, who after somehow ditching his dead-arm persona actually managed to throw seven innings of scoreless baseball yesterday! Following his surprising performance, Zito had this to tweet:
F__k yeah baby! Let’s take this show on the road.
Sitting in my hotel in AZ, just ate best cab cakes ever at Cheesecake… You all are great, thanks for the nice comments…
Really wanna kill these D backs this weekend and go into Dodger series with momentum..
3 hrs sleep…
should have partied. Traces of adrenaline still in body, gonna go for a
walk before the mercury hits triples digits in AZ
F__k yeah, Barry! I, too, am quite fond of “cab cakes”… they’re much tastier than urinal cakes and besides, they tend to be both sweet and savory! And of course, there’s nothing quite like killing D’backs to get momentum going into Dodger stadium. I mean, think of how scared the Dodgers will be knowing you just killed an entire baseball team! I was wrong about you, Barry. You aren’t a softy; you’re a hard^ss.
But Barry, just be careful. Those aren’t traces of adrenaline in your body; those are traces of Hilary Duff and Alyssa Milano.
The itch. Tough to cure. You know this.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
For those of you anti-technocratic individuals stuck in 2005 where MySpace is your second life, Andruw Jones is your homerun leader and The Emancipation of Mimi rocks your screenless iPod Shuffle, let me tell ya: it’s time to get with the program.
And by us I mean Red State Blue State — on Twitter, the hottest albeit most meaningless social networking site that has all the kids goin’ crazy.
And do it now.
Not convinced yet?
Here is but a small sampling of prolific “tweets” by the Royals hot off-season acquisition (read them; you will laugh):
i saw a guy at
todayz that looked like the deformed dude from Goonies, i have to tell
yah i got a weak stomach. He was over where i wassigning
autographs b4 the game and i thought it was gonna b game over for me,
but i made it… PHEWW signed his ball and all. that could
have been the weirdest moment of my life!!! 4real. Anywayz bout 2 watch Golden Child, “I want the knife…_… Pleassse”
oh yeah b4 i log i went 3-4 today and we won
red bull is amaZing
Got n 2 KC last
night. That plane ride was by far the worst i’ve ever been on. i
thought fasho i was a goner. The last 5 mins of the the
of the flight the
plane was movin like a Wakefield knuckleball lol. i just new that was
it 4 me… us but we make it.
John Buck had an awesome game. Right now tryin to make a mix tape 4
after we win, what we’ve been playin is terrible
(*note: it seems Coco was just as surprised as us that the Royals won again)
i guess when i get back of this road trip ill check out the night life. im bout 2 check out im hella tired Gnite.
You see, dear readers, sometimes the creative mind is no match for stream of consciousness junkets created by extremely talented yet severely uneducated athletes.
Amen to that.
And go ahead and hate me ‘cuz I take cheap shots at verbally challenged yet outspoken outfielders… just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
The Pittsburgh Pirates managed to lose a game the other day to a local
community college. Granted, it wasn’t their best players on the field
that day but they did still lose to a community college. Now, we’ve
spent a lot of time talking about the highlights we expect to see in
the upcoming season but what are some of the bloopers and sob stories
you are looking forward to as well?
The Pirates’ saving grace (after losing to a community college) is the fact that they themselves are a team better suited for the community college circuit. Boasting players most of us have never heard of like Nyjer Morgan, Brandon Moss and Ross Ohlendorf, is it any surprise that the perennial underachieving Buccos start the season picked to win a mind-blowing 65 games? I think not.
But as my sludge-dredging colleague, Mr. Krause, so coyly alludes to, this will be just one of the many “sob stories” we baseball fans are looking forward to in 2009. Now I am no soothsayer; nor am I blessed with magical powers allowing me to predict which gaffes and gripes will take centerstage this season; but let’s face it: some things are just a given. For example:
The Orioles and Blue Jays Will Simply Disappear
If they haven’t already, by the time we hit the month of May, I foresee that all relevance of baseball in Baltimore and Toronto will cease to exist. After a steady diet of Yankees, Red Sox and Rays is slammed down our throats, who will care that Brian Roberts is a shining star in a sea of apathy or that J.P. Ricciardi is single-handedly destroying what was once a proud baseball organization? No one. That’s who.
Cub Fans Will Be Whining About Something
They always do. They always will. They never stop. Whether it’s invoking the spirit of Cub castaway Steve Bartman, repeating ye ole circa 2003 mantra: “Prior and Wood, Prior and Wood, Prior and Wood” or just getting too drunk to know what’s actually going on during the game, Cub fans were born to lose. And in personifying their joyous moniker of “Lovable Losers”, they love to whine. Sure. They’ll win the division. How can they not? But they’ll find a way to blow it in the playoffs and we sane baseball folk will be subjected to yet another lengthy offseason of wouldas, couldas and shouldas — a century old Northside tradition.
Gary Sheffield Will Say Something Stupid
Happens every year, folks. He might even box someone too, that is, if he can find the strength to walk from homeplate all the way out to the mound. And if he plays in more than 114 games, there’s a good chance that he’ll add even more guts and gore to that Phillies/Mets rivalry we’ve all come to enjoy over the last few years. Sheff is certainly setup to give new meaning to the phrase “choke artist”. All Cole Hamels has to do is open his mouth.
Joba Chamberlain Will Try His Luck with Erin Andrews — Again — and Fail Miserably — Again
I know, I know. Ms. Andrews said it was nothing, but we saw the video (which has conveniently been erased from the entire interweb) and let’s face it: Joba struck out like Adam Dunn after an all-night bender. Having been in that situation myself, and being a guy, I think it’s safe to say Joba will go there again. Men are stupid. Ladies, am I right?
Yet looking into my crystal ball, dear readers, the one blooping gaffe that is bound to come up again and again this season is almost too easy to call:
Kyle Farnsworth Will Be the Laughingstock of Major League Baseball
They hated him in Chicago. They hated him in New York. They hated him in Detroit. If the Royals had any fans, they would hate him in Kansas City too. But at the end of the day, no one can deny that Farnsy has become the whipping boy of baseball sadists all across US America. When a kind-hearted She-Fan openly in love with her beloved Yankees rips the man to death in her best-selling book, it is safe to say that Kyle Farnsworth is and always will be fair game. He should’ve known better: “There’s no crying in baseball!”
Hate me ‘cuz I can be an ^ss, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
If you read the newspaper or watch the evening news or leave your house every day, you might find the above statement to be true.
Ironically, it is true. Because whether we like it or not, we are all going to die; however, I personally like to think it won’t happen to me until I’m around 90 years old, gripping a cold one while I overexert myself with my 20-something year old gold-digger.
And I’m cool with that.
What I am not cool with is the tense and terse escalation of fear-mongering which has replaced logic and common sense among those who “inform” us on the world’s goings-on. Admittedly, some problems are bigger than others. I ain’t no fool. I get it. But since I am willing, able and sober (for now), allow me to mend some of these major issues with some easy fixins’…
THE PROBLEM: Mexico’s Exploding Drug Violence
THE SOLUTION: Carlos Lee
It’s easy. Hand El Caballo an AK-47. Give him immunity. Let him go to work.
I know, I know. Carlos is Panamanian, not Mexican. Doesn’t matter. He speaks the language, he’s scarier than Dick Cheney on a hunting trip and he plays for the Astros (meaning he’s expendable). Indeed, I had the pleasure of meeting El Caballo as he was getting on the Astros’ team bus after a game at Wrigley a couple of years ago and while the man is only 6’2, he has to be the most behemoth of a human being I have ever encountered in real life. He’s listed at 235 lbs., but that is a stone cold lie. He looks like he ate my entire family for lunch and I have a huge family. Anyone who can devour me and my six sisters has the inner wrath and tenacity it would take to bring down Mexican drug lords galore. ¡Venga, Carlito! ¡Ya basta! ¡Venga, venga!
THE PROBLEM: World Financial Crisis
THE SOLUTION: Pittsburgh Pirates, Kansas City Royals, San Diego Padres
Assemble the wealthiest 1% of people in the world. Force them to put their money into global markets equally, thus spreading the love, injecting life, creating confidence. If they do not follow this direction, simply hand them ownership to the Pirates, Royals and Padres and watch them die a slow, meaningless death.
THE PROBLEM: Chicago’s Intra-City Turf War
THE SOLUTION: Shut Milton Bradley’s Trap
For a guy who has the meaty reputation of being an unadulterated ^sshole everywhere he goes playing for a team that hasn’t won a World Series in 101 years, Milton Bradley sure does a lot of incessant yapping. Uh, Milton, didn’t you get the memo from Ryan Dempster and Ronny Cedeno? Yeah, they’ve been there, done that. Their feet ended up in their mouths. Yours probably will too.
‘Cuz no matter how good the Cubs are on paper, Milton, no matter how good they should be this season, no matter how many knowledgeable baseball folks pick you guys to go all the way, at the end of the day, Milton, you play for a loser. A LOSER. In fact, they are the only professional baseball team nicknamed the “Lovable Losers”, Milton. Yes. That’s true.
You want to talk about Chicago winners, Milton? Since Jordan & Co. left town, the White Sox are it, buddy.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
He must have been a Pirates fan.
Yet spring training is supposed to be that time of year when every team has a shot at being the best, every team has the opportunity to go all the way, every team can hope to be champions — well, every team not named the Pirates, Royals and now: The St. Louis Cardinals.
That’s right, folks. The Cardinals were big losers before they even got to camp thanks to one General Manager John Mozeliak. It is no secret that I hold little regard for the man who did nothing to better our ball club during this off-season, so I will refrain from further condemning him back to the bookish hell from which he originally oozed.
What I will do instead is make it easy for you, dear readers, Cardinal lovers and Cardinal haters alike: those days of St. Louis fans harboring perennial playoff hopes are long gone. And all that remains is an empty, blown-out pipedream much akin to that of one Theo Roll, modern dancer extraordinaire.
Don’t know who Theo Roll, modern dancer extraordinaire is?
Watch and learn (at the 1:35 mark look for some fine, world class, Academy Award worthy acting):
Get my drift?
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.