Results tagged ‘ Twins ’
The Truth is: the view from Pujols-ville is more than satisfying these days. Despite my colleague’s dastardly attempts to poke holes in the euphoric reality of the game’s best player hitting walk-off homeruns to champion the St. Louis Cardinals to its current nine game lead in the NL Central over the Chicago sCrUBS, I continue to attest to the wondrous ecstasy that is having a bonafide man-crush on Number 5.
Say what you want, Mr. Krause, Pujols-ville is full of winners.
The same cannot be said for the barely above mediocre Detroit Tigers.
And when times are tough, Mr. Krause — when the .500 Minnesota Twins and sub .500 Chicago White Sox have legitimate shots at besting your patchwork club — I understand that human nature may force you to criticize, to chide, to castigate. Indeed, your rural upper middle class gun-totin’ religion-clingin’ Republican roots have crept their way into the conversation with your most recent closing statement:
“Don’t hate me because of my inability to fantasize about Albert Pujols
in a kiddie pool full of tapioca pudding. Hate me ‘cuz I’m right.”
Jealously does often cause one to slander.
But the above statement is more than just blasphemy. It’s code.
You see, dear readers, Mr. Krause and I both fancy ourselves as learned linguists. With two foreign languages under each of our respective belts (that’s four total, not counting the mother tongue), it’s easy for us to slip hidden messages here and there. In this case, the curious Albert/kiddie-pool/tapioca-pudding reference has deeper meaning…
Ne me détestez pas en raison de mon incapacité de fantasmer au sujet d’Albert Pujols dans un regroupement de kiddie complètement de pudding de tapioca. Détestez-moi ‘cuz que j’ai raison.
No odio, porque no puedo Albert Pujols un grupo de fantasía para niños que pudín plenamente tapioca. Odio porque yo tenía razón.
لا اكره لأنني لا أستطيع ألبرت Pujols مجموعة من الخيال للأطفال بشكل كامل التابيوكا الحلوى. أنا أكره لأنني كنت على حق.
And finally, back to English:
“Did not force! For that I, Albert, did not can Pujols’ group from the horseman for the children, thoroughly Al-Hulwah! I forced for that. I was justified.”
Yep. Mystery solved. Mr. Krause wishes he were Albert. He fears those pesky horsemen, the children and most importantly, those more than creepy Al-Hulwahs.
Hard for me to hate Mr. Krause for that. Sometimes the Al-Hulwahs even keep me up at night.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Nothing says US American like a cute, dumb, South Carolinian teenager proclaiming our need to help the “education like such as South Africa and, uh, the Iraq everywhere like, such as”… well, I mean, nothing says US American like that and fireworks. Of course.
And boy are the fireworks a flyin’.
Satiating our drama-seeking souls, Placido Polanco provided plenty of fireworks after getting clipped in the nuts by a foul tip in last evening’s 16-inning game against the Twins. He took a long, painful breather before getting back in the batter’s box and hitting the game-winning single right back up the middle.
In Cincinnati, Albert Pujols — BASEBALL GOD INCARNATE — made a strong case for his being walked with the bases loaded. Instead, David Weathers (whom Albert owns) threw one right down central. Pujols wasted no time in hitting his fourth grand slam of the season.
Still, these on the field heroics have nothing on the fireworks Sarah Palin shot off Friday by announcing her resignation as governor of the great state of Alaska.
We put our faithful RSBS interns on the beat and they discovered the following reasons behind Palin’s controversial gubernatorial departure:
- Alaska is boring
- wants to move to Canada, where people actually know what a “hockey mom” is
- needs more time to combat pro-choice, but only in cases involving middle to upper class white people
- Todd Palin is tired of being shown up by his librarian-hot wife
- the Washington Nationals are holding tryouts and she’s been working on a knuckle ball
- wants to hunt down Katie Couric, shoot her and feed her to bears
- Lorne Michaels offered her a permanent role on SNL as the new reincarnation of Dana Carvey’s Church Lady (Tina Fey’s position as Palin will not change)
- experimenting with new medical procedure that will allow her to “grow a pair”
- embarrassed she misunderstood the TransCanada Pipeline project did not involve weed
- earmarked billions to provide maps to US Americans out there in our nation who don’t have maps, which will eventually aid the education like such as South Africa and, uh, the Iraq everywhere like, such as so everyone can plainly see that the “bridge to nowhere” does go to a town with a population of 50 people, all of whom desperately need maps to find that $442 million bridge
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Happy 4th, my fellow US Americans!
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
We begin (as we often do when it comes to failure) in our nation’s capitol where the former Montreal Expos put on an exposition all their own the other evening. I could explain the premise of the story but I think this one quote just about sums it up: “…if there’s one thing we all can agree upon, it’s that exploding hot dog buns are high comedy indeed.” How can you top that? Well, maybe by spelling the name of your own team incorrectly on your jersey. But seriously guys, please keep it coming.
However, the farcical comedy stylings of the Washington Nationals pale in comparison to the tragi-comedy of the Chicago White Sox. Sure, they play in a mediocre division so they’re never really going to be out of it but they took a beating and a half yesterday afternoon. It all started when the Twins plated 20 runs to the Sox’ one and just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, the always eloquent Ozzie Guillen’s managed to jinx the impending Jake Peavy trade. Let me refresh your memory. Following the loss Guillen said, “I hope Peavy didn’t watch the scoreboard today. He might say no.”
Well Ozzie, you sure nailed that one. Maybe Peavy watched the scoreboard and maybe he didn’t but either way, he won’t be suiting up in Chicago pinstripes anytime soon.
So that’s where we stand as May slowly draws to a close. But don’t worry, the Nationals are still out there and it’s only a matter of time before they manage to outdo themseleves once again. My guess? Teddy Roosevelt gets decapitated in the President’s Race on Kid’s Day at the ballpark. Once again ladies and gentlemen, your 2009 Washington Nationals!
–Thanks to SLK for the link to the Nats story.
This weekend we saw a series pitting the team with the best record in
the league against the team with the worst record. At what point in the
season do you think we’ll see this again and which teams will take part
the next time around?
As long as the Washington Nationals continue to be a baseball franchise (sorta), you can be quite sure that this scenario will pop up once again. Will they be playing the MLB best Cardinals next time? The Dodgers? The Blue Jays in June during interleague play?
The truth is: I have absolutely no clue.
Because so far nothing this season has been on my radar: that the Cardinals’ piecemeal bullpen could hold itself together through April… that the Blue Jays would find a way to win in the AL East… that no one wants Pedro Martinez…
But in the end, one thing will always remain certain: The Washington Nationals are a national joke.
After some hardcore number-crunching analysis, one might conclude that their suckage is rooted in their inherent identity crisis:
- Are we the Expos?
- Are we the Senators who are now the Twins?
- Are we the Nationals who were the Expos?
- Are we the other Senators who are now the Rangers?
Or perhaps it stems from their dizzying closet of uniform combinations:
Dear readers, I could go in a million different directions with that snafu of a baseball bodega — none of them good — but I will save you (and myself) from the certain discomfort and unpleasant visualization it would cause.
Whatever the reason for the Nationals’ lack of success, I must admit how sad it was for me — as a baseball fan — to see such a beautiful ballpark only a quarter full for a Friday night game. It was disappointing too that there were more Cardinal fans in attendance than Nats fans and that the loudest cheers I heard all weekend were in response to the Capitals vs. Penguins playoff hockey game — the favorable D.C. score of which was posted on the jumbotron in between innings, thus rousing Washingtonians into a fervent coup d’etat aimed towards building a bigger hockey arena while at the same time finding a more thirsty suitor for the oh-so-lowly Nats, all of their prior nicknames, logos and dysfunctional sausages.
So far, no takers.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Senators Sausages image courtesy of Wonkette)
(Uniform image courtesy of Wikipedia)
Pope Benedict XVI’s Good Friday address was what most of us expected it to be: warming, inviting, aggressive. And since my esteemed secular colleague, Mr. Krause, already achieved his annual civic duty of offending the Catholic church, I will refrain from continuing such questioning threads… except to say: WHAT?!?!
Acknowledging the world’s escalating progressive temperature towards logic and science, the Pope warned the masses that Western society is currently collapsing into “a desert of godlessness”.
I think not.
Admittedly, I am not your typical religious type; yet I do have the propensity to ponder the existence of higher powers. One need only examine the current state of the greatest game on earth to realize that indeed, something “other” is at work:
Kyle Farnsworth still has a job.
J.P. Ricciardi still has a job.
And Bartolo Colon is pitching today.
Yes, dear readers. Today, Comiskey is my church, Colon is my vehicle and baseball is my savior.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Anything wrong with that? Not in my opinion. In a world full of greed, hate, debauchery and Cubs baseball, I find solace knowing that even the tireless spin-doctoring and smoke-screening of Rod Blagojevich eventually falls on the deaf ears of a nation distracted with the task of rebuilding itself.
Blago’s days as governor are as numbered as Joe Morgan is annoying; and soon, he will just be another political coelacanth — a footnote in the oppression and wasted tax-dollars of a people.
In my fervent bidding adieu, I refuse to let Blago’s self-indulgent, gloomy demise get me down. The older I get, the more I realize how little my brain can actually remember if not trained otherwise; thus, I find it best to replace negativity with post-partisan positivity. So it is, on this four degree Sunday afternoon, with a broken heart and three cups of coffee too many, that I find grace in the baseball-politico memories dearest to me.
Of course, there are always the Joe Carters, the Kirk Gibsons, the Ozzie Smiths… the inauguration of a new hope for my country… those are all givens. Today I focus on the obscure, the seemingly minute, the more poignant personal moments that help me to forget about what an awful place this earth can be sometimes. And so I begin…
Ozzie Guillen Goes to Bobby Jenks
A move he’s made several times, but never as interesting as it was during the 2005 post-season when Ozzie motioned for Jenks by extending his arms out sideways as if to say: “Bring in the fat fella.”
Talking to Carlos Lee Outside Wrigley Field
Having gone hitless against Ted Lilly that night, I was stunned to see a smiling Carlos Lee on the corner of Sheffield and Addison waiting to get on the Astros player’s bus. I approached him — all gargantuan 230 plus pounds of him — and flippantly asked: “Caballo, what happened?”
“Ball move too much, man.”
I’m still laughing at that one.
“Yes We Can” Viral Video
Sure, I admit I’m a sucker for inspirational acts of creativity… this one still gets me.
Brian Anderson’s Catch
Picture it, October 1, 2008… a one game playoff between the White Sox and Twins to crown the AL Central winner, and a Jim Thome homerun is all that separates the two when we reach the top of the ninth and two outs. A sharp flare streamlines to right center field, in comes Brian Anderson… instant party on the Southside.
Bill Clinton on Carroll Quigley, DNC 1992
As a young, impressionable, questioning 12 year-old, this quote pushed me in to politics… to stay.
Adam Wainwright’s Curveball
Whether it was striking out Carlos Beltran looking or Brandon Inge swinging, I’ve never seen a more devastating hook — ever.
Barack Obama’s 2004 DNC Keynote Address
I thought a change was a comin’… didn’t know it was going to take so long, but it got me revved up nonetheless.
Yadier Molina Hitting .304 in 2008
After the rocket homerun he hit off Aaron Heilman to beat the Mets in the 2006 NLCS, Molina became my indisputable hero. To see him blossom into a true hitter in conjunction with his unrivaled defensive skills just makes me want to hug the guy any chance I get. Yadi, you out there, pal? Let’s hook that up.
Grandma Lois Talking Baseball
May she rest in peace, my beloved grandmother was talking Cardinals baseball like no other 84 year-old I knew. Before the 2004 season, she told me: “It’d be nice to see Edmonds and Rolen have really good years.” She died on April 20, 2004; Jimmy and Scott both put up career numbers and vied for the MVP. I know she’s still smiling about that one.
Post 9/11 Baseball in New York
I’d be hard pressed to find a more inspiring, more electric, more communal surge of patriotic energy and overall bipartisan goodwill towards all through the greatest game on earth than what took place in New York City that fall.
I still get goosebumps just thinking of it.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Apparently Mr. Krause has learned very little over this grinding 2008 season. While his beloved Detroit Tigers spent the entire year daydreaming about how they were gonna go blow those big bucks they pocketed without deserving them, my colleague Allen also lost sight of the grandest rule of the grandest game on earth: It ain’t over ’til it’s over.
Just ask the New York Mets.
Or the White Sox for that matter… for different reasons.
While I have no viable reason to eschew your proposal, Mr. Krause, I do find it my duty to kick you in the teeth to remind you that the White Sox are still alive, that the playoff participants have yet to be solidified, and that no matter what deal you bring to the table, I will always be right.
After the White Sox defeat the Twins in Tuesday night’s one-off playoff, then you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be on the Southside train all the way to Wrigleyville if it indeed goes in that direction.
Of course, a Second City Classic would be sublime for me as a Chicagoan; however, like the millions of Cub-haters who share my opinion, there is no way in hell I’ll ever be rooting for the Northsiders — ever. They could be playing the Munich Hitlers, the Tokyo Hirohitos or the New York Yankees. I still ain’t budgin’.
So there you have it. Patience, my friend. After it’s all said and done, I’ll take much pleasure in proving you wrong just as I’ve done throughout the grueling 162 game (+1) season.
And to add one bit of finality to another outlandish, unresearched bit of barbarity that escaped your mind without being fully vetted, let me remind you, Mr. Krause, the St. Louis Cardinals finished the season 10 games over .500. Yet still, you found it appropriate to say:
“…the Cards don’t deserve to be there because, well, they sucked this season.”
Well, not really, Al. The Cardinals had a tremendous year given the circumstances. They finished with a better record this season than they did in 2006 when they won it all. They won 86 games this year with a bullpen reminiscent of my little league team from 1992, including guys whose arms were falling off mid-delivery. You see, Al, the Dodgers are in the playoffs and they were two wins shy of the Cardinals. So, by that logic you’d say that the Dodgers haven’t a chance because they “sucked this season” as well?
No. I’ll tell you who sucked this season. Your Tigers. They finished dead last in the AL Central. DEAD LAST. BEHIND THE ROYALS.
BEHIND THE ROYALS.
BEHIND THE ROYALS!
Good luck with trying to live with that one.
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I asked a similar question in the hypothetical earlier this season but now that some aspects of the postseason have sorted themselves out, I have to ask again. What makes you more sad, the Cubs winning the NL Central or the Cards not making the playoffs?
For all of you who picture me sitting in the alcove of my apartment drowning in the proverbial sea of my own tears because the Cardinals will be home this post-season while the Cubs journey on, you’re probably not too far off from reality. Of course, the half empty bottle of Jack, the lonely cavern of my heart and the clear and present danger of having one Sarah Palin next in line to the highest office in the land most certainly have more to do with my wallowing than the current state of baseball.
As I have said here before, the Cubs were supposed to win the Central and be one of the best teams in baseball this year. So why, Mr. Krause, should I be so surprised to actually see this come true? We’re both highly educated, extremely learned, dashingly handsome young men, so cut me a little slack here.
Verily, the true river of tears has yet to flow. In fact, it is on standby until the final outcome of the AL Central battle. If my neighborhood Sox find a way to wiggle back in there, then all will be well again and I will have much to look forward to.
If the menacing Twins manage to squeak in (which would realistically only extend their inevitable fate of just not being good enough) then I will go ahead and cry… right along side Mr. Krause, who again, finds himself rooting for the worst team money can buy.
Crying is nothing new to baseball fans. The likes of Bill Buckner, Bartman and Don Denkinger — among myriad others — have long tortured the hearts and souls of those most loyal.
And no one will cry harder (or longer) than Mets fans if the the second team of New York blows it — yet again — at the very last minute. Stay tuned… or, just keep your ears open for the hisses and boos from the Met faithful. That ricketty old stadium may come tumbling down sooner — and in a more creative way — than we all think.
Don’t hate me, ‘cuz as always, I’m right.
Did I forget to say “Happy Autumn” last week? If I did, I truly apologize. I guess I figured that most RSBS readers had already figured out the change of season. It’s usually pretty evident from the bite in the air, the start of the football season and the Mets’ annual late-season choke.
And it’s even better this year with the Yankees relegated to the sidelines. In fact, except for some minor concerns (the credit crisis and imminent depression, Michigan’s loss to Notre Dame), things couldn’t be much better right now.
But I can’t just leave it at that. That’s not how I roll. No, just like my buddy John McCain, I need to make a “dramatic and devastating” statement.
And here it is: I will not write any more mean things about either the Republican Presidential nominee or the Republican Vice Presidential nominee. Like my mother always told me, if you can’t say anything nice, just don’t say anything at all.
Instead, it’s only going to be important, sports-based commentary as we shift our focus towards the ongoing playoff races. For instance, have you been watching those Mets, Phillies and Brewers as they battle for the NL wild card? Or how about the dogfight between the White Sox and Twins in the AL Central? And what about that USC-Oregon State shocker Thursday night? And…uh, well, and…
….I’m sorry. I just can’t do it. I mean, have you seen this:
This is Bill Buckner-esque. I have very low expectations when it comes to our elected officials but at this point I think I’d rather have Harry Caray as VP. I’d rather have Joe Buck. Hell, I’d rather have Erin Andrews and you all know my views on her.
You know what’s beautiful, though? Even though we have no control over the playoff races and what happens to our teams, we do have a say in who gets elected in November. And that’s why I want to take this opportunity to urge any RSBS readers out there who aren’t already registered to make sure they do it soon. If you aren’t or you just aren’t sure, here’s a great site that will help you either figure out where you are registered or take you through the process for the first time. It doesn’t matter if you “Rock the vote” or “Vote or die.” What matters is that you vote.