Results tagged ‘ Yadier Molina ’
And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles…
Jeff and Johanna join forces in what is secretly designed as an intervention for Allen and his anachronistic memory. The three of them then launch into some raunchy debates over this young MLB season, including but not limited to double headers, home plate collisions, “offensive” t-shirts and much, much more… all to make you smile for berry berry long time!
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Recorded Saturday, May 28, 2011
If you could spend the day with any non-Cardinal baseball player
currently playing in the majors, who would it be and what would you do?
Is it just me or am I constantly being set up by my friends and dear readers to expound on my favorite baseballers in a way that encourages embracing a certain, subtly disclosed homoerotic undertone?
Or, maybe I’m just reading too much into it.
Okay, Melissa, so you take away my number one and two options by canceling out the Cards; but let me assure you, the number three spot is also a no-brainer. For me, anyway. Of course, you may be shocked to hear it but for this hypothetical man-crush date (is it a man-crush date or did I make that part up too?) I’m going with the one, the only:
Stephen James Strasburg.
Here’s how our
date day will go…
9 a.m. Workout
I pick Stephen up and we head to the Nats’ training facility. I am Stephen’s shadow. I do very little talking and a whole lot of observing. I don’t wanna make this strange for the 22 year old phenom, so I just go with the flow. I know Stephen is out for the season, recovering from Tommy John surgery, but a man’s still gotta stay in shape and I wanna know how he does it. (Also, when no one is looking, I coat Nyjer Morgan’s supportive equipment with government grade Tiger Balm.)
12 p.m. Lunch
We eat a healthy, protein-packed lunch that will fire our fast twitch muscle fibers so we recover faster, to become stronger. I now start asking questions, overly aware of how annoying I can be when given free reign to discuss all-things baseball. Eventually, these questions lead to hitter preparation science, so off we go to…
2 p.m. Video Room
I want to get inside the head of Stephen Strasburg. So I present to him a reel of the Major League’s best hitters: Albert Pujols, Adrian Gonzalez, Joey Votto. I want to know how he is going to approach them. I want to see him point out their holes. Stephen, of course, is as calculated as he is modest, and he ain’t givin’ up too many secrets.
3 p.m. Practice Field [For this part, let us forget that Stephen can’t pitch right now, shall we?]
Luckily, I brought along my catcher’s equipment from high school (it all still fits!), including my over sized mitt. I take my place behind the plate and ask Stephen to go easy on me. In high school I think the fastest fastball I ever caught was in the 70 mph range. After three Strasburg change-ups, I lose all feeling in my catching hand. But this is Stephen Friggin’ Strasburg, so I man up, take the pain and ask for more. Watching his yacker yack and his fastball bite, wow… just, wow.
5 p.m. My Crib
All my best friends (Mr. Krause, Johanna Mahmud, Yadier Molina) come over to my place. We got beer. We got wings. We got pizza. We also got a big screen HD TV showing the very first Strasmas ever: June 8, 2010 — the greatest single regular season game that didn’t mean anything, ever played, in the history of my universe. Ever. We watch in amazement as Stephen talks us through each at-bat, each pitch, each hair raising moment.
After three plus hours of pizza, wings, beer and Strasmas in my very own living room, I am finally able to sit back on my couch, relax, and wait to die.
It’s been a splendid day.
Life is good.
Don’t hate me.
‘Cuz I’m right.
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Two years ago, in order to quell our insatiable desire for all-things baseball prior to Opening Day, my woebegone and oft curt colleague (Mr. Allen Krause) and I decided to get our baseball fill through glorious song. Said gloriousness was achieved by lip-syncing “Crush” by David Archuleta.
It was da bomb.
And it played a major role in making RSBS a household MLBlog name.
Everything was perfect…
Sony had the video blocked. About a year ago. They claimed we shouldn’t be able to post the material because it was not our music. We acknowledged that — DUH — but retorted that ours fell under parody law, that we made no claim that it was our song. We gave credit where it was due and only asked that our interpretation of Archuleta’s hit be given a chance to thrive, because other baseball beserkers would find it consoling during the antsy prelude to the long season.
Somehow, the baseball gods were appeased. And “Crush” is back online.*
For all of our dear readers — new, old, barely breathing — please, enjoy the show!
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
**Apparently, some folks outside the US may still have it blocked. So, uh… guess you better move to ‘Merica so you can see it.
Ask anyone from my parents’ generation where they were and what they were doing when President Kennedy was assassinated, when the Beatles invaded America or when they first saw Jacqueline Bisset in a wet t-shirt, and chances are he or she will be able to recall every, single, little detail.
Unfortunately, February 23, 2011 will be that day for me: the day Waino went down for the season — a seemingly unerasable stain on the psyche of a bonafide baseball beserker (me, duh).
Booze was consumed, things were broken, neighbors were frightened.
But that’s over now. I got it all out of my system. And just as in dealing with any other tragic situation, I allowed myself to grieve. But now it’s time to man-up and put things in perspective.
We are still talking about the St. Louis friggin’ Cardinals here. And while we may not have him locked up long-term, we do have the greatest single baseball player of the last quarter century headlining our team, every single day in Albert Pujols.
We still have an ace in Chris Carpenter. We still have AP protection in Matt Holliday. We still have running-game assassin extraordinaire Yadi Molina behind the plate.
And we have the winningest active manager in the game leading them all in Tony LaRussa.
Ain’t no reason to cry, fellow Redbirds fans. The NL Central climate may have changed; we probably don’t line up to run away with the division now, but we have every reason to watch every game and feel really damn good about it.
Rally the troops.
This is war.
Haters g’on hate.
Hate me. Fine. Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Image courtesy of Eff Yeah Baseball Gifs)
Um… okay. So this is what happens when Brendan Ryan becomes better known for a poorly marketed pornstache than his actual comeuppance as an everyday St. Louis Cardinals shortstop. Oh, wait. No comeuppance? He sucks? My bad.
Which is sorta why I haven’t really said much this offseason about my dearly beloved Redbirds. What’ s there to say? Jake Westbrook signed? Okay. Cool. We traded Blake Hawksworth for Ryan Theriot? M’kay… nice. I guess. Can we guarantee that Skip Schumaker won’t take another step backwards? How about facing the fact that closer Ryan Franklin really ain’t cut out to be a closer? And then…???
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I still haven’t really gotten over the crapfest that was the second half of the 2010 season. No one likes a sore loser, but goddamn it if I ain’t still sore as hell! Matt Holliday, Albert Pujols, Adam Wainwright, Chris Carpenter… YADIER MOLINA.
Friends, Romans, Cubs fans… those names command a division title.
And that’s what I want. At the very least, we ought to be slaying the Reds, the Cubs and whatever other foe floats carelessly towards the top.
Does Ryan Theriot magically make that happen? Uh… no. In fact, as a hitter, Baseball Reference has Theriot matched up with the likes of Aaron Miles, Jason Bartlett and former St. Louis Brown, Ernie Johnson. And while Bartlett had one good year, let’s not get too excited over these comparisons; ‘cuz frankly, there’s little that breeds excitement.
Yes, maybe Theriot will solve the leadoff problem that has crippled the Cardinals in recent years. Then again, he probably won’t. He’s gotta beat out Brendo and Skippy for a job first, which for us anticipating fans, is sorta like having to vote from a pool of John Kerry, George W. Bush and a bowl of potato salad.
Which one is the bowl of potato salad? I’ll leave that up to you.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m still bitter, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
What are your thoughts on Chris Carpenter? Do you take it all as “intensely passionate” or just a good ol’ jerk?
Underneath the Halo
I don’t care much for St. Louis. You could put me pretty firmly in the Brandon Phillips camp on this one and my feelings toward the Cardinals’ organization. I didn’t like Tony LaRussa when he managed the A’s and I don’t like him now. I could care less about Albert Pujols and Alfred Molina. I mean Bengie Molina. Damn. Yadier. I don’t like the Cardinals.
But I do enjoy seeing guys get fired up and making themselves heard. I grew up watching Bob Probert enforce for the Red Wings (I’m guessing he’s also not a big fan of St. Louis based on his interactions with Tie Domi) and the day that Bill Laimbeer and his elbows gave way to Michael and the beautiful game was a sad day for all Michiganders.
So I respect Carpenter going into the fracas and deciding to own it. Sure, he may have been overshadowed by Cueto’s karate kicks and the managers’ ejections. But only one man truly owned this rumble and that man is Chris Carpenter. Without him, it’s just a bunch of guys jawing at each other. He took it to that next level, the level where bad blood becomes real blood and a true rivalry comes into existence.
And, quite honestly, baseball is better for it. Rivalries create storylines and storylines sell tickets. Add a little fisticuffs into the mix and you’ve got magic.
Let’s not get too excited here, though. My respect for Carpenter is finite and in no way extends to the rest of his team. After all, like Phillips already pointed out, they are “little b!tches, all of ’em.”
Photo courtesy of Yahoo!Sports
The virgin voyage, y’all!
Okay, so you knew this was gonna happen eventually… just enjoy it. We did!
And so in this Podcast…
Jeff introduces Chicago rock phenom and avid Cubs fan, Johanna Mahmud to the RSBS family. When not front-manning the intoxicating alt-rock group, Meqqa, Johanna manages to drink Jeff’s beer and fantasize about a team made up of twenty-five Alfonso Sorianos. Okay. That second part may be a lie… but this part ain’t: when these two guys start talkin’ baseball, it’s all fun and games. Among the topics of discussion: Roy Oswalt’s bulldozer, Lou Piniella’s preggers look, the Brendan Ryan pornostache hysteria, Hanley’s lollipop and much, much more.
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Subscribe to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
Subscribe via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
*Special thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and all-around sound guru. He always knows where Ryne Sandberg is. Always.
For more on Meqqa, please visit their website *CLICK ME!*
Recorded Saturday, May 22, 2010
Just because the Thanksgiving holiday is officially over doesn’t mean we should stop giving thanks; and today, dear readers, I am thankful that my family got to spend these precious sunny days off with me in my home.
I’ve written about the blessings of my nephew Caleb before. I’ve also mentioned the potential baseball family divide inherent in his parenting (his mom/my sister is a Cardinals fan, his dad a Cubs fan). But when it comes to raising a fine young boy, I don’t doubt those two’s combined credentials at all — even if one day he does decide to don a blue cap with a red “C” on it.
But y’all know me. And I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try to persuade this youth to the best of my abilities now, while I have the chance. That’s why the second his daddy stepped out of the house, I immediately began preaching to Caleb the wondrous merits of one Yadier Molina. So impressed was Caleb that he decided he’d like to take it a step further. So we did:
Like I thought, once he put on that jersey and that interlocking “STL”, the kid was just beside himself. He couldn’t stop dancing for joy! He moved so much that my camera couldn’t get a solid, non-blurry picture of him, but still, you get the point.
Hate me ‘cuz I lobby for the Redbirds on impressionable youth, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.