I Am Bill James and I Am Smarter Than You

Greetings, fuckwits. You are all lucky enough to be in the presence of the most freakishly intelligent man in the history of professional baseball. I find your invitation to the Pasadena Shrine of the Eternals appropriate, and thus, I’ve decided to actually show up and do a little Q & A. It’s not quite the baseball Hall of Fame, but that will obviously come in time. My minions call me "The Sage of New Hampshire," and this gives me the right to pass on a hearty “fuck you” to Warren Buffet, "The Sage of Ohmaha." Whereas I’m the sage of my own state, he’s only a sage of a city, so I own his ass. What do you mean New Hampshire doesn’t count as a state? Lick my balls.

For years I’ve been saying things like “It’s entirely possible to be completely successful in the baseball business without ascribing to any of my work.” I, much like the vast majority my followers (just look on Internet message boards everywhere), am reversing this statement, and saying that it is total bullcrap, and anyone who doesn’t follow in-depth statistical baseball analysis should automatically lose the right to watch a game of professional baseball. I mean, why watch when you can't possibly understand everything what's going on? In some cases, said person should lose the right to breed, because he/she might have a son, and that would pervert this glorious eugenics of baseball I’m striving to achieve, here. Baseball is not for the plebs, people! It is for we happy few, we band of egg-heads, who have never played an ounce of the game professionally yet still by the light of our incalculable intellects, know absolutely everything there is to know. On to your almost certainly dumb questions.

What’s your opinion of Darin Erstad, and considering his track record with the Angels, isn't a player like that valuable on a championship team?

Haha. HAHAHAHA. BWAHAHAHA!! In the Dark Ages, hordes of roving barbarian Cossack tribes in what is now Southern Russia would conquer neighboring peoples, and in a fit of sport, would throw their infant children to hungry wolves and watch them be eaten. That’s what I’d do to Darin Erstad, if I had a time machine, which by the way, I’m inventing, and fuck you, it’s already patented, because it’s a motherfucking time machine. Darin Erstad blows donkey balls. He can’t hit, he can’t field, and he can’t play. And who gives a monkey-shit about how he “hustles” and “won championships”? I don’t know how many times I have to say this: if I can’t put it in a spreadsheet, dickhead, then it DOESN’T.FUCKING.EXIST.

Look where that little bitch is right now-- trying to avoid getting DFA’ed by the Chicago White Sox (or CHA for any of you non BP subscribing cock goblins). Any team that steals, bunts, and gives consistent AB’s to Scott Podsednik, deserves a punch right in the pussy. Darin Erstad sucks, he should die, next question.

Are you impressed with Brewers 1B Prince Fielder, and what does his progression mean for smaller market teams?

According to the tools that I invented (praise me) such as VORP, RCAA, Win Shares, and other super-cereal-statistics given by me solely to the Boston Red Sox to be unleashed like a tactical nuclear warhead, I can tell you that Prince Fielder is the best overall player in terms of everything, relative to cost. Yea and what else is new? What this means for smaller market teams is that it is time to stop spending big money on marquee free agents if your team is filled with a bunch of crap players. The only way to make your team succeed is to undergo a harsh rebuilding process where nearly each and every one of your core players is acquired through the draft. What if you can't draft, or afford the outrageous signing bonuses top picks get nowadays? Too bad bitch. Now, this rebuilding typically takes around five years, and by that time your fans will either be gone, rooting for the Yankees, or giving their energies to a different sport, but how is that my fucking problem exactly? I just make the rules, if you don’t like the way how they’re used, then tough testicles. After all, the best part about sitting in an ivory tower is pissing on the people below you.

Mr. James, you’ve never apologized for your criticisms of the Dowd report, despite Pete Rose proclaiming his guilt and affirming everything written in its findings. Don’t you think that as one of the leading voices in baseball theory, you have an obligation to speak your piece on a corrupting influence in the game?

No comment, next question, and fuck you.

Horrors of horrors, the New York Yankees haven’t won a World Series in seven whole years. Isn’t it better to let A-Rod opt out, and try to rebuild the team around pitching and defense? The guy isn’t at all clutch!

I remain unconvinced about the theory of “clutch” and it’s usefulness to baseball analysis. But what I do know is that you are a drooling, dribbling, retard. According to my statistics (again, praise me) Rodriguez is the best all-around player in the game. Consider that with the dollars Texas has contributed, and Rodriguez is a relative bargain for New York. There are some indicators that in a short series, pitching and defense wins (the sample sizes are too small obvi), but your belief that the Yankees should rid themselves of their best player in order to achieve this is somewhere between the stupidest idea that’s ever defiled the sanctuary of my glorious mind, and guganuafia’a, which is stat-speak for “you are a dumbshit.” But sure, fuck it, boo the fucker and drive him away. It makes my job a hell of a lot easier.

In closing, I’d like to thank Pasadena, but truly, I am already an “Eternal.” It was a nice ceremony, with balloons and sangria, but I was expecting something more… regal. After all, I am the father of statistical baseball analysis, the most important man in baseball, and (according to some people) the finest living being on the planet. Armchair net jockeys everywhere use my teachings like a voodoo talisman against any who would dare say that it's important to steal when the team can't seem to score. I’m like Kim Jong Il from the North Korean perspective, except I look like the gay guy who won the 1st Survivor competition. Next time, I hope you change your veneration practices accordingly, and try hard not to be so stupid.

Scott Boras Smokes Crack

Scott Boras, baseball super-agent for Alex Rodriguez, Barry Zito, and the soon to be free agent Carlos Zambrano, has a new idea that could have only come from the mind of someone using powerful and deadly mind expanding drugs. Some might say it’s strange for someone so rich and influential to be under the influence of such substances, but ever since Ed Muskie got all whacked out on Ibogaine in 1972, anything is possible in America if there is enough corruption involved. New York scribe Bob Klapisch describes the idea in depth: Expand the World Series to nine games, with two of the 1st nine games in presumably neutral grounds and warm-weather cities to enhance the stature of the game. This will give high-profile business types yet another glory-hole to suck-off their high level clientele.

First off, this plan is complete and total lunacy. Baseball is supposedly already planning on extending the playoff format to seven-game series in the division and championship series. Throw in an extra two games in a warm weather city will push World Series games deeper into November, which will make fantastic television when the Red Sox, Yankees, Cubs, (and if God is kind) the White Sox and O’s will be playing in the snow. Second thing, unless the games are played in outer-space, can there really be a neutral ground in baseball? A site like Florida has the Marlins and future powerhouse D-Rays, Texas has the Rangers, and even though no one in California takes baseball seriously, it’s still got three five teams in state. If the Braves play the Tigers in Miami, who is going to have more fans in attendance—the team that plays a few hundred miles away, or a team that plays in the city that’s the US equivalent of Port-au-Prince?

Believed to be your average Haitian.
And do you know what’s worse outside of this general insanity? It’s that the doddering old nincompoop Bud Selig is actually taking the time to humor him. In case everyone didn’t already know, the labor-vs.-management struggle that in many ways has been the history of professional baseball, makes the mass genocide between the Hutus and the Tutsis look like a skirmish between the Hatfields and the McCoys by comparison. This is the guy who has been drastically driving up the price of free agents for years, now has the ear of the principal negotiator for ownership? Bart Giamatti would be rolling in his grave.

Maybe Boras has his motives. Maybe he thinks that by expanding the stature of the Series it’ll make baseball more popular, his players higher in demand, and ere go, himself more rich. Maybe by playing a game always in Florida, teams can just transport a 600 pound (and by that time, client) Miguel Cabrera via semi-truck instead of a much more dangerous private jet. That’s an Aalyiah tragedy waiting to happen. But more realistically, Boras is smoking crack. Tina Turner said that crack was for poor people, but is there really any other explanation, here? Crack makes the mind feel crazy things—paranoia, mania, and fanatically greedy. All these were in play when he came up with this blasphemous idea. Lay off the crack Scotty, and our game will be just fine.

"Remember kids, don't smoke crack."

UPDATE: There are five California baseball teams: LA, San Fran, Anahiem, San Diego, and Oakland/Freemont. Thanks to Ben, Rob I., and the people who e-mailed.

White Sox Fans-- Your Season is Over

After getting swept by the hapless Cubs, reports are beginning to surface that a fire sale is now being planned for the Chicago White Sox that’ll make the Reds yearly reach-around look like the Mulder-Haren trade, as yet another season ends in ignominious failure. While some bastions of support still exist (generally within the prison population of Illinois) it’s understood that when your club is only a game and a half up on the Kansas City Royals, it’s time to give up the ship. This is a welcome development for most baseball fans, because despite winning a World Series in 2005, the Southsiders haven’t exactly become America’s team.

Outside of Internet phenom Jim Thome and the ever entertaining Ozzie Guillen, there isn’t a lot to like with this brand of White Sox. Ever since Jose Contreras was reunited with his family and was placed in a lower-pressure environment, the guy lost a lot of his good story and drawing power. Any team that values Scott Podsednik can’t be taken seriously, and the media blow-ups the team’s General Manager has with past players leave a bad taste in viewers’ mouths, since the world will remember Frank Thomas long after Kenny Williams is dead. Injuries abound with the 2007 club, and while almost none of it could have been planned or corrected, these kinds of things don’t happen to the Dallas Cowboys of the world. Unless of course you’re Michael Irvin.

This one goes out to Lt. Winslow.
The fact is, outside of a banner World Series victory in recent memory, the White Sox are probably one of the most wretched franchises that’s ever graced the national pastime. Before an 88 year championship drought was extinguished, they were even more pathetic than the Red Sox, but with far worse press coverage. Really, outside of providing misery for their own followers and fodder for the fans of other teams, the most notable thing about the CHW’s were those uniforms with the shorts, which were also some of the historically bad variety. Just like Rutgers football really has no place in the pantheon of great college teams, the White Sox don’t probably belong in the list of great teams and perennial contenders along with the Yankees, Red Sox, Cardinals, A’s, and Dodgers. Ere go, this team was doomed from the start—it was written in the stars.

Now, does this mean things can’t get better? In a macro sense, yes. But good trades of essentially the entire team could put the White Sox in prime position to repeat some semblance of their 2005 success, provided the Twins, Indians, Tigers, and Royals, all get progressively worse as the years go by, and that has a pretty good chance of happening, right?

…………NOT!!

It’s time to revel in glorious schadenfreude, and outside of watching (VaJay)Jay Mariotti poking White Sox fans with a stick through his gilded cage, the greatest thing about the early demise of the White Sox are the wailings of the insidious Ken “the Hawk” Harrelson. If you are a person who believes in “goodness” and “truth” then Harrelson is almost certainly the Joesph Goebbels of a Major League Baseball organization. Not only during his announcing is he out-and-out rooting for the Southsiders, he tells outright lies to keep the fans entertained. Seeing Iraqi Information Minister Harrelson do the play-by-play for one of the league’s worst teams will bring delight to the millions of viewers who can actually see WGN.

Congratulations to the 2007 Chicago White Sox. For about the first month of the season, you guys hung in there pretty well. Unforunately, this would not be the case throughout the rest of the baseball year. The new rallying cry of your team will now be “Let’s not be worse than the Royals.” It’s an accomplishable goal, I think. Probably more so than winning another World Series this century, anyway.

“He Gone.” And by this I mean “traded.”

Your Favorite Yankee Prospect is Worthless

For those don’t already know, I am a big-time Yankee fan. Huge, even. It’s why when I see my fellow fans saying or doing things that mind-bendingly stupid, I cringe and woefully acknowledge that, yes, perhaps a large portion of Yankee fans really are the delusional imbeciles that everyone claims them to be. Therefore, when I see a idea or statement that is so righteous in its woeful stupidity, I take this task of bitch slapping all the offenders back to Africa with a distinct pleasure, similar to the way a pimp does when he slaps around his ho’. I realize that this might hurt a tad, but fear not, you’ll all be better people after this thrashing.

The number of offenses are legion, but the most glaring one is the obsession with a little-known relief specialist named Colter Bean. Bean, an Auburn Tiger and Yankees draftee, has spent almost his entire career in service to the Yankees minor league system. Poor measurables such as a having no fastball, no movement on said fastball, no secondary pitches worth mentioning, and no knowledge of how to pitch, had the organization down on him, for very good reasons. After getting annihilated while pitching in brief stints in the majors, Bean was sent back down to AAA, probably to serve out the rest of his wholly undistinguished career.

In pro-wrestling, Bean would be called a "jobber." Jobbers were paid not to be the star attraction, but generally to put work in, lose, and make everyone around them look better. The pitcher's numbers against poor competition are good, true, but to a team competing for a World Championship, Bean is a worthless commodity and should probably have been released years ago. In fact, I say that he's less than worthless, because his very presence takes a spot away from a player who might actually help the major league club somewhere along the line.

However, delusional Yankee fans still flock to this guy, and treat him like he actually might be one of the answers to Yankees myriad of bullpen woes. He's not. "Free Colter Bean!" they cry. A website was made in his honor, which answers the age-old question “Is there really anyone out there dumb enough to fall for a pyramid scheme?”


A Bean defender might say “You realize you are deeming him worthless after only seven innings in the majors, right?” No.

He's worthless because he throws 85 miles an hour.
He's worthless because he's got a career ERA of 9.00 and a WHIP that's nearly 2.500.
He's worthless because Joe Torre abuses his relievers like they are insolent wives, and even HE won't use him.
He's worthless because people who know more in their little finger than you, I, or anyone including the so-called Internet experts know about the game of base-ball say he's worthless.

He's worthless because he was put up for grabs to any major league team when he was put on waivers, and everyone passed on him. The Texas Rangers, who are scouting little-league parent-pitch baseball games for anything remotely resembling a live arm, passed on Colter Bean. Just as a special exercise, they even opened up the waiver process to Japan-- no takers. The Dominican Summer League? No takers. Remember that story about the new Israeli baseball team? That team they're building in Israel? Bean's surname was shortened from "Beanowitz" when his parents came over from Ellis Island. He's eligible to play. The Yankees offered him up on waivers… even THEY passed on him.

Did you know that they played baseball the Planet Vulcan? It's not exactly fun, because everyone can read each other's mind, so the hitter knows what's coming. Games end up being like 100-97. However, they lack the strength human beings possess to throw a baseball faster than 70 mph. Even the Vulcans passed on Colter Bean.

Google Image Search for "Vulcan Baseball."

The only thing Bean needs to be free from are his delusions that he's a major league player. Perhaps he's just trying to collect a paycheck, and his supporters are the ones that are delusional. Lucky for all of you, Mr. Slick, in all of his infinite wisdom, is relieving you all from such vision. I am hereby ending the career (if you can call it that) of Colter Bean. Yankee fans-- he is not a savior. Fans of other AL teams-- he will not come up again, so quit waiting around like little kids on Christmas morning.

Colter, if you're reading this, in that demented attempt at the intellectual pornography called Google-scanning, you are hereby anointed by the High Priest of the Church of Matsuzaka, to quit the Yankees, and go teach gym. Outside of perverse schadenfreude-ian comedic value, enjoyed only by people whose grip on sanity is tenuous at best, you will not be missed. Hallelujah, and Amen.

UPDATE: The owner of FreeColterBean.com has expressed his thoughts on Bean in the comment section. Suppress your laughter accordingly.

Performance Enhancing Trees

Note: This is not about drugs. Take your polluted mind elsewhere, hippy.


A joke a friend of mine sent me made me think of something profound. It is as follows:

Two tall trees, a birch and a beech, are growing in the woods. A small tree begins to grow between them, and the beech says to the birch, "Is that a son of a beech or a son of a birch?" The birch says he cannot tell. Just then a woodpecker lands on the sapling. The birch says, "Woodpecker, you are a tree expert. Can you tell if that is a son of a beech or a son of a birch?"

The woodpecker takes a taste of the small tree. He replies, "It is neither a son of a beech nor a son of a birch. It is, however, the best piece of ash I have ever put my pecker in."

See, this is one of those kinds of jokes that your grandmother e-mails you assuming (a) She’s Alive (b) She’s lucid enough to actually use e-mail or (c) She wants to show that for an octogenarian she’s still “hip” and “with it” and send you sexy jokes. Naturally, because of the source, this make you think of “SEX” and “GRANDMA” in your mind VERY EXPLICITLY and generally makes you want to take a soldering iron to your eyes and acid to your face. Regardless, it helped me to come up with something profound.

Not even remotely sexy.
The stuff they can do with technology and genetic engineering is crazy these days, and baseball is a multi-billion dollar industry that is always seeking to increase any edge their players can use within the limits of the game. Why not have an enterprising team genetically engineer trees to make the wood that they produce, like, super wood? I’m talking wood that is so hard and light it’s like carrying a metal bat in your hand, but it’s made of wood.

So how is this done? I’m not a scientist, exactly, but I think magic might have something to do with it. Or injecting steroids into seeds and planting them with radioactive fertilizer. But come on. I think the Boston Red Sox need to do this, and if at all possible, do it immediately. Why?

Homer made Tomacco the exact same way.
1. Boston’s proximity to some of the world’s finest academic institutions can allow them put pressure on the scientists who can actually pull this off. And by “pressure” I mean, holding the geeks off a balcony like it’s Shug Knight vs. Vanilla Ice all over again.

2. Boston’s proximity to the great forests of Vermont, New Hampshire, and Southern Canada (also known in some areas as “Maine”) give it plenty of testing ground, as well as the element of secrecy. Whitey Bulger has been hiding out in these areas for years, and if they can’t find him, a few glowing trees with spring-like leaves won’t freak out any locals. At least not any who aren’t already whacked out on maple-moonshine.


3. Larry Luchino’s dollars make Boss George look like Boss Hog in comparison. This is high-end genetic engineering, here, and will be very, very expensive. Paying the scientists and buying fissile material aside, bribes will be made, and people need to be silenced. Imagine if during the test phase, one of these bats comes alive and eats Julio Lugo? Someone’s going to have to buy off his family. Then again, the way Lugo is hitting this might actually be an improvement. Don't forget they’d have to build their own lumber yard to actually make these bats as well.

And besides, is there any other team that needs to satiate such a rabid fan base? Red Sox Nation (and I use the term very lightly, if they are a nation, it’s probably one like Haiti) reminds me of an impersonal Japanese corporation. Remember back in the 80’s, and we heard all these stories about Japanese employees who were so fantastically devoted to their companies that they would run around the office, come in on weekends, and ignore their families? The only difference is the employee gets paid, while a member of Red Sox Nation actually pays the Sox to belong. This new performance enhancing wood will provide historic levels of offense, and is the one way to actually fulfill the completely unrealistic expectations of the pizza-throwing lunatics that call themselves fans. The new wood would even let the Red Sox franchise catch up to the Yankees, at least in terms of championships. Because believe me, it’s not going to happen any other way, and that is no joke.

Leo Mazzone Didn’t Help Much, Did He?

Executive Vice President Mike Flanagan terminated Orioles manager Sam Perlozzo on Monday, thus effectively ending a baseball career that has notable only by being hilariously entrenched in ignominious failure. Perlozzo, it seems, brought only two things to the table as O’s manager: Being almost entirely bereft of tactical baseball know-how, and having pitching scion Leo Mazzone be his best friend. In fact, some people with no familiarity with the situation whatsoever claim that Perlozzo was hired solely to recruit the venerable pitching coach that was thought to be the architect of the Atlanta Braves fourteen year NL East dynasty, and was perceived at one time to be the finest assistant coach in all of professional baseball.

Some of you might forget, but there was an out-and-out scrum for Mazzone’s services when he chose not to renew his contract with the Braves. Stat-geeks (and I use it as a term of endearment) wrote formulas on how the coach would help any staff he went to. Sports pundits across the nation offered their opinion on why their hometown nine should splurge on Mazzone. Brian Cashman offered to fellate him, and Theo Epstien actually did. Regardless, Mazzone, in the ultimate “I’m Keith Hernandez” moment, ended up taking the O’s job, and proceeded to accomplish nearly nothing of note, making him equal to almost every pitching coach in the major leagues.

If you were John Smoltz this would be a lot easier.

Take a look at the 2006 Orioles pitching performance. This thing is basically the statistical baseball equivalent of a triage unit in a war zone, or every other day in Detroit. From the "sundry guys" listed, I counted one ERA under five, and that’s not counting the rounded-up Kurt Birkins. The 2007 squad looks only marginally better, with general regressions from former pitching prodigies Chris Ray, Daniel Cabrera, Danys Baez. We'll have to wait until the end of the season to know for sure, but the only player who has markedly improved is staff ace Erik Bedard, who is the 2nd coming of Mike Mussina in terms of both performance and future payday with the Yankees.

Look on the bright side... they could have got Manny.

Now, it is possible that things were so bad in “Balmer” that Mazzone’s presence was the only thing from letting the entire situation turn into total chaos. But that’s the kind of flawed thinking that got generally reasonable people thanking their lucky stars for LeBron James after the NBA finals had the worst TV ratings in their history. Are we supposed to be so naïve to believe that after years of taking the pitching dregs of the world and turning them into effective starters and relievers, Leo-Maz lost the magic touch? Hardly. The fact is, Mazzone had the good fortune of having three 1st ballot Hall of Fame pitchers play for the Braves, and their presence just so happened to coincide directly with his own tenure as pitching coach starting in 1991. The shrewd acquisitions Jon Schuerholz made, and the wise bullpen usage from Bobby Cox resulted in pitchers having an Atlanta resurgence, not some helpful tidbits from a rocking so-called sage. Giving pitching coaches in general that kind of pull is the kind of madness that lets guys like Rick Peterson make outrageous statements like “I can fix Victor Zambrano in an hour.”

If this picture doesn’t make you smile, you don’t have a soul.

Since the only reason the vaunted coach ever came to the O’s at all was because of Perlozzo, Mazzone will probably ask to be released at the end of this year, as this current incarnation of the Orioles is almost undoubtedly his Vietnam. Then the next Brett Favre/Roger Clemens-style attention fest will begin anew, maybe with your own hometown scribe giving the coach a mulligan. It is the O's after all. Just be sure to remember that just because a team has a great rotation, it doesn't mean there was a great pitching coach behind it. As for Leo-- next time watch who your friends are, buddy. You used to have a good reputation.

Cult of Matsuzaka (FotZ): Motown No Mo'!!

This just in-- Matsuzaka nukes... D-Troit City motha-what!!

Out of all the places in the western hemisphere, only Mexico City rivals Detroit in corruption, poverty, decay, and predilection for violent takeover and revolution. The city is generally perceived as an urban war zone, not unlike post-liberation Iraq, except the denizens of Rock City are on a whole better armed.

The following has caused much destruction in Detroit:

Pre-crackdown Devil’s Night*
OCP’s takeover of the city and the creation of the ED-209
The Shady Records-Murder Inc. rap war

What's not pictured is the shooting of the firemen
None of this has ever reached the amount of destruction from the divine wrath of Matsuzaka. Want to see the body count? Nine inning complete game. Five strikeouts, and a homerun allowed to Curtis Granderson, who through his outstanding blogging, has been seen as a favored son to the fellowship of the ZAK. To see a comparison, Moses was also favored in the eyes of Matsuzaka. Also, don't let JERKOFF YANKEE FANS tell you that Detorit can't really hit, and that there are a few more months in the season, because that's a load of crap, and they are delusional.

Rarely is there anything that can stop the pan-dimensional human embodiment of divinity and the space-time continuum, and there was nothing that could stop Matsuzaka today. Not the armies running the streets of Detroit at night, not the zombified octopi who hurl themselves at Red Wings games, not the guy who threw that drink at Ron Artest, and not even the combined forces of the 313 and the free world bitches (with the help of/special guest appearance by Joel Zumaya on Guitar Hero). In fact, if you went underneath the mansion of Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick and found Robocop, and re-activated him, not even he would stand against the righteous justice that is Matsuzaka.

So where does Detroit go from here? I say nowhere. Now that the city has been obliterated, it’s obvious that it’s time to move on and rebuild. The Tigers will have to forfit the rest of their games, and the citizens will be looking elsewhere for salvation. Luckily for them, the Cult of Matsuzaka (FotZ) will be giving out free stress tests and copies of our bible at the blast’s epicenter, consequently smack dab in the middle of where the old stadium used to be. Those who haven't had their skin melt off yet can enjoy that, as well as a complimentary choice of beverage. And no, morons, sake won’t be served, because that’s just racist. Also, if you choose not to come, I heard Flint, MI is always eager for another round of destruction.

I think this is necessary

*This is a fantastic website.
**As is this.

Wells and Brothers Giles Eat Midget

According to Padres’ beat writer Corey Brock (via The FanHouse), Emmanuel Lewis was spotted in the Padre’s visiting clubhouse after their game with the Braves on Monday. Lewis, known most notably for his role in Webster and the Surreal Life series on VH1, is a scion to little people the world over for helping them earn the respect and dignity not seen during the dark times in history when they were used as plane movers and drink tables. Apparently Lewis was laughing hard after being tickled by Brian Giles, who may or may not have been wearing clothes at the time. According to sources close to me, the Giles v Giles are naked all the time, so the beat men don’t even record it, while Mike Penner looks on with permanent confusion.

Do you guys REALLY think this is degrading?
The Pads are a hilarious franchise, intentionally or unintentionally so depending on perspective. Greg Maddux pees on rookies. The Giles brothers have a partiality towards nudity and bad jokes. David Wells is the John Daly of professional baseball*, except he consumes even more drugs, food, and booze, if that’s even possible. Let’s not get into the whole “Steve Garvey Is Not My Padre” fiasco. But now if you throw a midget in the mix, even one as prominent as Manny Lewis, then you’ve got the clubhouse of legends. While the LA Dodgers might be nicknamed “Red Sox West” by people too interested in both the Red Sox and the West, it seems like the Daddies are actually following the mantra:

Fat veteran secretly despised by the media = Boomer
Guys who get naked and rub their cocks all over each other/everything = Brothers Giles
Midget = Lewis

That being said, is there anything more potentially dangerous than David Wells, the Giles brothers, and Emmanuel Lewis together in the same place, in any circumstances? Rumor has it happening that night, and the results were tragic. Only the four of them were at Magic City in the A-T-L--Maddux needed to hydrate, Peavy was still striking people out, and Kevin Kouzmanoff was having PacBell install the Mendoza line in his house.


Anyway, every person who goes to a strip club tries their own kind of mojo out on the ladies. Ballplayers are no exception. Boomer was screaming at the DJ trying to get the girls to dance to Muscadine while taking out his fake teeth and showing them off, resulting in general disgust. Emmanuel Lewis was telling the girls that even though he is a “little person,” (his words, not mine) his penis is still a larger than average size. Meanwhile, Brian Giles was working his own kind of mojo:

Stripper: You wanna dance, baby?

Giles: Let me tell you a joke.

Stripper: Oh-kaayyy

Giles: Ok, why is six afraid of seven?

Stripper: Cause seven-ate-nine!

Giles: (overly excited) Wow! You got it!

Stripper: Yea! My three kids at home tell that joke all the time.

Giles: ...Ak-warrrrrd.

Eventually, things descended into madness. Because of general weirdness and the midget getting grabby, none of the women would go up in VIP. Out of boredom, Brian and Marcus took their pants off and start simultaneously cock-whipping Manny Lewis, who probably enjoyed it too much. Boomer was so blasted off Cuervo and painkillers that he thought it was some kind of perverse tenderization ritual, and they were all going to try and eat the little fucker. So Boom grabbed him up like a big toothless bear, and ran out the club cackling like a maniac. Giles-squared tired running after him, but fell down the stairs since their pants were around their ankles. By the time they got back to the hotel, Lewis was already half eaten.

Some of this story may be true… I’m simply operating off hearsay and my own insanity. Regardless, no one will ever see Emmanuel Lewis again, and without their magical clubhouse chemistry, the Daddies are not a lock to make it to the World Series.



*Or is it John Daly is the David Wells of golf?

The Brewers are Doomed

Surprise, bitches. After what can liberally be called the 1st half of the season, the Milwaukee Brewers are atop their division for first time since Micheal Jackson was black. The Brewers’ history since then has been one of ignominious failure, losing most of their games with remarkable frequency. They’ve come around of late, due to some deals that have made the 2003 Curt Schilling hose job look like No! No! Nanette*, and the rest of the division (read: Cardinals! Cardinals! Cardinals!) being the poster children for organizational dysfunction.

This is sort of cute, because the Brewers really barely even qualify as a major league franchise. They play in the National League, which in some eras has been grounds for contraction. Their mascots are on par with most minor league teams, the slide is beyond kitschy, and has any prominent recent major leaguer even been the best player on the Brewers? Richie Sexon doesn’t count, and Roy Oswalt is better. Also, do we need to even get into the Mr. 3000 debacle? No other team would be comfortable being associated with such a travesty, but the Brewers felt right at home. The entire back story for the movie was that the Brewers were even historically bad, and they still said “ok?” Anything for publicity, right Uncle Bud?

At least it was better than Pride
Such a joke of a franchise can’t possibly be successful for this long, so naturally they’re doomed. Ben Sheets is bound to get re-injured sooner or later. Rickie Weeks, the second coming of Gary Sheffield, is going to start airmailing throws over 1st in no time. Eventually their players will become old enough to drink and all hell will break loose, with a sex boat cruise that makes the 2005 Minnesota Vikings look like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in comparison. This is so obvious, it’s barely even a story.

Immerse yourselves in the waters of Lake Minnetonka

The real story will be what Bud Selig will do when the Brewers begin to falter. Will there be instant Vince Mcmahon-style rule changes? Sausage races counting as runs?** The infield fly rule extending to the 1st and 3rd base crowds? Sending in Bill Alphonso as the special guest umpire? The question is not will this happen (it must) but how hilarious will it be? Selig has always struck me as a feckless, doddering old coot, whose dealings with the steroids controversy reminds one of the Iran hostage scandal, but with far more disastrous global consequences. Bud should get his Vince on-- it’s not like his legacy can get any worse. All things considered, it’ll probably end up saving (at least in terms of entertainment) what will eventually become yet another lost season for the Brew-Crew.



*Nice job on that one, Joe Garagiola. It only cost you your reputation and career.
** This will, of course, have either the Pirates or Cubs re-sign Randall Simon. But considering the direction of those teams at this point it’s probably to be expected.

UPDATE: No comment from the peanut gallery?

Cult of Matsuzaka (FotZ): Heresy in Boston!!

Julio Lugo... I’m not angry at you. I’m just not angry at you. There is no punch line here, this is not a joke, I’m not going to go and say that I’m FURIOUS... AT YOU... because I’m not, I’m not, I’m just not. Because I... I understand the position that you have been put in to, by your acquisition to the Boston Red Sox, the chosen team of our savior, Daisuke Matsuzaka (pbuh)*. I’m sure you realize on some celestial level conveyed to you, by Matsuzaka, that He is a pan-dimensional cosmic entity and the fact that you would even set foot on the same filed as Him, even for an inning, will fill the rest of your days with the bliss and peace that cannot even nearly be described in any language invented by humanity. This knowledge, combined with this righteous force of the most wonderful and raw comic energy swirling around you like a glorious typhoon, I’m sure it is a bit daunting, and I grant you that, and I understand.

But even then, Julio, you cannot ALLOW two

GODDAMN ERRORS in the same

GODDAMN

INNING!!!**


Threre is a strategy here, ok? There is a freakin'. strategy. right. here. Your job is not to simply beat the competition, ok? It is your job, and Matsuzaka’s, to grind their freakin' bones into toothpaste. Toothpaste with little red ribbons in it, just like AquaFresh. Do you know why the ribbons in this toothpaste are red, Julio? Because they’re filled with bone marrow, and DNA, and I don’t know what else, I’m a theologian, not a medical doctor, but that’s what you gotta do. The toothpaste, it might taste like Tom’s of Maine, all chalky, but you’re not there to make a good tasting toothpaste out of bone, because that would be impossible.


Matsuzaka’s plan is to intentionally load those bases. Intentionally walk those hitters, and load those bases, ok? And then when He gets those hitters out, they realize they simply have no chance against Him. Once the mind game is won, the physical game is easy, and the spiritual game can commence. Those errors of your not only screwed your team, they fucked Matsuzaka, and they might have screwed over the immortal souls of those players and the millions watching around the world.

Now, Julio, you recovered for yourself quite nicely. You had a ground-rule double right after your errors, you played well in the field, you accounted for yourself and your team quite nicely, and you deserve all the credit in the world for that. Perhaps Matsuzaka was testing you, as He tests me, to see if you could recover from this. You did, congratulations, la-dee-freaking-da. Do you know that there are those of us who flagellate ourselves daily out of gratitude just so we can watch Matsuzaka? That we put off our wives, our lives, our children, to hang on every glorious pitch He throws, because that is what will teach us about salvation? He forgives you, so do I, just be better next time, or we will not be so forgiving.

Is this not the face of intimidation?
BTW, everyone, don’t listen to DICKHEAD YANKEE FANS who think that giving up 7 ER somehow prevents the Messiah from being worth 100m dollars before He ever threw a pitch in the major leagues, because they’re freaking jealous liars! My inbox is filling up with this same thing, over and over again, people denegrating the Fellowship of the ZAK, insulting our Emmanuel, and I don’t want to hear it! Here's one:

Slick,

How does it feel to see Matsuzaka give up 7 ER to the fucking Mariners, pussy boy? Enjoy the next five days, you cultist whacko.

Love always,


Jesus

PS—Go Yanks!

grraaaaahhhhhh!!!fsddddddjhvc!!


*I don’t need to keep on typing this, you get the picture.
**The apostate official scorer, probably some college-level nimrod who wanted to get a job with the "Sawx" changed the 2nd error to a hit after the game. Obvious, total, crap. Check the play-by-play.

The Five Fabulous Weeks of the Marty Miller Program*

Marty Miller, Director of Performance Enhancement for the New York Yankees, has been summarily relieved of his duties following the most number of injures on his watch to a platoon of men ever not directly involved in lethal and armed combat. The Yankees first hired Miller out of BallenIsles Country Club in Palm Beach, Florida, which is appropriate, considering the team is made up of a bunch of geriatrics. But having a “czar” of performance enhancement was a ridiculous notion before it was even conceived, making it one of baseball’s few (but glaring) pre-emptive failures.** And why is it thus? Let us count the ways!

First off, you can’t possibly trust anyone who goes by their nickname on their business card. It shows an outrageous lack of civility, and stretches the boundaries of good taste. He went by “Marty?” Are you going to put that on the top of your letterhead? What the heck is that? Before you know it, good and decent professionals will be calling themselves “Will” instead of “William” in a business setting. Dogs and cats, living together, mass hysteria.

Never drive angry.
Second thing-- Director of “Performance Enhancement?” Do you see those quotes? I think Jason Giambi’s performance has been enhanced quite enough over the years, don’t you? I mean, his comeback from 2003 was basically the stuff of miracles, and proof to everyone either the benefits of a clean lifestyle or better living through chemicals. Not to mention getting the Sheff out of the kitchen don’t make it less hot, baby.

Might be the greatest picture in the history of the Internet, right here.
And speaking of stretching, apparently Miller wasn’t interested in it. Now, I’m not expert in the philosophies involved in allowing world-class athletes to reach their potential, but hasn’t stretching been in basically every single self-fitness guide since the times of Teddy Atlas? Are we trying to go beyond the paradigm here? Is stretching too “new wave” for you, Marty?

Let’s Survey the Damage:

Johnny Damon—Hamstring problems that persist to this day.
Mike Mussina—Injured for a month.
Chien-Ming Wang—Injured for slightly less than a month.
Hideki Matsui—Injured, and just recently returned.
Jeff Karstens—Injured hamstring, out to start the season.
Phil Hughes—Injured for 8-10 weeks, might be back in time for the All-Star game.

According to some sources, Brian Cashman had a “sleepless night” when trying to decide whether or not Miller should be fired, which makes the independent observer wonder which inmates exactly are running the asylum that is the Bronx Zoo circa 2007. That list seen above? That’s not a disabled list, that’s a hit list. You couldn’t send a sleeper cell into an enemy locker room and cause that much destruction.

“Marty” has been the worst trainer for a baseball franchise since the Greg Anderson fiasco, and that guy is in jail. It appears to me that Miller got off easy. Don't forget to tell the folks back in BallenIsles to stretch, Marty, and don't pretend that you and "Jetes" are friends-- he probably hates you.

This will be your house of pain.

*C'mon. You guys gotta know know where this is from.
**Others being the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, The All-Star game counting, and actually recognizing David Ortiz as a 1B all come to mind.

Danny Almonte, New York Baseball Legend

This was supposed to be a post about the outrage of the New York City government banning metal baseball bats throughout the greater New York Metropolitan area. Assuming MLB doesn’t start paying for wooden bats for young/poor people to use (they won’t) baseball has all but conceded the NY-metro area to basketball and lacrosse. I’ve said my piece on this. New York will probably never produce great players such as Manny Ramirez, Sandy Koufax, or Danny Almonte ever again.

Also, you might think Danny Almonte doesn’t belong in that list of New York baseball legends, but you would be wrong. Fantastically, horrifically, wrong. So what if he did most all his damage against kids half his own age*? That’s not like it stops Orlando Hernandez, and that guy’s at least 60.


For those of you too young, too divested, or too A.D.D. to remember, Danny Almonte was the ace left-hander for the Rolando Paulino All-Stars. Outside of having the most egomaniacal team name in the history of organized sports, and no one on the team being able to speak English, this plucky band played on the outskits of Yankee Stadium which, natually, endeared them to the entire country. When the tournament came around, Almonte was already a phenom, having embarassed opposing teams in regional tournaments across the northeast. Armed with a 75 mph fastball (or roughly half the speed of sound** on a little league mound), a Randy Johnson-esque slider, and the intimidation factor of a man-child who has started masturbating more frequently and not solely experimentation purposes, Almonte annihilated the competition.

The secret to his slider? Hairy palms.
He finished with a freakish stat line of 3 GS, 27IP, 46K, 3 H, 1 R, 0 ER. If that isn't the stuff of legends, then you show me what is. So what if Almonte was at the very least two years older than his competition? And speaking of NYC public school districts, who cares if Almonte didn’t even go to school? It's not like he would have learned anything anyway. I don’t care who you are, if you strike out more guys than Carl Pavano has pitched to in the past two years, you are officially gangsta. If Corey Lidle was still alive, could he put up a stat line like that? I don’t think so.

Regardless of anything remotely sane, by now we should know that age limits don’t mean a thing when it comes to baseball. Albert Pujols has the hairline of a 35 year old. We already mentioned El Duque. Julio Franco helped build the ark. Jessie Orosco is in the majors somewhere, isn’t he? In the Dominican Republic and Cuba, players routinely lie about being younger to seem like better prospects. The only mistake Almonte made was that he lied in the wrong direction. It didn't stop him from marrying a 30 year old, that's for sure. If anything, all of this should only increase his legend status.

Nowadays, Danny Almonte is pitching in for the Frontier League Miners, his legend status witheld from him by a stupid tradition that holds things like "cheating" and "fraud" in disregard. This is wrong! Madness, even. For a stretch of time, Almonte was one of the best young pitchers on the planet. He deserves to be in the pantheon of great ballplayers coming out of the New York area. Let's just hope in light of the new ban that he's not the last.



*Take a look at the old school ESPN site!

You’ve come a long way, baby! Now with obnoxious video.

**Come on, we all need a little lameness in our lives.

Matsuzaka Nukes New York

This just in— Matsuzaka nukes... New York!!!

Ok, technically, the game was played in Boston, so the concept of Matsuzaka actually nuking a location a la Kansas City is entirely existential. Regardless, disciples in the fellowship of the ZAK, it is with great honor and joy that I report to you that our savior, the anointed Daisuke Matsuzaka (pbuh), has thoroughly humiliated and destroyed with extreme prejudice the disgusting New York Yankees. Don’t let partisan Yankee fans tell you that Matsuzaka allowed six runs off New York’s B-team, because it is COMPELTELY UNTRUE, and Yankee fans are ********!!1!


They’re just jealous because Matsuzaka chose the Red Sox. You say Theo Epstien spent the money on Matsuzaka? That only proves your woeful ignorance. Who do you think gave him the inspiration of the divine cosmos you slack-jawed mutants?! Matsuzaka, that’s who. Anyone who willingly signed Byung-Hyun Kim to a long-term contract obviously can’t be trusted as the trumpeter of our new messiah.

Did Theo, like, see the 2001 World Series. Like, at all?

The six runs are irrelevant. They were actually blessings from Matsuzaka to the Yankee players. The home run he “allowed” to Jeter?* It was a holy boon, bequeathed to a player who is obviously struggling personally under the recent success of former BFF&E&E, Alex Rodriguez. Of course, Rodriguez’s hot streak was in and of itself a blessing from Matsuzaka, so that He can look even more impressive in His annihilation of Rodriguez. Such a streak can only be accomplished with personal imbuement from the awesome cosmic and divine power our savior. The annihilation foretold in the book of ZAK? Two fucking strikeouts. And one hit by pitch, for impiety and impudence. The pitch did not vaporize A-Rod out of existence because Matsuzaka chose to take a little off. Matsuzaka forgives. That’s why He’s our Emmanuel.

Iddqd!!
Matsuzaka sucked the cosmic force right out of A-Rod’s bones, which is why he failed to succeed against Matsuzaka, and why he failed to win the game when the opportunity presented itself. Will A-Rod be given the power back? Will the faithful be rewarded? How about you don’t ask so many questions. How about you get on your KNEES in WORSHIP! I don’t see you worshipping!! Every single day Matsuzaka allows us to see Him pitch is masterful and glorious. I get up in the morning because of Him. I stay awake PREACHING the GOSPEL, because of Him. And all of you in your sinfulness, in your misdirected lives, spending your days idling, drinking beer, and eating potatoes--all you can say in forgiveness for this performance is “Wicked Pissah” and “Go Sawx”?? You’re all sheep.

One day, He will return to the Terrasect, the pan-dimensional planes of existence, and sit at the right hand of all that has been created in the universe. He has chosen us, dear followers, to revel is all that is His being, and feel the energy of righteous justice coursing through our life-force. If you don’t perceive that as a great and beautiful thing, then you don’t deserve Him. I mean, truly, none of us do, but especially not you. Iddqd!.


*Quotation marks are perhaps inappropriate in this instance. In the traditional pitching sense, allowing runs is a negative thing. However, Matsuzaka quite literally “allowed” this home run. He telegraphed the pitch via cosmic telepathy, and gave to Jeter the strength to send it over the wall. So this is not actually a bad thing.

Torii Hunter called the N-word in Boston

I’m a big fan of Torii Hunter. He named the 2003-2005 Minnesota outfield the Soul Patrol*. Earlier in the decade he said that he would like to play for the Yankees. (I can’t find the quote, but I remember it being true). And his most recent column on Jackie Robinson speaks volumes about his character and his knowledge of the game of baseball. What really stood out for me in the piece was this little tidbit:

For the past 10 years, I've been called the N-word, like, 20 times. Not in Minnesota. In Kansas City. In Boston.

Now, this isn’t surprising. What is surprising was that he actually would come out and say it. In my experience, Boston is one of the most racist towns I’ve ever set foot in. Every single minority person I’ve ever spoken to has expressed discomfort by simply being in Boston. Barry Bonds, who would turn his back on God himself for fame and the almighty dollar, said that “Boston is too racist for me” and “I couldn’t play there.” (Source) But when you tell someone from the commonwealth (what mouth breathers from Beantown and parts beyond call Massachusetts) that Boston is a racist town, they either vehemently deny it, or chuckle out of appreciation. I wish this weren't the case.



Racial strife in Kansas City is practically assumed. Any city that’s located in two states across a river is bound to have some inherent tension. But you would think that having far and away the highest ticket prices in all of baseball would keep the riff-raff out of Fenway Park, you’re wrong. Otherwise one of the great players in baseball wouldn’t be called racial epithets that we’d think Boston got over in the 70’s. Apparently they haven’t.

Faneuil Hall riots. Look it up.**

*When you do a google image search for “Soul Patrol” this guy comes up. Weird.
**When you do a google image search for "Boston Racists" the old Deadspin Matsuzaka post comes up with the picture I just used above. Cool! I'm not sure Buster Olney ever got enough credit for that scoop, by the way.

What Hath God Wrought?

This just in— Matsuzaka nukes Kansas… City!!!

Now, you might be saying “hey, Zach Grenkie just K’ed 7 better hitters on a better team,” or “maybe there is something to hitters struggling against guys they haven’t seen before.” Complete, utter, nonsense. This is no time for SENSE, this is time for NON-SENSE! Hyperbole, even. Not only is Matsuzaka the best pitcher in the league, he’s the best pitcher in the galaxy. All you aliens playing baseball on Talos IV—you’re all completely screwed.


iddqd!!

The biggest Japanese import since Nintendo, Pokemon, Yu-gi-oh, has started his tour of destruction, and it’s coming to a city near you. Godzilla, his weakness lies in the strength of other monsters (and sliding catches). Matsuzaka? He has no weakness.

Matsui? 0-16 w/ 15K’s vs. Matsuzaka*

Are you not LISTENING?!! Are you not REALIZING the GRAVITY of WHAT WE’RE SEEING HERE?!! You’re lucky this entire post isn’t in capslock. This is greatness we’re witnessing right now. Pure greatness. Chuck Norris sees Matsuzaka pitch, and bows down in devout worship. Roger Clemens will now decide to pitch for the Red Sox, because he feels he can learn a thing or two from Matsuzaka. If Walter Johnson was alive right now, he’d walk up to Matsuzaka and ask to massage him, if only for pederastical purposes.** The hitters of the MLB are basically doomed, teams across the AL and NL are conceding victory to the Red Sox, Skynet/Google have stopped their world takeover, and all because Matsuzaka will eventually defeat them no matter how many terminators they send after him. Everyone stop watching baseball—the Matsuzaka era is upon us, and he will never, ever lose.

As an offering to this new God (despite Easter being right around the corner, I did just use a big “G”) I propose we continuously play the opening theme from “Saint Seiya” in it’s entirety during each of Matsuzaka’s starts. While driving us all slowly insane, this can only please him, and that is good.

80’s rock? Japanese Cartoons? Madness? Welcome to OntheShow.

*No idea if this is true. But it must be!!
**Or he’d be clawing at his coffin saying HELP!!! Btw, I’m not sure “pederastical” is even a word. Therefore, I’m making it one.