The Brewers Are Still Doomed

Have you ever eaten a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup while sitting on the toilet? It’s an interesting experience to say the least. The sweet, chocolate, peanut-buttery taste caresses your taste buds in their succulent awesomeness, but because of the look of the candy and the place you’re sitting, the thought never leaves your mind that “Oh my God, I think I'm eating a giant sample of stool!” That’s basically how I feel about the 2007 Milwaukee Brewers. It might look and taste good, but after thinking about it, things go downhill pretty quickly.

The positives about these guys are the platitudes: “They play the game the right way,” “they have a lot of youth and enthusiasm,” “the game comes easy to them,” etc. Have you ever actually looked at the way their lineup is constructed? The starting pitching is not that great, and wunderkind Ben Sheets is still an injury waiting to happen. After one more ten strikeout game his arm is bound to explode. Ace-closer Francisco Cordero has been among the NL’s best this season, but this is the player who made a Howard Hughes style meltdown in Texas look like cold feet before marriage. Before you know it, the guy will be blowing saves, throwing up like Willie Beaman in the bullpen before games, and keeping his urine in plastic bags.

"It’s the wave of the future"
The hitting is not much better. JJ Hardy has been playing over his head for a while now, and is due for a regression. Do you really thing he’s going to hit 35 HR’s, and have a slugging percentage around .500? There is no chance the 2nd coming of Alex Rodriguez could play in Milwaukee-- it’s seriously not possible. Besides, the guy is basically the Brady Quinn of professional baseball. Is this the kind of dude you’d really want your team to rely on down the stretch? And speaking of “stretching,” “closing windows”, and JJ Hardy, let’s just say that the one in the upper-deck isn’t the only chute that Bernie Brewer is sliding around in.

“Oh my God you guys, I think I’m getting a clue!”
And speaking of horrific regressions, how about 3B, SS and OF Bill Hall? It seems like last year was the serious aberration, and this season is indicative what Hall can do. This guy’s strikeouts make Mike Cameron look like Tony Gwynn, except thinner and not nearly as black. Not to mention that by the time Hall is finished getting worse, the guy’ll be playing in AAA, and will have by that time committed a fantasy baseball holocaust not even the owners of Andruw Jones have ever seen.

If these things happen (and the way things have gone for the Brewers and their fans, they must) then the team’s division rivals are bound to overtake them eventually. Although it’s generally not a good idea to count on the Cubs for anything other than national embarrassment, the 300 million dollar men are starting to come around as of late, and are only about four games back in the division standings. In addition, the computer projections have always like the Cards in this division, and if Albert Pujols makes up for the time that was lost earlier in the season, and the Rick Ankiel experience gives the team a Josh Hamilton-level boost, then the NL Central crown will be ripe for the picking.

Time to face the facts—the Brewers are doomed. The club right now is hanging by a thread, and is probably a Paris Hilton hookup away from all out implosion. They might have tasted pretty good at first, but all you’ve really been eating is a nice chunk of feces. It might have taken a little longer than I originally projected, but the season is over nonetheless. Enjoy watching the playoffs at home once again, gentlemen, and please watch where you eat.

Too weird not to post.

Adam Dunn Was A Bad Choice

Newsflash, America, the Reds are once again an awful, awful baseball team. When your club is so bad they can’t even compete in the drudgery that is the NL Central, then not only is it time to abandon ship, it’s time to start selling assets like you’re Ken Lay at a pre-crash Enron. Therefore, we all once again eagerly await one of the time-honored and favorite parts of the baseball season-- figuring out which silver-tongued GM is going to screw the Reds for the best players during this year?*

You see, despite the team being so wretched, there are still solid pieces playing for Cincinnati. However, one of them is not Adam Dunn. For some reason, people tend to think positively of an ox that hits almost exclusively in the most prolific hitters park west of Fenway. Because of this, ludicrous questions still persist in my area of the world such as: “Is Dunn is the answer to the New York Yankees continual 1st base needs?” The answer? NO!!


The local Fox affiliate here in New York has a thing they do nightly that says “It’s 10 PM, do you know where your children are?” Adam Dunn is similar, except “it’s 9:00 PM, do you know that Adam Dunn just struck out again?”

Have you ever seen a mentally challenged person eat something they're not supposed to? Like a wooden dowel or some paste? No one wants to say anything to correct them, because that would be impolite, and we are a compassionate society that frowns on gestures such as that. So instead all the people just stand there and stare, mouths agape, wondering what exactly caused God to favor some and not others. The MCP (not to be confused with OPP, the OCP, or WCC**) sees this attention, and instead of wondering "why the heck are these people staring at me," his face morphs into an ecstatic grin and starts clapping his hands with delight. According him or her, attention is good, no matter where it comes from. It's a similar feeling that comes from defecating oneself, or blogging, which in some quarters is precisely the same thing.


This is what Adam Dunn looks like when he's trying to field a ground ball hit to the 1st baseman. The ball bounces, Dunn does his little jerry-clap, the ball bounces off his chest, and in an ultimately futile effort to make a routine play for nearly all 60 starting 1B's in the MLB and AAA, he kicks the ball off into the 1st base dugout. Before you know it, Dontrelle Willis is cruising his way onto 3rd base, flashing gang signs, and calling himself Daisuke Mastublacka. Jason Giambi looks like Keith freaking Hernandez compared to Adam Dunn.

Did I forget to mention that Dunn is hitting a better-than-career-average .250 right now, and that his career OPS is only marginally better than the league average at his position? New York, or any team for that matter, would have to overpay drastically for a guy who is really not all that good.

So, a Dunn fan might say, why not put him at DH? Because New York already has six, the majority of them are injured, and the team doesn't need any more. Besides, I know we've all moved on from the concept of using batting average as the metric for player evaluation. But don’t you want someone who generally hits northward of the Mendoza line? Next thing you know, you'll be advocating for Andruw Jones, and that guy has the Mendoza line installed in his house.

Seriously, this is Andruw. Look at his numbers.

Dunn reminds me a little bit of that fictional player that appeared in the commercials for MLB '06 "The Show." Remember that ad campaign? Remember those commercials? He was a black dude was playing in Osaka, Japan. Here's essentially a direct quote from memory:

"People in Osaka don't care about hits, RBI's. They care about the long ball. I'm not a ball player, I'm an entertainer!!" The guy had an absurd stat line of like .196 AVG 32 HR 39 RBI. That's basically what we'll get with Adam Dunn. I'll ask any and all baseball teams to stay as far as bloody possible away from him, and that does double for the Yankees. If NY traded for Dunn, they would be the ones who are mentally challenged.

*My money’s on Ned Colletti. He’s like Jim Bowden, only dumber, and Bowden pulled off the mother of all hose jobs last year. You can’t even rip guys off like that in fantasy baseball.
**Also known as "Harvard on the Hudson.”

UPDATE: Here' the commercial I was refering to. The video isn't working for me for some reason-- you tell me if I got his statline right.

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?

Griffey Jr. out with a colon

Finding inspiration for writing can be hard. Your mind wonders, you hammer out sub-par columns, or you just plain-ol’ cruise the net. Sometimes, in those rare instances, you must act like Rousseau, and walk among the forests in the search for inspiration.*

This is not one of those times. Ken Griffey Jr. (as Al Micheals would say) is out with a colon.

Griffey confirmed that he was diagnosed about six months ago with diverticulitis, or inflammation of the colon.

There are just so many ways you can go with this! I don’t know about you, but when I’m confronted with a medical problem, I got to WebMD.com, just like any normal person. What do you think, I’m going to go to a “doctor”? A “shaman”? A “faith healer”? They all amount to modern quackery.** Besides, Tom Cruise told me that body thetans are making my soul hurt. Psychologists should be jailed. You’re just being glib.

Diverticulitis is a sometimes painful condition that develops when pouches diverticula that form in the wall of the colon, part of the large intestines become inflamed or infected.

Most of the time, diverticulitis can be treated with dietary changes and-if there is an infection-with antibiotics. About one-quarter of people with diverticulitis have complications, such as an abscess, fistula, or obstruction of the colon, that require surgery.

Wayyyy too easy. Way, way, way, too easy. Griffey, much like Mike Piazza, is one of few major league players one who is almost always questioned about his sexual orientation. Even though he’s married with kids, he just kind of looks gay. Like Kordell Stuart. Or Jeff Garcia. Or Mike Piazza. Now he has gay rumors and an inflammation of the colon? Let’s just say it’s probably going to start more flames than it’s going to put out. Is this “diverticulitis” contagious? Is it an STD? Should we check Brandon Phillips just to be sure? Or maybe Jason LaRue? He’s a catcher, after all, and this sort of thing can spread.

This sorry episode marks the end of Ken Griffey Jr.’s career. When you can’t play because you’ve hurt the muscle that’s attached to your anus, then I’m sorry, it’s time to hang up the spikes. He has now officially had every single injury a baseball player can have, outside of cancer and losing a testicle a la John Kruk. He’s broken hands, wrists, legs; he’s pulled hamstrings and quads; and now, he’s even injured his colon. This sort of thing should happen only to a couch potato who eats chicken friend steak daily, and is into sexual sado-masochism. Griffey is a professional athlete who makes Carl Pavano look like Cal Ripken Jr. If you think Barry Zito’s contract was bad, just take a look at Griffey’s. Albatross doesn't even quite define it. Call it a Spruce Goose, complete with total and utter failure. You’ve had a great run, Kenny, and you’ve provided people who watch baseball with a lot of laughs. Most of them generally at you as opposed to with you. But it’s time to retire. Take your ball and go home, that is, while you still have it.

Was the 1995 ALDS Griffey's Illmatic? I think it might have been.

*For more, consult the Reveries of the Solitary Walker. However, this book is quite wretched, and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

**Modern Quackery. This is a magazine that would sell itself.

I can't believe I put modern philosophy and ass jokes in the same post. It's like college did and did not happen at the same time.

Gimn Sovetskogo Soyuza*

Hello, Ryan. This is the MLBPA. It appears to us that you might have said something that you shouldn’t have. Luckily for you, we are here to help point out your mistake, and make sure that it doesn’t happen again.


You see, Ryan, when you played your first game in the major leagues, you made a commitment to us. Major League Baseball is a multinational corporation whose bourgeoisie owners rely solely on the labor of the proletariat that is the backbone of their enterprise. In the past, the bourgeoisie has felt that you are expendable, and that your efforts are replaceable, and that has forced us all to fight back. Because you have abilities that no one else has, you are obligated to your fellow players to receive the most amount of capital that you can. When you say that you are being “overpaid,” you give ownership an opportunity to replace us again, or pay us whatever they feel is charitable. You don’t want Jones to come back, do you Ryan?

Some animals are more equal than others. Like A-Rod.

Curt Flood received death threats to help you earn capital. Men have does so you can earn your capital. If you’re under the impression that you’re being “overpaid” when you are barely making over the league average salary, you are betraying the efforts of those who came before you. The union will take care of you, Ryan, but only when you make us.

So next time, Ryan, when you feel the need to say how lucky you are that you’re making the kind of money we fought so hard to get you, be sure to choose your words more carefully. We’ll be watching you. Good luck.



*Look it up, Philistines. A stirring rendition can be heard, here.

Josh Hamilton Saved By Jesus Chain E-Mails

Josh Hamilton is a terrific story. Heroic, even, or mind bottle-ingly stupid depending on your perspective. The #1 overall pick in the 1999 amateur draft, Hamilton fell into injuries, drugs, suspensions, all essentially at the same time as the Devil Rays futility continued.

25 tattoos, crack, four million, and the #1 overall pick. It bottles the mind.*

Regardless, after hitting rock bottom, he embraced Matsuzaka Jesus, got his life back together, got selected by the Reds in the Rule V draft, and the rest is recent history. I got two things out of this piece, both of which make me want to cry. First is that after what was essentially a three year layoff, he could light up the gun with a pitch, whereas I’m barely able to break 100 70 60. Some guys just got “it.” “It” meaning unparalleled athletic ability and the mojo to bang hot groupies whenever they mood strikes them.

Second is this little quote here:

Now, at the kitchen table, Hamilton toggles through some text messages saved on his cellphone until he finds the one he was looking for: Dated Dec. 6, 2006, at 1:42 a.m., it reads: "Jesus never fails. Send this message to nine people except me and you will get good news tomorrow. Don't take this as a joke." As soon as he got it, he did as instructed.

The next morning, in a hotel ballroom at Walt Disney World Resort near Orlando, baseball held its annual Rule 5 draft. Hamilton got a call later that day from a scout he knows. "Hey," the voice said, "you got taken by the Cubs." A little while later, another call: "Check that. The Cubs just traded you to the Reds."

Are you freakin' kidding me? Hamilton attributes his comeback to a chain e-mail probably started by a Jesus-freak 13 year old girl in rural Alabama? Absolute madness. Religion is good for all kinds of things like personal betterment, artistic creation, and jihad. It is not good for increasing the amount of chain e-mails already spamming the tubes of the Internet and driving good and decent people bat-shit crazy. If Hamilton is for chain mail, then I am against him. A pox upon his house.

Josh Hamilton-- Jesus' 4th outfielder

*Note: It is impossible to mention Blades of Glory without a sexy picture of the smokin’ hot “Pam” from “The Office” in sex-garb. Very tasty. And I mean that in a totally cannibalistic way.