A short message to the Mariners' GM:
What the (*)(*&(*^)!! is it going to take to get some hitters up in this piece? The M's have the 3rd best overall pitching staff in the majors, and the 28th best (worst) offense. Out of 30. With a pitching staff this good, we should be way ahead of everyone else in the division. Instead we have a negative 13 run total. NEGATIVE 13. We just finished a 3 game series in Detroit, winning 2 of 3, and TIED for total runs at 11. The last two wins were 2-1.
I'm not saying it's a bad thing that the M's can win close games, but score some freaking runs already. Pay what you have to pay to bring in some hitters, Mariners GM. Ichiro and Branyon are carrying this team right now, and it aint enough. You really think, Mariners GM, that this team can compete for a playoff spot with teams that can actually put numbers on the board?
Arrgaghg! That's all for now.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Roger Clemens is not smarter than the rock
Growing up, the father of one of my best friends was a basketball and baseball coach, and one of his favorite sayings was, "You have to be smarter than the rock!" I always loved that quip. It's fairly obvious, but when coaching kids bears repeating.
When Roger Clemens went on the radio to speak about his alleged steroid use and reaction to a new book detailing his cheating behavior, he tried to give concrete reasons explaining why he wouldn't/couldn't have taken steroids.
One of the reasons was that heart disease runs in his family. His brother has it, his stepdad died from it, and...wait, what was that? Stepdad?
Oh, Roger. Roger Roger Roger. Apparently he's misremembered that marrying into a family doesn't make you blood relatives. By the way, he sticks with his original assessment that Andy Pettite still misremembers talking about steroids. Dude, seriously. I looked up misremembered on dictionary.com just to see if it existed. Holy oversized head, batman, it does. Seems it originated in the 16th century, and hasn't been used since. I'm guessing RC stumbled onto it trying to sound smart rather than recognizing the correct usage of a verb that popped up in 1525, but that's just my cynical nature. Or not.
Taking into account this is a guy who believes that heart disease runs in his family because his stepdad had it leads me to posit that he couldn't spell misremembers, let alone include it in a sentence that doesn't involve Andy Pettite or waffles; "I misremembered to put on the syrup and my waffles was dry. Like my steroids."
Maybe he thinks that saying something makes it so. If this is the case, he should really start a blog.
When Roger Clemens went on the radio to speak about his alleged steroid use and reaction to a new book detailing his cheating behavior, he tried to give concrete reasons explaining why he wouldn't/couldn't have taken steroids.
One of the reasons was that heart disease runs in his family. His brother has it, his stepdad died from it, and...wait, what was that? Stepdad?
Oh, Roger. Roger Roger Roger. Apparently he's misremembered that marrying into a family doesn't make you blood relatives. By the way, he sticks with his original assessment that Andy Pettite still misremembers talking about steroids. Dude, seriously. I looked up misremembered on dictionary.com just to see if it existed. Holy oversized head, batman, it does. Seems it originated in the 16th century, and hasn't been used since. I'm guessing RC stumbled onto it trying to sound smart rather than recognizing the correct usage of a verb that popped up in 1525, but that's just my cynical nature. Or not.
Taking into account this is a guy who believes that heart disease runs in his family because his stepdad had it leads me to posit that he couldn't spell misremembers, let alone include it in a sentence that doesn't involve Andy Pettite or waffles; "I misremembered to put on the syrup and my waffles was dry. Like my steroids."
Maybe he thinks that saying something makes it so. If this is the case, he should really start a blog.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mine!
Ok, I realize that last post was all on how exciting the Mariners are, how they're going to be fun to watch, how they resemble the 2001 team, blah blah blah, vomit, whoops.
Thanks for nothing, fellas. Ten seconds after my glowing review they decided to stop scoring runs, keep playing Silva and Beltre, and lose 6 straight. They had to come from behind win today just to get back to .500. Hilarious. Now stop with the practical jokes.
Perhaps I was a bit too eager with the praise. I think "starved for good news" was the actual culprit. I want this team to win. Not just play .500 ball, but win. Every game. All the time, for the rest of the season. Go 146-16. I'd be cool with this.
It got me thinking though.
I want the M's to win because I'm selfish. It's all about me in the end. They win, I feel good. They lose, I get mildly put out and grow weary of listening to them on the radio. No matter how old we are, we perceive the world as revolving around us, because really, we are all we know for certain. We can try to sympathize, empathize, supersize with those in our periphery, but if somebody don't treat us right, we get bent out of shape because hey man! it's us you're messing with.
We are ultimately the most important person in our lives. Maybe this changes when you become a parent, but my childhood experience tells me that isn't necessarily the truth. And when I do have kids, I'm gonna let 'em know that if daddy wants a sandwich, you better damn well go get him a sandwich or your self-involved behind might get re-educated on who matters more in this household. End scene.
But I digress. I'm selfish. I want to live in Eureka. Not the town in California. The fictional town with all the cool gadgets and perfect looking people and sheriff Carter. I want a talking house that beers me after a long day of snowboarding and lying on the beach. I want to walk around holding a deceptively tasty warm beverage and take in the sights while no one bothers me, though they eye me envyingly and admire my fashionable taste in fashion. And pecs.
It's not enough that I have a fridge and can put beer, or anything else I want in it just to drink it whenever I feel, I want an intuitive machine that can do it for me. I can't be bothered by the fact that much of the earth's population doesn't even have clean drinking water, let alone electricity. I grew up in America, where I deserve.
And because of this preposterous sense of entitlement, I feel that all my sports teams should win and that I should own a 27 car garage and my own airline instead of being grateful for what I have and all the opportunity in the free world. I am learning to smell the roses/coffee and appreciate all the things that we oftentimes take for granted.
This, however, does not mean that if I was given a choice between living in a smart house in Eureka or keeping my bevy of friends that I would choose you, my loyal reader.
Some lessons you can only take so far.
Thanks for nothing, fellas. Ten seconds after my glowing review they decided to stop scoring runs, keep playing Silva and Beltre, and lose 6 straight. They had to come from behind win today just to get back to .500. Hilarious. Now stop with the practical jokes.
Perhaps I was a bit too eager with the praise. I think "starved for good news" was the actual culprit. I want this team to win. Not just play .500 ball, but win. Every game. All the time, for the rest of the season. Go 146-16. I'd be cool with this.
It got me thinking though.
I want the M's to win because I'm selfish. It's all about me in the end. They win, I feel good. They lose, I get mildly put out and grow weary of listening to them on the radio. No matter how old we are, we perceive the world as revolving around us, because really, we are all we know for certain. We can try to sympathize, empathize, supersize with those in our periphery, but if somebody don't treat us right, we get bent out of shape because hey man! it's us you're messing with.
We are ultimately the most important person in our lives. Maybe this changes when you become a parent, but my childhood experience tells me that isn't necessarily the truth. And when I do have kids, I'm gonna let 'em know that if daddy wants a sandwich, you better damn well go get him a sandwich or your self-involved behind might get re-educated on who matters more in this household. End scene.
But I digress. I'm selfish. I want to live in Eureka. Not the town in California. The fictional town with all the cool gadgets and perfect looking people and sheriff Carter. I want a talking house that beers me after a long day of snowboarding and lying on the beach. I want to walk around holding a deceptively tasty warm beverage and take in the sights while no one bothers me, though they eye me envyingly and admire my fashionable taste in fashion. And pecs.
It's not enough that I have a fridge and can put beer, or anything else I want in it just to drink it whenever I feel, I want an intuitive machine that can do it for me. I can't be bothered by the fact that much of the earth's population doesn't even have clean drinking water, let alone electricity. I grew up in America, where I deserve.
And because of this preposterous sense of entitlement, I feel that all my sports teams should win and that I should own a 27 car garage and my own airline instead of being grateful for what I have and all the opportunity in the free world. I am learning to smell the roses/coffee and appreciate all the things that we oftentimes take for granted.
This, however, does not mean that if I was given a choice between living in a smart house in Eureka or keeping my bevy of friends that I would choose you, my loyal reader.
Some lessons you can only take so far.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Playing with small balls
I am seriously stoked about the professional hometown baseball squad right now. Perhaps because last year was the worst sports year for any city ever, meaning teams in this town can't get any uglier and we no longer have any decent expectations, or perhaps because they're just so darn exciting to watch.
When '09 spring training came to a close, a reporter was asked on the radio what she thought the difference was between last year's and this year's teams. She said the atmosphere in the dugout was poles apart from last year. In '08, the clubhouse tension was so thick you couldn't breath, and nobody, including the players, wanted to be there. This year, she said, people were getting along, having fun, respecting the manager, and learning.
On a side note, we also have Griffey. At the moment, I don't care that his batting average is -24 degrees. He's here, and though it hasn't completely sunk in yet, that's all that matters. Back to the column.
Wakamatsu didn't really spark my fancy when he was hired. I think I missed that announcement altogether actually. By about a month. Hearing him speak on "What we have to change to teach these guys about winning, blah blah blah," wasn't particularly inspiring. Sounded like manager talk, which is short for what had we had been hearing from McLaren, Riggleman, Hargrove, and Melvin.
(Good lord, I actually had to google a historical list of M's managers just to remember Melvin and Riggleman, who was the most recent coach. Dag, these guys were forgettable.)
However, Wakamatsu took this team and got them back to basics. I hate that phrase by the way, and it was one that I felt was overused this spring. But whaddya know, he's motivated them to sacrifice, steal, bunt, and so far, stash their egos. He's got them playing small ball, which was what the 2001 team did so brilliantly, until the playoffs.
Homeruns are cool and all, but they don't hold your attention like small ball does. Getting guys on base however you can and doing any manner of things to advance them is WAY more exciting to me, and it always has been. Even when I played little league. If someone's on, you don't know what the batter is going to do, what the runner is going to do, or what the manager is going to do, but you know with this team that they're going to do something.
That not only keeps fans in a perpetual state of anticipation, it drives the opposition nuts. Certainly the defense isn't lulled to sleep when the M's are at the bat, but they'll sweat through their precious beanies thinking about what's coming next.
And that, to me, is good baseball. Scratch that, it's great baseball.
When '09 spring training came to a close, a reporter was asked on the radio what she thought the difference was between last year's and this year's teams. She said the atmosphere in the dugout was poles apart from last year. In '08, the clubhouse tension was so thick you couldn't breath, and nobody, including the players, wanted to be there. This year, she said, people were getting along, having fun, respecting the manager, and learning.
On a side note, we also have Griffey. At the moment, I don't care that his batting average is -24 degrees. He's here, and though it hasn't completely sunk in yet, that's all that matters. Back to the column.
Wakamatsu didn't really spark my fancy when he was hired. I think I missed that announcement altogether actually. By about a month. Hearing him speak on "What we have to change to teach these guys about winning, blah blah blah," wasn't particularly inspiring. Sounded like manager talk, which is short for what had we had been hearing from McLaren, Riggleman, Hargrove, and Melvin.
(Good lord, I actually had to google a historical list of M's managers just to remember Melvin and Riggleman, who was the most recent coach. Dag, these guys were forgettable.)
However, Wakamatsu took this team and got them back to basics. I hate that phrase by the way, and it was one that I felt was overused this spring. But whaddya know, he's motivated them to sacrifice, steal, bunt, and so far, stash their egos. He's got them playing small ball, which was what the 2001 team did so brilliantly, until the playoffs.
Homeruns are cool and all, but they don't hold your attention like small ball does. Getting guys on base however you can and doing any manner of things to advance them is WAY more exciting to me, and it always has been. Even when I played little league. If someone's on, you don't know what the batter is going to do, what the runner is going to do, or what the manager is going to do, but you know with this team that they're going to do something.
That not only keeps fans in a perpetual state of anticipation, it drives the opposition nuts. Certainly the defense isn't lulled to sleep when the M's are at the bat, but they'll sweat through their precious beanies thinking about what's coming next.
And that, to me, is good baseball. Scratch that, it's great baseball.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Hipster football players traded, look for new team-colored scarves
Two professional indie football players were swapped in a trade Thursday involving two first round draft picks and girl jeans. The players were ok with the trade, saying they traded for one another last year in their respective fantasy leagues."It's actually pretty def," said Jay Cutler, one of the players no one outside of Denver cares about, "I think despite my lack of facial hair, it's a good deal. I have a stack of underground 70's britpunk and Southern blues LP's, not to mention my closet full of ridiculous black vests, and I think that really upped my trade status."
Adding to the underwhelming nature of the deal it was noted that the trade actually took place last year, but no one noticed until today, including the players. Chicago Bears general manager Jerry Angelo related that he thought of the trade after realizing no one could tell the two quarterbacks apart, what with their unlaced hi-tops, 2 sizes too small leather jackets, shaggy hair and VW vans. "I thought, what the hell? I asked [Cutler's agent] Bus Cook to throw in a case of PBR and we called it a night. We thought someone would have figured it out by now."
Both players spent the day cutting demos in their girlfriend's basements and twittering. "I suppose I'd care more if it really made a difference, you know?" said Kyle Orton, puffing on a menthol, "But I'm busy catching up on my Kurosawa. Lates."
Monday, March 23, 2009
Do your things! Do them better!
Aaaaarrgh. Alright, I'm finally at a place where I can talk about the Huskies losing in the 2nd round. A game they should have won. A game they could have won, had a couple of things happened differently.
And by a couple of things, I mean 4.
#1: Justin Dentmon plays. Oh wait, you say he did play? He has 2 steals in the box score to prove it? He played 27 minutes and scored 5 points? Sheer lunacy! In my mind, the most improved player in the Pac-10 didn't even make the bus down to Portland. The first half of the season he's a candidate for P10 POY, and the last bit, most glaringly the NCAA Tourney, he disappears. Disappears! What the eff, man? What was he waiting for? One of 2 senior leaders on the team, and all I can remember is him subbing out periodically and not doing anything. Certainly not taking shots, driving into the lane and creating opportunities, or driving into the lane and taking shots.
This drove me absolutely nuts. The Miss. State game he didn't do anything either, but it wasn't a big deal cuz MISSISSISUSState was in over their heads. It did matter during the P10 tourney, and the Purdue game, when his leadership and shooting could have carried the Huskies into the title game and sweet 16 respectively. Instead, 3 other players made 64 out of 74 total points. 3 people! If he starts shooting, we win! Simple concept! You're not going to play in the NBA dude, so make the most of the time you have left! Shoot the damn ball! Shoot it! Aaaaaarrgh!
#2: REBOUND THE BASKETBALL! REBOUND IT! I must say, I was screaming at the tele every time Purdue blocked out and got the rebound, which was pretty much every time the Huskies shot it in the first half, as their shooting percentage was around -6. So imagine my utter shock when the final box score read Purdue: 34 rebounds, and Washington: 34 rebounds. Wait, that's not the game I remember. We even had 12 offensive rebounds to their 10. Brockman and Pondexter combined for 28 boards between them, which is a win any other night of the week, any place in the country. I think the stat sheet must have read like this: 1st half UW, 0 rebounds, 2nd half UW, 34 rebounds. This brings me to my next point, which is thus:
#3: The tale of 2 halves. In the first half, we were out rebounded, outworked, and outscored. The Dawgs couldn't buy a basket, couldn't grab a carom, couldn't stop the Purdue starters. We were outscored in the paint, for god's sakes. That never happens. All of the stats were slanted Purdue's way, and still I believed we would come back and win, however ugly it might have been. Hell, you saw the AZ State game, yes? Down by 21, the Huskies came back to take the lead! Unfortunately they couldn't hit the broad side of a barn the last 5 minutes of that game, but it showed they weren't talentless quitters.
In the 2nd half, we outscored, out rebounded, and for the most part outworked their guys. Even with the horrible officiating, and by horrible I mean real way bad wrong. The zebras didn't call crap under the basket when our guys got mauled, then called ticky-tack fouls on the perimeter. At least they were consistent, with 3 Purdue guys at 4 fouls apiece by the end of the game. It probably helped us get back in it, to tell the truth.
In the 2nd half we scored 46 points, and lost by 2. That's 4 short of 50! And we still lost. We ended up with a better FG% and lost. Two guys with double-doubles, and still lost. How many other teams out there have had 2 starters hit double-doubles and lost? I haven't done the research, but I'm guessing none. I mean, has that happened to anyone all year? Decade? Whatever.
#4: Martel Webster and Spencer Hawes. Screw you guys, and especially you, Hawes. Had either one of those guys stuck around, I say it's a much different story. Remember the Brockman/Hawes tandem? It was a force to be reckoned with, but more so for the quick bits that showed they could be unstoppable together when healthy. It was a glimpse into a future that could have been. When S.H. jumped ship -in my mind, way too early- for the mad money, that set us back. Brockman didn't have the supporting cast until this year to make the team seriously competitive. Same deal with Webster. Bros before cash, you money grubbing NBA hoes. You heard me.
Hawes even admitted this in a recent interview, saying the Huskies would have won it all this year had he stuck around. Ifs, ands or buts. You can't live what could have been, but you can get seriously upset thinking about it. The only upside to this is that I wouldn't have to kill myself had the Dawgs lost to UConn in the round of 16 again. I think my face would have exploded.
And by a couple of things, I mean 4.
#1: Justin Dentmon plays. Oh wait, you say he did play? He has 2 steals in the box score to prove it? He played 27 minutes and scored 5 points? Sheer lunacy! In my mind, the most improved player in the Pac-10 didn't even make the bus down to Portland. The first half of the season he's a candidate for P10 POY, and the last bit, most glaringly the NCAA Tourney, he disappears. Disappears! What the eff, man? What was he waiting for? One of 2 senior leaders on the team, and all I can remember is him subbing out periodically and not doing anything. Certainly not taking shots, driving into the lane and creating opportunities, or driving into the lane and taking shots.
This drove me absolutely nuts. The Miss. State game he didn't do anything either, but it wasn't a big deal cuz MISSISSISUSState was in over their heads. It did matter during the P10 tourney, and the Purdue game, when his leadership and shooting could have carried the Huskies into the title game and sweet 16 respectively. Instead, 3 other players made 64 out of 74 total points. 3 people! If he starts shooting, we win! Simple concept! You're not going to play in the NBA dude, so make the most of the time you have left! Shoot the damn ball! Shoot it! Aaaaaarrgh!
#2: REBOUND THE BASKETBALL! REBOUND IT! I must say, I was screaming at the tele every time Purdue blocked out and got the rebound, which was pretty much every time the Huskies shot it in the first half, as their shooting percentage was around -6. So imagine my utter shock when the final box score read Purdue: 34 rebounds, and Washington: 34 rebounds. Wait, that's not the game I remember. We even had 12 offensive rebounds to their 10. Brockman and Pondexter combined for 28 boards between them, which is a win any other night of the week, any place in the country. I think the stat sheet must have read like this: 1st half UW, 0 rebounds, 2nd half UW, 34 rebounds. This brings me to my next point, which is thus:
#3: The tale of 2 halves. In the first half, we were out rebounded, outworked, and outscored. The Dawgs couldn't buy a basket, couldn't grab a carom, couldn't stop the Purdue starters. We were outscored in the paint, for god's sakes. That never happens. All of the stats were slanted Purdue's way, and still I believed we would come back and win, however ugly it might have been. Hell, you saw the AZ State game, yes? Down by 21, the Huskies came back to take the lead! Unfortunately they couldn't hit the broad side of a barn the last 5 minutes of that game, but it showed they weren't talentless quitters.
In the 2nd half, we outscored, out rebounded, and for the most part outworked their guys. Even with the horrible officiating, and by horrible I mean real way bad wrong. The zebras didn't call crap under the basket when our guys got mauled, then called ticky-tack fouls on the perimeter. At least they were consistent, with 3 Purdue guys at 4 fouls apiece by the end of the game. It probably helped us get back in it, to tell the truth.
In the 2nd half we scored 46 points, and lost by 2. That's 4 short of 50! And we still lost. We ended up with a better FG% and lost. Two guys with double-doubles, and still lost. How many other teams out there have had 2 starters hit double-doubles and lost? I haven't done the research, but I'm guessing none. I mean, has that happened to anyone all year? Decade? Whatever.
#4: Martel Webster and Spencer Hawes. Screw you guys, and especially you, Hawes. Had either one of those guys stuck around, I say it's a much different story. Remember the Brockman/Hawes tandem? It was a force to be reckoned with, but more so for the quick bits that showed they could be unstoppable together when healthy. It was a glimpse into a future that could have been. When S.H. jumped ship -in my mind, way too early- for the mad money, that set us back. Brockman didn't have the supporting cast until this year to make the team seriously competitive. Same deal with Webster. Bros before cash, you money grubbing NBA hoes. You heard me.
Hawes even admitted this in a recent interview, saying the Huskies would have won it all this year had he stuck around. Ifs, ands or buts. You can't live what could have been, but you can get seriously upset thinking about it. The only upside to this is that I wouldn't have to kill myself had the Dawgs lost to UConn in the round of 16 again. I think my face would have exploded.
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