Wilson Betemit

St. Louis continues to face dark skies, and we know that when you're getting rained (or urinated) on, it tends to pour. Wainwright. Carpenter. Holliday. Being cursed to have to deal with Tony Larussa on a day in day out basis...
Yep... and now it's this line straight from ESPN about Albert...
"a non-displaced fracture of his left radius and his arm is in a splint."
Of all the things that we never thought we would have to do in life (wear an A-Rod jersey, watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding + 8 Mile, sit through an entire episode of the Kardashians, or ever have to relive the junior high school years after getting sucked into a horrible nightmare of a wayback machine moment), it seems that we now have to write about his assailant: Wilson Betemit.
Let it be known that it's only because he's now officially the dirtbag who took out Albert Pujols' and his ability to go .300, 30, 100, and 100 this year (he came up 1 run short of this only once in his 10 year career, but thanks to nobody loser Bettamit, it's going to happen since he's .279, 17, 52, and 49 this year).
We are not impressed.
Just like with his 8 year career that has him at shades above .260 and less than 60 jacks and no speed to speak of, Betemit is a person in need of a career shift - even if he's hitting .287 in 188 at bats for perennial cellar dwellers Kansas City.
Thus, for ruining Albert Pujols' 2011, we want to wish him some or all of these 10 things that somehow won't affect our karma.
1. A trip to the Gulf of Aden.
2. A job cleaning up after a New York Republican representative.
3. Teaching Megan Fox about World War Two in order to increase her chances of ever working in Hollywood again.
4. Getting to screen Shaq's newest career move.
5. A free course with Dale Carnegie.
6. The A-Rod run to first base course.
7. The chance to throw a luncheon for NFL owners and players.
8. A chance for a new career with a name that will completely fit him.
9. Being the guy who creates and cleans up after Justin Bieber's parties.
10. Helping others to overcome their inappropriately chosen words. Kind of like...
"I was running hard and the ball arrived at the same time I got to the base. I couldn't do anything about it. He hit me on my left arm, that's why he dropped the ball. I hit him and then I saw him on the ground. That's part of the game. I couldn't do anything about it."

David Ortiz

One has to wonder about all the hype and the hooplah associated with David Ortiz's first plunk from the Yankees in 1 full season worth of games (162) between the 2 teams. Sure, the Red Sox do tend to hit a lot of Yankees, but is this hatred, crowding the plate, bad pitching or what? And sure, it is the unwritten code of baseball as exacted by great men like Bob Gibson that a certain 17" of plate is mine and that a certain amount of respect is mine. All good pitchers ever knew this. That's why Pedro was so dominant (you gotta love that Gerald Williams hit - it sure did scare Tampa Bay, that's for sure). All good hitters knew this. That's why Barry Bonds wore tank armour on his arm.
Who cares who takes offense to a flipped bat? For years, the Yankees made people put up with their fecal material (as if it didn't stink) because they were winning and they were on top. Now, they are starting to suck. They're starting to get old.
If the best thing that the Yankees can do to trump up to justify CC taking a shot at the sluggi one is that Joe Girardi was worried about the feelings of poor little Hector Noesi (and since the Yankees pitching staff is injured, thin, and brittle in mind and body, they've got a lot of protecting to do), then so be it because it's New York and they'll do what they can to stay in the forefront of everyone's mind - even when they're on the decline.
"Hating the Yankees is as American as pizza pie, unwed mothers, and cheating on your income tax," Columnist Mike Royko once said.
We agree. That said, if you haven't seen the following video of Big Sluggi getting nailed by CC Sabathia on  MLBTV's Intentional Talk, then you're really missing out.
In the end, if Sluggi is having a great year and rebounding from the usual early season crappiness and post steroids drought that he has been forcing Boston fans to put up with, then bring on the retaliation towards him - we haven't thought anything about him since Obama ran for president, but hey, if he's 2004 David Ortiz, we'll take that he's going to be a target. For us, Papi can be in it to win it and make the Yankees hate him all that he wants. They still owe him a foot on that game one shot he almost put out of the stadium in the 2004 ALCS (game 1) when the Red Sox started to rally back after Mussina had left them in a stagnant morass. The time has come to pile on the misery to make the Yankee fans remember the 1980s and early 1990s for what they were - a complete joy to all non New Yorkers!
So let Girardi and crew cry. They'll be making us put up with their Jeter 3000 lovefest soon enough, which frankly put, is enough to make us vomit (even if we're doing better with getting over that whole Jeter sucks thing - besides, it's all about hating on A-Rod).

Gerrit Cole

The draft is just what it is - unless we're talking about coming up unlucky with conscription, but all the same, Gerrit Cole has to be happy. His doubters look at his losing record and laugh, but as anyone with half a brain knows, wins and losses don't mean anything. Just because you're on a team with a crappy offense or because you have to apply for non-support doesn't mean that you're a bad player. It just means that you're unfortunate. That said, at least he'll be used to non support when he plays for the Pirates (although this year, they are a little better as they flirt with .500 at various points a few months into the season and they are only 2 games under at this point in time (28-30)).
We laugh at who goes first and second in pro sports. We laughed when the Houston Texans selected Mario Williams instead of Reggie Bush, but there were issues of who could afford Reggie Bush. A complete bust of a non-Kardashian career later, Bush is the guy who cost USC the National Championship (though in his defense, asking 18-24 year olds not to earn money JUST BECAUSE you've given them a full ride is asinine. If their parents are rich, they can give them beer and date money. If they're kids from the streets, well... suffer little children as you get caught for taking money and cars and jewelry and tattoos from rich donors everywhere (we feel your pain Ohio State).
And we can't blame Pittsburgh for what they can't afford or don't want to deal with heartache over. It's not like Pedro Alvarez and Scott Boras came through with an ability to match their holdout. Instead, they've got a guy hitting .208 and on the DL. One man can't change the culture of a team. At least not in MLB. Maybe in the NBA (and even then, Lebron isn't enough by himself - though he can make money at the gate). But for the Pirates scouting, they have 2 picks that had marginal talent in the Bonds-less past: Andrew McCutchen and Jason Kendall. Sure, McCutchen is touted as the 2nd coming, but he's not tearing up my fantasy league or the pros all that much. Jason Kendall is good and played for a while, but yeah... it's not like people are investing in his rookie card.
Looking at can't miss picks from number one of all of those who have played and had some degree of success, we have to look at the potential of our boy Stephen Strasburg (get well soon). We then find A-Rod, who despite hating his guts, we have to say that minus the steroids, he was the best can't miss prospect out of the league. Ken Griffey Jr. could have been great, but there were the injuries in the second half of his career. Joe Mauer could be be great as well, but he's injured so much that we don't really care what he can't do on MLB video games. Adrian Gonzalez has some upside, and we appreciate that - especially because he's finally earning his Boston Red Sox money. Josh Hamilton has a lot of upside as well - save the injuries, the smack, and the dalliances with drunken women who aren't his wife. Chipper Jones was really good too, but I never thought of him as the answer to the greatest player ever. He's a great player from an age who deserves to be remembered as being good in his age and being good for a great team during his age, but will he or should he be remembered longer than Dale Murphy was from his age?

And what of the ancients? Bob Horner? Harold Baines? Rick Monday? Tim Foli? Besides dressing up as Foli when I was a kid, there is no joy in Tim Foli land save a small town Pennsylvania Halloween parade. Baines is loved by the White Sox. Horner is pretty much forgotten outside Atlanta. Rick Monday saved the flag (we wrote about that). There are some 2 year wonders, and there is last generations Josh Hamilton (Darryl Strawberry) who always managed to blow his chances, but such is life. We can't all be perfect and this isn't about casting shame on those who aren't, but is there a possibility from number one. Can David Price continue to excel or will he end up being Floyd Bannister?
So many questions to wonder, but for now, we'll wish him and the class of 2011 the best and hope that they all end up great (same for Bryce Harper), but yeah... the minors aren't college ball, and they definitely aren't the majors. Keep working, though. The future will soon be here.

Carl Crawford

There is something about the feeling of being in a new ballpark.

Today, I went to Commerica Park in Detroit with a friend of mine from Air Force days (a million years ago or something like that) to see the Tigers play the Red Sox.

It's definitely a brave new world that we're entering into. Since Brian Stow and since becoming an adult, there are a few things that I'm definitely not doing. Number one - I'm not trying to cause a scene in an opposing ballpark. Yep... I'm definitely more mature than I was at age 29 when I went with 2 friends (one who loved baseball - one who wanted to see the game) to see the Orioles and Red Sox square off at Camden Yards. We had kazoos, signs, and attitude, and many people probably weren't happy with us. Nevertheless, we went hoarse as Pedro went for a complete game with 15 strikeouts and only 2 hits. It was a romp, and it became the chapter "Pedro and the Pantheon" in Bill Simmons' Now I Can Die in Peace. To give you an example of how I've changed, when we went, we had an extra ticket, and we sold it to a guy on the street - informing him that we were going to be crazy. I don't think he realized how much, but alas... we were just getting started for preparations for the game that never was (a rainout between the Trenton Thunder and Boston Red Sox that we showed up at way early in hopes of getting autographs while wearing face paint). I have the pictures from sitting around waiting, but alas, the rain that day just made sure the game would never happen.

Back then, I was all about my team. It's not that I'm not now, but it's just when one is in a younger frame of mind, one doesn't have to feel so desperately connected to meaning through the actions of another team. Well, that and I'm not Harvey Updyke. I still get venomous at the Yankees, but I don't go so far as to refer to Derek Jeter as a selfish player like Bleacher Report (these guys must be on some serious medication). Then again, their definitions of selfish are mostly just jerk players and players from New York (though I would agree with A-Rod at number 1).

Number 2: Since Brian Stow, I'm conscious about getting my ass kicked for my Pedro Martinez jersey and Red Sox hat. I actually asked my friend (from Michigan) if he would mind sitting next to a guy in a Red Sox jersey and if the fans would react horribly to opposing fans in the stadium. As I'm not a Yankee fan, I was ok, and really, there were other fans who were all really decent about being there, and that's what it's all about. Experience other stadiums, enjoy their heritage (there are some awesome statues of Ty Cobb, Al Kaline, Hal Newhauser, Hank Greenberg, Charlie Gehringer, and Willie Horton. For this, the Tigers do love their past and present (much love is shown to the current team despite only Cabrera and Verlander being all stars), it's just that they don't have much of a current team, and for that...

Number 3: It's not like watching Alfredo Aceves... even for as dominant as he looked, was really a great drawing card. He wasn't flat out nasty, but he did get the job done, which is more than can be said for Max Scherzer, who within 4 batters into an outless third inning was done for the 7 runs that he gave up. Normally, if I was into my team as I used to be, I would have been chanting and screaming with Jacoby Ellsbury's 3-run jack, but I actually felt bad for my friend that he didn't get to see a closer game. I don't want to be an ugly winner, but yeah... the box score really says it all.

And it's not like I get all jazzed on the current Red Sox. Sure, Big Sluggi has redeemed himself this year. Sure, there are bright spots after the horrible start, but they're not the Idiots from 2003 or the 2004 World Series team (or even 2007). They're a stacked team of devastating offense brought together to kill opposing teams.

Now that Carl Crawford is 8 for his last 9 (2 doubles, 2 triples, 1 home run, 5 runs, 5 RBIs, no whiffs), can anything stop Boston? They whooped on Cleveland 2 of 3 games and only lost the first one after Manny Acta got himself ejected (gotta love that Lake Erie love that pushed the Indians to victory).

Technically, we're .003 out of first place as the Rays fall to a game and a half back with the Yankees in first, but there is such a thing as momentum. The Yankees have a West Coast trip. Boston gets Detroit and Oakland and the White Sox. Then, the 2 come together for a meeting where Boston has killed New York in their meetings this year. I'm not saying that a June meetup is the end of the world / do or die, but with the way that the Red Sox are changing their direction, it could be meaningful TV.

If I allow myself to get caught up in it!

Ken Caminiti

Providing the world doesn't end, you will be reading this - that you are means that it either:
A) hasn't happened yet.
or
B) isn't going to happen.
Nevertheless, the death of Randy "Macho Man" Savage did happen. While it seems sad, it seems that he's just another pro wrestler to die early from abuse to his body that years in the ring caused.
And while baseball has not seen death due to steroids since Ken Caminiti... let's be honest, even football hasn't seen much death (Lyle Alzado), it has witnessed lots of career death. From Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa to Barry Bonds to Roger Clemens, the stars of the past have been tainted. The stars of the present seem to be without a lot of the big guns steroids users with exception to Alex Rodriguez. It's a slippery and sad slope, but all the same, it's pretty much covered in its entirety at Baseball's Steroid Era (though they stopped writing last year).
At the time Ken Caminiti was famous for 2 things:
1) the 1996 NL MVP for the Padres.
and
2) doing a lot of steroids and not getting clean.
On October 10, 2004, he shuffled off this mortal coil, a victim of his demons. Prior to this, he never was able to go back to 1996 (neither was Brady Anderson), and while 1997 and 1998 were good, they will always be steroids tainted (as will his 239 home runs).
He finished his career where it started - Houston - and went noisily to his grave. In 2001, he was arrested, and it wasn't pretty - cocaine in Texas. He came clean to Tom Verducci of Sports Illustrated in 2002 and admitted to how much better that steroids made him (Mark McGwire would disagree with this, but alas... as we've never used roids, we wouldn't know. We do know that they cut down the time between workouts, help with recovery, and make working out easy, so...).
Interestingly enough, in the discussions with Caminiti, he said that 50% of players are on steroids. Jose Canseco said that 85% of players were. Verducci thought Canseco was about shock treatment, but alas, history has vindicated him, but all the same, he's still a worthless piece of crap.
Today, Lance Armstrong faces the accusations of Tyler Hamilton, a cyclist who trained with Lance, and said that he also used EPO. Lance is famous for employing the Clemons defense (or vice versa): spend A LOT of money, tell the world that your accuser(s) is a lying piece of crap, and hope that you can outspend him / her / them.
It worked for Lance. He got the French book that trashed him from being published in America (either we love Lance, hate the French, or both), but it didn't work for Roger. Now, it seems that it's not working for Lance either, which is sad because his was a story that we needed to be real (cancer victim makes good and wins the Tour De France 7 times in a row, once again leaving the French to feel inferior.
Now, he looks to see his image and world destroyed as Hamilton has given up his Olympic medals, and just like Floyd Landis who took Armstrong to task, we see a sport so shattered with regard to PEDs. EPO is the undetectable drug of choice for the field as it's natural in the body - unless there is too much of it there, so players will measure their level and and inject more to get to the top of the spectrum for what they can have in there. The EPO allows for more oxygen to be absorbed by the body during breathing, and wahlah, the cyclist kicks butt in the mountains.
Until he's found out.
Then he's meat, and that's not good.
Many baseball players have walked the line that Mr. Armstrong looks to walk, and while they've come back from disaster in varying degrees, the yellow bracelets for Lance will be history very soon. It's a shame since it's talent at the end that wins the race, and Armstrong is talented, but some will say he's dirty, and perhaps that's true, but in the end, is a player cheating if he's just cheating to keep up with a sport full of cheaters?
And for this, we have to wonder if all sports will soon be seen as "sports entertainment" rather than natural competition. Wrestling survived when it admitted to being "fake." Will baseball and cycling when they admit to benefiting from better living through chemistry? Since they can't be like the NFL and just manage to avoid the fray despite their cast of 300 pound goons who run 4.0 40s, we can only wonder.

Jorge Posada

Normally, and by normally, I mean if I wasn't married to my wife or hoping for a relationship (as was the case for Game 6 of the 2003 World Series - the one where Beckett lights out-ed the Yankees - I did see the end of that one with the pile on celebration after the date sucked), I would be spending the entire weekend draped in a Red Sox jersey over my "certified Yankee hater" shirt, wishing death on the Evil Empire.
Several things have changed this:
1) On December 1, 2007, I met my wife. She's awesome and I'd rather go see Brides maids with her than watch a "relatively meaningless" season game. Granted, it counts in the standings and for the total of wins against each other per year (if we end up tied and have to determine post season home advantage), but alas... it's just not the same as it used to be.
2) In those days before my wife, the Red Sox had won one World Series, and until then, things were even worse. Hell, let's be honest. Things were worse because of the win, but the second win...
3) The year the Yankees didn't even make the playoffs (2008)...
4) The fact that it's hard to be attached to this group of players... many who weren't even around for either team's historic runs... and if they are, they're older than velociraptors...
So yeah...
Here we are in da Bronx and the Red Sox are officially victors in the first 2 games of the series. While the first game got close at the end, the 2nd game was a 6-0 laugher, and well, that's really what it is.
The reality here is not in the box score... it's in the aging of the old guard as Jorge Posada asked out of the lineup as his average rises to .165 after being as low as .125 at the end of April. There are 6 home runs, but in 108 at bats, there are only 18 total hits.
He's not the only one.
Derek Jeter is at .267 with 2 home runs.
Mark Teixeira is at .254 with 9 home runs.
Alex Rodriguez is at .252 with 6 home runs.
Curtis Granderson and his .281, 12, 26 line is the star. Even Robinson Cano isn't leading the team yet. Did I jinx the guy by picking him for fantasy (.279, 9, 25)?
In the beginning, the Red Sox and the Rays were 0-6, but both rebounded. Now, the Rays are in first place and they're cold kicking ass on all opponents. While not as good as Philly or Cleveland (and Cleveland is actually the 2nd best team - by default of playing one less game than the Phillies), we can see that there is a new guard in baseball that isn't including the money teams (well, save Philly, which is somehow moving around Ryan Howard's move to #2 in strikeouts to ride his hits and homers to victory).
For a team that played tough against Texas (4 wins), they lost 2 to Kansas City in the stadium. They've lost 4 of 5 to the Red Sox, and today, they face the Sox with Freddy Garcia on the hill against Jon Lester and a Boston team that is trying desperately to get to .500 (while 19-14 since the 0-6 start of the season, they're below the mark, and frankly, every time they've been getting to .500, they always find a way to phone it in and stay mired below.
Is today the game that they go otherwise? Or is this the continued loss of power from a once great dynasty / stable of big contracts?

Roy Halladay

Philadelphia has long been known for its doctors. There was Dr. J and his sweet 70s afro flying through the sky for slam dunks with style and class. There was Bill Cosby delivering babies and proving that the African American place was wherever their talents and drive could take them. The University of Penn and Temple both have famous doctoral schools and churn out lots of great medical professionals, but no doctor in the city of Philadelphia is quite as famous as Doc Halladay (and while he may not win 30 games like The Baseball Project predicts, he could come very close).

Yesterday, he was sitting down Padres like a defrocking convention gone haywire. All in all, he had 14 friars getting irate in the dugout by the end of the 8th inning, but then, he blew the 2 hit shutout in the 9th inning with 3 more hits, and so in came Antonio Bastardo to seal the deal on the Phillies first home sweep of the Padres since 1979 and the days of Ozzie Smith.

This was a perfect comeback after the debacle against Milwaulkee (6.2 innings, 6 earned, 3 whiffs), but it doesn't disguise the hatred that I feel for Philadelphia's announcers (for their partisan nature and dullness) since the days of Harry Kalas shufflinging off this mortal coil. However, yesterday was about watching a game, so it's not like I really cared who was commentating, but when I have to listen to the backpedaling after "innings counts don't matter" and then going into "he's getting a lot of innings" after hearing "he's going to want to finish this game," I just want to vomit.

I'm from the Nolan Ryan school of pitching. Three runs in 6 innings is not a quality start. I'm for guys finishing their games and leaving losers like Dan Wheeler in the breadline or forcing him to find a real job (instead of being the designated innings eater whipping boy, which I'm sure every team needs, but still... I could do that job for far less money). I'm for removing the role of all closers except consistent ones (something that Mariano Rivera has been faltering on lately with his second blown save of the year on Sunday). Even then, I'm for bringing them in when the door needs slammed shut. I'm for multiple innings saves. Giving Bastardo a 1 pitch save for inducing an out... bullshit (in the words of Matthew McConaughey to Kate Hudson - when she wasn't ruining herself being A-Rod's non-Madonna arm candy - then again, with her track record of men, she's not exactly a prize herself).

Nevertheless, if there is no limit to pitches - especially in light of finishing a gem of a game (and I heard this same line with Josh Johnson and Anibal Sanchez's no hitter flirtations), then they should do the deed or lose it all.

Yesterday, the good folks at MLBTV (the baseball fetishist's porn without nipples network) showed game 7 of the 1992 NLCS - Pirates against Braves... the beginning of all that was Atlanta and Barry Bond's stake through the heart to Andy Van Slyke and the rest of the Pittsburgh faithful (no winning seasons in almost 20 years). Drabek gets to the 9th and is dealing, but then the wheels come off. It's a pitcher refusing to let the ball free and doing what it takes to win or lose on his shoulders because he got the team here, and goll dang it... he's reveling in the glory or sulking in defeat. One misplayed ball later, Sid Bream comes home on a single to Bonds, and despite all those surgeries, he's under the glove, and that's it.

But that's a pitcher letting it all hang out.

It's Pedro in 2003 with Grady Little not demanding the ball. If you don't demand it, you have to give in to the pitcher's ego.

And if it's Halladay, there's an ego. One run in with two on in the ninth - to pull the ball is to disrespect your workhorse. Let him win it or lose it. He's got the stuff... even if he's tiring out - or don't bring him out for the 9th. You (Charlie Manuel) are the one who left him hit... now you're the one that should leave him pitch.

But all the same... creating adorable little Muppets that get yanked after 6 innings and therapy headcases that need to be reassured that they're ok even when they're not (Brad Lidge) just shows how far we've come from tough pitchers to move into a world of pampered athletes.

Jesus Monterro

Like Bill O' Reilly, we're always looking out for you, and like his parent company, Fox News, we try to be fair and balanced, so if we say how A-Rod did something good one day (inviting a hero gal to a Yankees game), it's only fair that we mention that he owns a property company called Newport Property Ventures, and because of his inability to fix up the property has some property owners referring to him as a slumlord. So in the spirit of all things Yankees, let's take a look at the Evil Empire and see where they stack up for the year - other than A-Rod who may end up playing with Ricky Vaughn in the California Penal League. First things first, we should see their catcher who is literally older than the dinosaurs. Yes, Jorge Posada will still be catching because Jesus Monterro just wasn't ready to play in the majors - yet - is 39 years old. Looking at some of his other teammates from the Golden Age of Yankees on Fox as slobbered over by Jack Buck, they're not faring much better. Rivera is 41. Jeter is 36. Bernie, Tino, O' Neil, Pettite, Wells, Cone, Stanton, Knoblauch, Justice, Brosius, Spencer, and Nelson are retired. Jason Grimsley is a felon. Jose Canseco and his minimal time in pinstripes isn't far behind him. And that's it... really. There aren't many guys still playing, and there definitely aren't many guys who made up that team. Let's shore up who still is there... Bartolo Colon, who is conservatively weighing in at 185 (they must have given some of his extra girth in years past to CC, who is listed at 290), is there, but this isn't 2002), represents the Yankees' inability to tell time. Hence, Freddy Garcia, Mark Prior, Eric Chavez, and Andruw Jones are all hanging out on the team for opening day. Hell, other than Robinson Cano, there is NO new lifeblood on this team. For that, I'm thankful because I'd like to see the Yankees fall far out of contention quickly this year. An 11-19 start that is never recovered from would be nice. It's time to see some fair weather fans of da Bronx Bombers suffer endlessly that year. But that might just be me. That said, if Joba the Hutt (he of the midge attraction) can't find whatever made him special enough to get his own set of rules, there might only be Phil Hughes and his non-post season upside to spark a youth movement in New York. Imagine that... they'd have to go out and invest in all free agents to have a chance of winning. A second generation Steinbrenner do that? Whoda thunk it?

Alex Rodriguez

How 'bout them Butler Bulldogs?!!
But alas, since this isn't an NCAA basketball blog, we'll stick with the world of baseball and get right back to that.
There's pretty much not anything nice that we can say about Alex Rodriguez here, so if we have to say that we avoided him in YET ANOTHER fantasy draft, that's really not news, but to actually see him doing something nice - invite a 12-year old girl named Julianne Ramirez to a Yankee game because she rescued a 3-year old family friend by using CPR chest compressions - we have to look at the good things that a baseball player can do. Of course, there are other things a baseball player can do - get pissy when he and his movie star girlfriend are on camera in their Super Bowl sky booth or to come up positive for steroids and try to deny it and pass the blame - but alas, Rodriguez and his team killing salary (at least in the Rangers years) did something right this time, and since it's the only time we'll say it all year....
We'll say it.
And we'll take a look at who I did draft in the second of my fantasy drafts. I did draft Yankees, which as I said before is about the nature of this game - not my support for the Evil Empire. I ended up with Mariano Rivera, Robinson Cano, and Brett Gardner. Then again, I also got Roy Halladay and Cliff Lee again. They'll play alongside Nelson Cruz, Ichiro, and Buster Posey as well as Ryan Zimmerman, Jose Bautista, Dan Haren, and Andrew McCutchen (I've got him on both teams as I figure that he'll try to play his way out of Pittsburgh this July). Josh Johnson and Joakim Soria are also on the team, so we're primed and ready for action.
As is Colby Rasmus, who I had another trade request from the same guy who must either worship Rasmus as a god, or he must really know something.
All the same... I'm ready for Thursday and the start of the season.
Let the games begin!

Reggie Jackson

At 6 foot 2, Babe Ruth's 250 pound "official" final weight made him the original Big Sluggi (in contrast, David Ortiz is listed at 6 foot 4 and 230 - an estimate that seems rather kind - all things considered). When "The Sultan of Swat" launched his final 3 home runs, he was too sluggish to chug around the bases, but he still gave the crowd 3 more moonshots to remember him by. They weren't his most famous home runs - the one that he called (or didn't, depending on who is asked, and history supposedly vindicates) stands as that, and while I tend to side with a pitcher who was willing to admit to having a hankering for drilling any player who would do such a thing (Charlie Root), baseball legend is gold - just ask Abner Doubleday.
And Yankee lore is all about famous home runs. Reggie Jackson swung at 3 pitches on the night of October 18, 1977 when he made Burt Hooton, Elias Sosa, and Charlie Hough wish that they never dared to come to the Bronx. Three at bats. Three swings. Three long fly balls into the stands. Gotham was in pandemonium and all was celebration. The straw that stirred the drink had done it and proved to the world that it was he and not Thurmon Munson, then Yankee Captain, who was running the show with a little help from all of the clout that a 5 year $3 million contract (when that meant something - not this inflated era of just above league minimum pay).
But Jackson was what it meant to be in New York, leaving Oakland to come to the Bronx, he made his name over a half of a decade before moving on to California and back to Oakland to finish up his show with 563 jacks and 2597 strikeouts (in this, I'm sure he's hoping that Jim Thome gets 2 more full seasons). That said, strikeouts must be OK in the Big Apple. After all, Alex Rodriguez quietly has 1836 at age 34.
But all things considered, there is only one home run that has ever been hit in the house that Ruth Built (by a Yankee) that really moves me (the Pine Tar incident not withstanding):
Chris Chambliss - The Game 5 1976 walk off home run that ends with Yankee Stadium emptying onto the field so that Chambliss has to shove the fans out of his way.
Granted, I'm a Yankee hater, and I was a Brett fan. Had it not been for that home run, the Royals would have taken the game to extra innings on the strength of Brett's homer. However, the Yankees went to the World Series for the first time since the Maris era, and Steinbrenner had arrived as the owner he was to become.
In this, part of the game is loving the game and seeing its finest moments. Since this happened when I was 5, it wasn't like watching Aaron Boone. Hell, I feel nothing with Bucky Dent - I was 7 at the time and didn't follow baseball, but to lose the game now - to Jeter, A-Rod, or Cano... I'd feel that blast.
Chambliss was a thing of beauty - a more riotous version of Hank Aaron's finest blast without the feeling of "get the hell away from me you sons of bitches."

Curt Flood

Everything I need to know about labor and management, I learned from baseball. In my younger days of college, I read Krakauer and Marx and Thoreau and Zinn and a wide variety of books that talked about what a person should be living and working for, and it didn't matter if it was Into the Wild or Wage and Capital, the answer was always so much clearer by reading about how bad baseball screwed the pooch when it came to the strike that killed the World Series in 1994 (far worse than Shoeless Joe Jackson and crew taking money to blow the series). The NHL and the NBA also screwed their pooches in trying to lockout players for extended periods of time.
Inevitably, it's always about more money, and I begrudge nobody the opportunity to get more money, but I will say that if you're asking, you need good persuasive leverage. Albert Pujols has more chance to get $300 million if he doesn't care where he works because not every company (team) can afford to mortgage the future for him (that's why Washington will pony up big and pay him to bring his perfect citizenship score to the nation's capital and that's why teams in the Texas Rangers' league won't be doing another A-Rod signing).
But the history of baseball and the reserve clause and free agency came a long way since the beginning. It came a long way since Curt Flood told Howard Cosell that he was a "well paid slave" while making $90,000 a year. And perhaps he truly felt that he was owned and marginalized by the Cardinals, but in reality, even in the tumultuous late sixties, America didn't want to hear slavery. We were 100 years removed from Appomatox, and frankly, nobody alive was still putting people to work in the fields. Sure, there was the civil rights movement that had just taken place and we as a country had realized that we weren't quite so kind to African Americans with Jim Crow, but many opinions (though not all then or ever) were changing and we were learning our lessons and growing. We didn't want to be reminded of those days, and for good reasons - it wasn't like we were the slave owners or the framers who let the Constitution be written with slavery as a system that was accepted by the institution that was to be America.
And even if Curt Flood never succeeded and basically destroyed himself in alienation, prostitutes, and alcohol, at home and abroad, he was trying to do what was right and to eliminate the reserve clause with a little help from his friends (Marvin Miller). He led the way to others who had more clout. In that, there was Catfish Hunter and Andy Messersmith and Dave McNally who made it all happen, and now there are 9 players who have or will have made $20million in a year (if they play this season). There are 8 players who have signed contracts for more than $150million for their duration (one twice - A-Rod). And perhaps, that's what it means to be a talented sports star risking health to perform for the crowds.
But that doesn't mean that it resonates with the masses.
So when the NFL decides to lock out its players in the wake of labor issues, we have to take note. When the NFL Player's Association tells young players who are about to be drafted to stay home and give up the night of fame at the start of their show, we raise our ears to hear what is about to be said.
And what do we hear:
It's modern-day slavery, you know? People kind of laugh at that, but there are people working at regular jobs who get treated the same way, too. With all the money … the owners are trying to get a different percentage, and bring in more money. I understand that; these are business-minded people. Of course this is what they are going to want to do. I understand that; it's how they got to where they are now. But as players, we have to stand our ground and say, 'Hey -- without us, there's no football.' There are so many different perspectives from different players, and obviously we're not all on the same page -- I don't know. I don't really see this going to where we'll be without football for a long time; there's too much money lost for the owners. Eventually, I feel that we'll get something done.
And once again... nobody wants to hear the S word. Nobody wants to hear a sports star bitch and moan - no matter what point he makes.
And both sides lose because they aren't close to playing ball with one another to play ball. We don't want the labor arguments - not when we're giving up cash for every government initiative down the pike. Not when we're losing salary due to budget cuts. Not when Japanese people are scared to death that the radiation will give them cancer or kill them outright.
So really, shut the hell up Adrian.
Come take my writing class, and I'll teach you how to truly persuade people.

Mark McGwire

While sitting with my teacher friend Dale, the subject of great baseball players is always bound to come. He’s in his early forties and I’m in my late thirties, so it wouldn’t be wrong to think that we would tend to reflect on the 1970s and 1980s as the glory days of baseball, but for the most part, you would be wrong since the greatest games for us were the ones that we weren’t even alive to see. In no small part, we owe a mega burst of gratitude to Ken Burns for his contributions to the history of baseball because it’s clear to see that Major League Baseball has no respect for the history of its game unless it’s for its fan to buy the latest current slab of what happened this year as a DVD at the end of the season.
If they had any foresight at all, they would instead be focusing on the ability to post lots of historic video of the past online for all generations to see. The fact that any time anything really cool happens, let’s say Jacoby Ellsbury stealing home off of Andy Pettite two years ago, it’s up for a day or so on Youtube and then the backwards thinking bastards that be choose to have it pulled down out of copy right protection concerns. Now, I’m not saying that it has to stay on Youtube, but couldn’t MLB start a pay per view library service so that any time I want to watch something great happen, say watching Albert Pujols jack a Brad Lidge pitch into the wall of Minute Maid Park to keep the Cardinals alive for one more game, I can salivate over the memories of the past?
However, this is impossible, and other than the history of baseball up until 1990, I can’t watch any of the real great players of history focused upon. Thus, to dream about Brooks Robinson throwing deep to first from deep in the corner, I have to go to the third greatest gift that my wife ever gave me, and watch the celluloid footage of that World Series game to see what the heroes of the past were truly like. What will the kids of today have to do in order to watch Dustin Pedroia and Matt Holliday star for the Red Sox and Cardinals? How will these youngsters know why Adrian Gonzalez is or isn’t worth mortgaging the future for in an offseason trade that is supposed to tip the balance of all things?
Simply, they won’t - at least until ESPN or MLBTV say it's so OVER and OVER and OVER again.
And for the same reason that MLB has no concern for its history, we won’t know how “great” the steroids era players were because it’s easy to say that the media was duped into reporting how great they were to make up for the fact that baseball went on strike and killed the World Series in 1994, and their apologies are word enough for the rest of the impressionable youngsters of today to throw away their parents’ baseball card collections, but to still retain hopes in the present - especially that somehow Whiff King Ryan Howard isn’t tainted, and even though Alex Rodriguez is slightly dented, his “apology” and “great play” in the 2009 World Series makes up for everything – unlike Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa, and Mark McGwire who will forever wear their scarlet letters for eternity and then some.
However, for those people willing to look back on baseball history, they would see that Major League Baseball did memorialize Race for the Record on VHS, which is still available for $1.99 on E-bay. Nevertheless, I have my copy and have cherished it since the fall of 1998 when it first came out. I don’t make apologies for owning it. Mark McGwire was and still is my favorite player of all time. Steroids or not, the summer of 1998 was a magical moment that made me who I am. For that, it’s as important to a baseball story in 2011 as it was to a baseball story in that magical summer of a dozen years ago.
And while I liked other players from that time period when I was younger and more concerned about this sport than anything around me, I find the moments of that season to be almost (but not quite) as special as the moments of my marriage and courtship, which took place over the last few years. In that, there was a day that I would have went into a winter of depression having seen the Yankees win, but frankly, I didn’t feel more than a slight sting for what had transpired against Philadelphia’s weak pitching staff (sorry Cliff Lee and game 2 Pedro, you tried) and sorry ass strikeout king (sorry Chase Utley, at least you tried unlike your counterpart) because of the perspective that I have for where my life is with my beautiful wife besides me.
And it's great to have Tim Lincecum take down Cliff Lee, but it's not the same as spending vacations and time in general with my wife. Five years ago, that would have been something, but now there is adult and the memories of the great games of youth that still drive me back to the game for a well-placed second place in my life.
So before this gets all soppy, I should get back to baseball, and say that like Dale, I find it hard to find interest in players the same way that I did when I was younger. Maybe it’s being married and redoing a house and contemplating children and the Arizona / Utah border vacation that I want to get back to for some summer week that keeps me from thinking of some of these players in the way that I did when I was younger, but in part, I don’t find them as magical. Their interviews are generic. The plays were done better by other players in the past, and I’m not ready to believe in anyone new, other than Albert Pujols and Ichiro Suzuki in the way that I once believed in Ryne Sandberg, Paul Molitor, Curt Schilling, Pedro Martinez, and David Ortiz. The play of the past few years and the less than believability that is associated with Dominican birth certificates has come to take its toll on me. For that, this blog is an exercise to getting back to the great players of the past and comparing their deeds to those of the current crop of players that seems to be changing incredibly from what it was even five years ago. Will Tim Lincecum and Jon Lester become the next Walter Johnson, Cy Young, Bob Gibson, Sandy Koufax, or Bob Feller? One can only hope.
As the Ramones sang about their own existential void, probably not the one that wonders if Joe Mauer will ever be the next Josh Gibson and which anonymous rookie could be the next Roger Maris, Honus Wagner, Satchell Paige, or Ted Williams, but the wonder about another time where it feels as good as the magical moments of the past, “Nothing makes any sense, but I still try my hardest. Take my hand. Please help me man. 'Cause I'm looking for something to believe in.”
And for that, I leave you with the words from Eureka, Nevada, my unfinished first novel:

"I woke up and walked to the newspaper, looking at the Sunday sports headlines that said that Mark Mcgwire had been thrown out for disputing a called third strike the day before. The fans were irate and with good cause. The call was rotten and just like the media who were doing there best to put a damper on Big Mac’s quest for 62, the umpires weren’t cutting him any slack either.
Mcgwire’s angst was justifiable. He had been forced to endure the what he did, what he didn’t do and the will he break the record as he stood out as the sole highlight on a horrible St. Louis team. All the while, Sammy Sosa was hitting his homeruns, deferring the questions to Mcgwire and watching his Cubs fight for the division title.
I was tired of the drive. I was tired of the wait. I wanted to be in St. Louis, and that was where I was heading at the moment. I packed up and was off, though I found out that it was an evening game rather than a day game, so I would be driving in slower than I thought that I would be.

If only I was a little farther down the road, then life now would make more sense. At that moment it was all just a highway that took me to St. Louis, a game that would change my life, a perfect moment filled with more positive emotional content than an entire yearlong relationship would leave me. I was destined to be in St. Louis that evening, but first I was off to Mark Twain Lake and museum, which was somewhere in the empty middle of Missouri’s rolling forest land. I walked around, admired the sights, and thought of baseball. I was killing time.
A few hours later, I was at the game. I parked the car and ran up towards Busch Stadium and a sea of red shirts and signs.
“Go Mark Go.”
“Make it a great 1998.”
Even before I got to the game, there were signs such as the Billboard above Highway 70 that listed Mcgwire’s homerun total at the moment. St. Louis was alive with Mcgwire at the moment. The Braves, despite their perennial power in the East Divison of the National League were in town, but their fans were non-existent. This was St. Louis, home of the Cardinals and a special place that was filled with something that couldn’t be described, but rather could be felt in some special way, through some special sense. We were all a part of it and as I walked inside of the Mecca that was Busch Stadium, I knew I was in the presence of something.
Realizing the game was on ESPN that evening, I called my dad, begged him to tape it, and we talked about the trip, the Cardinals and what I was going to do after the game was over. It was a whirlwind of explanations, but only one mattered – get the game on video. I hung up, read my program and waited to watch the game.

From the stadium, you could see the St. Louis skyline. Several hotels and the great Arch line the Mississippi river, which lies off in the distance from Left Field. I took several photos, watched batting practice, and then the Star Spangled Banner played as 44,000 fans took to their feet in a mix of patriotism and a feeling that everything was right again with the national pastime after a horrible strike took out the 1994 season and World Series.
Today, the Cardinals were taking on Kevin Millwood, a hot young pitcher who was bolstered by a strong Atlanta offense that saw 2 homeruns by Andres Galarraga bring their team out to an early lead. I was dejected and angry, but still I watched, un-swayed by the lead that had arisen, and crossed my fingers and prayed to the Baseball God that everything would be made right in the universe.
On Mcgwire’s first at bat, he walked. The second at bat was a single, keeping his day perfect, and then came a double in the third plate appearance. Big Mac was 2 for 2.
When Mark Mcgwire stepped to the plate in the 7th inning, the sky was dark and the flashbulbs exploded as the crowd got to their feet to signal that now was the time. There were 2 men on and the cards were down 7-5. Millwood had been removed, and Dennis Martinez, one of the most dominant Latino pitchers of the time stepped to the mound knowing that he had never let up a hit to the man. His fate was sealed with that announcement on the Busch scoreboard.
After this, the at bat is a haze. I don’t remember what happened prior to it, but Martinez threw, Mcgwire swung and took the ball deep. I was on my feet as was everyone else and we were willing it to go. I didn’t want to believe it would go because it was hit long, since I wasn’t one of those people who ooh at every single long fly ball to centerfield. I was silent in that all of my energy was in my stomach, bottled down, unable to come up, I was breathless and I was focused on that moment, when the ball cleared the fence and I was still silent as I stopped to gather in the fact that my boy had launched a 501-foot blast off of Dennis Martinez to straight away centerfield. This 3 run shot, number 55 on his quest to 70 for the year, a mark that would shatter Roger Maris’ 37 year old record, left ever single one of the 44,051 fans on their feet.
Everything came out and I was screaming in complete jubilation at the moment. For lack of a better word though my mom would understand, it felt orgasmic. It felt like an eternity that the fans cheered and screamed, jumped up and down, gave high fives to each other and hugged. And there I was, hugging and cheering and high fiving strangers as I stood in the magic of a moment that was meant to last for an eternity, but vanished beneath a cloud of sorrow as even this mighty record was forced to give way to another. Yet at that moment, Barry Bonds didn’t matter, since every time I think of that laser beam, I think of my goose bumps and how I wasn’t sure if it was gone, but it was. It was a culmination of a summer spent rooting for heroes, questing for gold and finding it just as Mark did. The tragedies of Roger Maris and my later years wouldn’t and didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except being there in the middle of section 240 and the post-game fireworks as all of the fans scuttled down to the parking lot and drove out, knowing full well that we would be unable to sleep. This was one of those moments in time, and for me, it was so much more.
It was and is the greatest moment of my life, a culmination of a summer, a trip across America in search of all that was and could be, and it was America to me on that late August night."

Manny Ramirez

If the whole Lady Gaga thing wasn't already on overload and annoying as hell (because let's be honest, short of one song - "Speechless" - that she actually plays on, she's a much less talented rip off of Madonna)... we now get Baby Gaga, which is actually breast milk ice cream.
Lady Gaga has threatened to sue the British manufacturers over the flavor of ice cream.
Whether she will be successful or not, the Brits seized the ice cream and tested it to make sure that it was OK for human consumption and found that it is.
In addition, the store owner Matt O' Connor has fired back: "She claims we have 'ridden the coattails' of her reputation. As someone who has plagiarised and recycled on an industrial scale, the entire back catalogue of pop-culture to create her look, music and videos, she might want to re-consider this allegation."
We can only hope that something sane comes of this, but until then, we'll let anyone who wants to pay $22 for this "delicacy" to keep on keeping on. We'll go back to our own lives and contemplate weirdness on terms that we can relate to...
Manny Ramirez being Manny Ramirez.
In this, Manny has already been definitively studied (Bill Simmons did that), but let us say that since he has a new home - Tampa Bay - we have to wish him the best.
Since his days of getting ostracized by my wife for not paying his child support (back at the Jake in Cleveland when he was a member of the Indians), he went on to massive success unparalleled in Boston. He was a grand slam machine (tied with A-Rod for 2nd to Lou Gehrig all time). He was instrumental in winning the World Series in 2004 and 2007. He was David "Big Sluggi" Ortiz's lovable and idiotic sidekick with those really bad dreadlocks. He would blow easy plays in the outfield while making difficult plays. He would urinate inside the Fenway Park scoreboard during a game. He would demand trades, and then, he finally got traded to the Dodgers, who he managed to convince that he could be great... until he got injured and got nailed for steroids and then he basically quit on them, too, after getting $40million for 2 years (and they were basically bidding against themselves for his services), so off he went to the White Sox where he really and truly sucked, but he was still Manny being Manny without the offense - just being offensive.
So now, he's back with the other idiot - Johnny Damon - in Tampa Bay as they both look to resuscitate their careers that pretty much dried up after the glory days of the first decade of the 21st century.
And while there is hope... it's really going to be a case of too little too late unless he breaks the grand slam record or hits .350, and at this point in his career... without sexual enhancers or whatever it it was that he used when and Big Sluggi both seemed to get fingered on the Mitchell Report, there is not going to be a career resuscitation and while Tampa Bay can hope for the best in the year that Carl Crawford walked and they had to bring up rookies and a few older names at league minimum value to keep the few fans that they do have attending, but the reality is...
The weirdness just isn't lovable without production.
I can't wait until the world wakes up to that realization about Lady Gaga as well.

Derek Jeter

See the thing about being a Red Sox fan is that there are constants in life. You always hate the Yankees and you always expect the worst from your team at the end of the year (even after 2004 and 2007) and expect the Yankees to win it all. You hate A-Rod to the point of complete loathing and then when he can come to your team for Manny Ramirez and a potential trade of Nomar Garciaparra, you want it to be done, just so it's done, and then it doesn't happen and he goes to the Yankees and you hate him some more. Then, you love Jason Varitek for cold-cocking A-Rod and how it brings the team together. And even when your team goes down 3-0 to the Yankees and is trailing against Mariano Rivera, you think to yourself, there is still hope BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE even if you expect the worst because you remember Aaron Boone from the year before. And then Dave Roberts swipes second and there's Bill Muellar's hit and Ortiz's shot, and life is good and you're on the way to the first good feeling in New England since 1918.
But even after that, there was still a hatred for New York until the midges swarmed to Joba. Sure, 2007 felt good, but the fact that the curse was truly reversed showed up in Cleveland loud and clear and killed the future of New York.
Now, there's no need to wear the Yankee hater shirts like we used to. There is venom, but it's not the same. Hell, even the good folks at Urban Dictionary aren't getting attempts to coin attacks on Derek Jeter since 2006. It's like the world has gone upside down since he went into the stands to rob Boston of an out.
It's plays like that, which make baseball fans feel good about the game - even if he's robbing your team of an at bat.
And now, I own a Jeter card - the one with Bush and Mickey Mantle in the card as well. It's a classic card and it took the good folks at Topps to come up with it.
If you gave me his rookie card or a SAM bobblehead with his likeness on, I wouldn't spit on it.
A-Rod, yes, but not Jeter. And it's not because I think Cameron Diaz is hot. Maybe in There's Something About Mary, but any woman who touches Justin Timberlake is just... I don't know. We'll stop there because I'm feeling nice today.
But when Derek Jeter doesn't suck, the world is truly upside down.
And perhaps many things are happening in the universe to make things upside down. Maybe it's the fact that Colonel Gadhafi and the myriad of ways to spell his name is now looked at in some circles as being worth protecting as his people riot and take over Libyan cities and military bases. Yes, the world is truly upside down. That said, it's not long for Gadhafi. We expect that he'll be with his son very soon.
But really... Derek Jeter doesn't suck - even after an off season.
Really.
Time to go kill myself or at least wash my mouth out with soap for even muttering such a thing.

David Montgomery

As we walk into the end of Albert Pujols' negotiating period, there are three human beings that I blame for this debacle: David Montgomery (Phillies CEO that signed Ryan Howard), Tom Hicks (the former Rangers CEO that ruined his team by signing A-Rod), and Scott Boras (super agent that gets his players more money than they're worth because baseball money isn't real money and owners aren't smart enough to say when enough is enough). I could blame Marvin Miller and the players unions, but let's be honest; they were a reaction to the Charles Commiskeys of the baseball world who wouldn't pay players what they were worth. I can't blame Jim "Catfish" Hunter since he got what he deserved out of a situation where he could get the money. I can't blame Curt Flood because I wouldn't want to go to a racist city like Philadelphia either and deal with the things that he would have put up with had his trade gone through.
That said, I have to blame someone, so let's blame the guy who signed first baseman Ryan Howard to 5 years and $139million. As soon as the deal was inked out, Albert Pujols became worth twice that much money. Is it any wonder that Tony Larussa would see the baseball union as having the chance to drive up the maximum salary in baseball as it fairly sees Pujols as a $30million+ man? The reality is that Pujols is great. He is St. Louis (the team and the city). He is the greatest and most consistent player in baseball. While we had injury worries a few years ago, it was a blip in the radar from a man who has hit .300 every year. He has 30 home runs and 100 RBIs every year. In 2007, he had a "crappy" year since he didn't get 100 runs (only 99). Every other year of his career, he did. Not including his rookie season of 93 Ks (in almost 700 at bats), he has only had 1 season of over 70 strikeouts (76), which was last year. The man is a machine and he wants $300 million for 10 years - not $200million+ for 8.
Is he worth it? If we had baseball money to pay for it, we'd pay. After all, David Montgomery gave $25million to a guy with 1 season of more home runs (58) than Pujols best total (49). Sure, Pujols has only 3 seasons over 130 RBIs (and never more than 140). Ryan Howard has 4 and 3 of these were league leading totals in the 140s. Is this as much Ryan Howard as batting around Chase Utley, Jimmy Rollins, Shane Victorino, Jason Werth, and Pat Burrell batting in front of him or because he's just a big bopper?
The reality is that Howard's stats aren't that INCREDIBLE other than the magical 2006. He has not hit and totaled 180 strikeouts or more in 4 strikeouts. Last year, he missed this due to injury. He has 1 .300 season in 2006. I'm not saying he's a chump, but I am saying that he's not worth the money he got, but Philadelphia needs a hero, and I guess he'll work if you're so inclined to like the team.
But that said, on a day where Cardinals fans wonder if this will be a triple crown year as Albert walks to Anaheim, New York (either team), Boston, or some other magical team that feels $300 million is chump change... and there will be suitors. This guy for a solid team means division victory and October surprises.
For all of the money given to Matt Holliday (7 years, $120million), not paying Albert... dumb, dumb, dumb. If this is the 1st .400 season since Ted Williams, won't the Cardinals being crying in their Busch beer as Pujols packs his one man show up for a contender? Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Nomar Garciaparra

There's something about thinking that you're worth a lot of money if you're a player. I know that it's the Karl Marx school of labor negotiations, but at the end of the day, all things sell for what someone will pay for them.
Nomar Garciaparra in the offeseason before 2004 was a perfect example. Turning down 4 years at $15million per wasn't a wise business move. He was already the victim of losing nearly ALL of 2001 to injuries and his rejection of solid money contributed a lot to the multi-team deal that took him to the Cubs at the trade deadline and brought Orlando Cabrera into the Red Sox championship fold. Nomar was never the same.
Of course, 2004 started out rough and he finished the year with 321 at bats. The most at bats he ever had after this were 469 in his first year with LA, which netted 20 home runs. That was the only year after 2004 that he hit .300 again. In the end, whether it was tragic pride, Mia Hamm, a bum body, or ancient aliens coming back to intervene with his career, Garciaparra was never the same again.
Turning down 4 and $60million saw him never again make $10million a year again. His final year in Oakland, which was in the words of the Germans, "nicht so gut," saw him step to the plate 169 times to bat .281 with 3 round trippers. The next year, the Red Sox allowed him to sign a 1-day deal to come back and retire from the game with Boston colors on his body and an invitation to ESPN as an announcer.
The moral of the story is simple. A player can be rookie of the year. He can be solid every year down the pike and feel he is worth tons of cash, but there comes a point where a player has to be thankful and make the deal with Howie Mandel before the wrong case is picked. A player can take the odds and go for more, but the reality is that the banker has gotten stingy and there aren't as many good cases as bad cases.
Sometimes, the answer is to walk out of the room ahead instead of King of the Hill.
Somehow, the Yankees paid tons for A-Rod when he opted out early, and let's be honest... 2 years not hitting .300 (but hooking up with Cameron Diaz and Kate Hudson and a lot of love for Madonna despite divorcing his wife) and only hitting 30 home runs each year when he's being paid to hit 150 more than the 613 he has at the end of the season aren't good. Let's be honest, his injuries are getting more frequent as well. He's not the high 600s and low 700 at bats guy that he was. It would be safe to say that he doesn't get 700 homers. I'd even put money on not passing Willie Mays, but I wouldn't put a lot on it.
The reality is that Babe Ruth is safe from him. So is Hank Aaron.
Barry Bonds has nothing to worry about.
And looking back, Ken Griffey Jr. was the answer to beating Hank Aaron before injuries (to both him and McGwire) and BALCO changed the landscape of baseball forever. A-Rod was supposed to be the boy anointed, but steroids and starlets changed his world, too. For Griffey, his first 10 years saw him hit 2/3 of his home runs. The last over half of his career was 1/3 of his production. A-Rod put up some sick numbers for his first 10 years, and so has Albert Pujols (408), but 10 years isn't a career though it puts a person in the Hall of Fame.
Now, it's down to Albert and Albert alone to rescue the home run record from its taint. It will be the career numbers and the effect of them that will make or break the sport I love.
Let's hope that St. Louis comes to realize this sooner than later and doesn't get worried about the burn that could happen. And let's hope equally that Pujols realizes that sometimes, hometown discounts go further than an extra $100 million.

Michael Young

Another day... no money or contract from St. Louis showing love to Albert Pujols. We remain completely confused, but there are so many things we are completely confused about.
The week rolls on and Michael Young lays the smack down on the team that he kept afloat for years after the owners did the team completely wrong with that inflated A-Rod contract that could only go one way (to the Big Apple after the financial hardships imploded the team once and for all), but then someone had to rebuild the team completely to get to the World Series via their first playoff victory EVER after years of trying and years of Yankees slam dunks. That was Michael Young who rose to solid status and showed he was a leader, but then there was Adrian Beltre, an opportunist who is known to do well in contract years, and he was getting 6 years for the potential that he might do OK, and perhaps he will, but where is the love as the Black Eyed Peas sang on Sunday night?
Where is it?
This is a man who now feels "misled and manipulated" by his team - not once, but multiple times.
Where is the love in that?
Sure, there's 3 years at $16million per for a 34 year old journeyman who moved positions every time that he was asked to. He mastered his position and played hard to bring glory to the Lone Star state. But when it all comes down to it, 2nd best makes a team assess what it can do to get it all. If you ask us, they screwed the pooch by choosing Beltre. Tons of money for a sometimes really good, sometimes OK player and the money that will have to be absorbed when Young gets shuttled elsewhere.
And perhaps the team will be back. They've got some youthful pitchers and they're in a weak division, but can they take the Sox or the Rays? Methinks, no, but alas, that's just me being careful with the money I wouldn't bet on the Rangers' options this October.
In the end, there are a lot of options for waiving that no trade contract, but the reporters seem to be talking about moving from the AL West to the NL West and helping the rebuilding youth movement in Denver that is the Rockies. That would be nice, but until then...
The divorce continues with lots of bad blood to follow.
Is this a sign for St. Louis and Albert? One week and counting.

Andy Pettite

On the eve of Roger Clemens going to testify against his best buddy and steroids confidante Andy Pettite, I have to say that I have NEVER felt like Pettite was worth anything as a pitcher - especially with Hall of Fame consideration. I can remember knowing that he was coming into game 6 in the 2001 World Series, and I knew he was done for. Within 3 innings, the D-Backs were up 12-0 and were headed for that magical game 7.
I can remember hearing rumors of trading Pettite to the Cardinals a decade ago. I was so glad that he never came. First and foremost, he was a Yankee, but at best, he was a mirage propped up by the Bronx in much the same way the A's pitchers were propped up in Oakland and the Braves pitchers were propped up in their years in Atlanta.
He was never the reliable go to guy except in the years that the Yankees had nothing else to give. When he went to Houston, he was good, but he wasn't great. When it counted, they couldn't beat the White Sox, but I can't say as I remember much of that World Series since I refused to watch the battle of the Little Yankees (Clemens and Pettite vs. Contreras and El Dookie) with AJ Pierzynski thrown in for extra loathing. Sure, it was nice that the whole Black Sox thing was over and that Ozzie Guillen won one, but other than to make people understand how Shoeless Joe Jackson got screwed over, there wasn't anything to be said for that World Series other than I'm glad Pettite and Clemens steroid confusion duo didn't get rings.
Sure, he was good for a lot of innings most years, but because a person stays healthy and has an offensive juggernaut behind them and a solid bullpen after them doesn't mean that all wins are created equally. Need proof? Nolan Ryan in 1981 went 11-5 with a 1.69 ERA. How can that ERA not win every game? In his time with the Angels, he had losing seasons with an ERA just over 3.00. In 1973, 1974, and 1977, he was top 3 in Cy Young Award voting and had 16 losses in EACH season. With a winning team, he wins 30 times in each year.
But alas, we see Andy Pettite has 240 wins and we think this guy could be heading for the Hall of Fame. To that, I say, "Hooey!"
Since the Yankees are as desperate for pitching, they are positively desperate and scared stiff to bring Pettite back or find themselves going back to the late 80s and early 90s. To scare the YES Network all the more, he still can't make up his mind, and in some ways, we hope he does come back just so he can be there to get knocked around in his old age once again and come out of it without a ring.
Sure, there were those magic moments when Andy Pettite admitted his guilt in the whole Mitchell List thing, but there was something that just summed up all of his wins and that extra oomph that his average self gave. It wasn't aura and mystique.
But if a $12million from the Yankees waiting on a table believes it is, so be it. Let them believe. The division is no longer theirs. The Red Sox can say all of the right things, but the reality is that now more than ever, the ancient and aging Yankees don't have one more hurrah left in them. It's over. They're done like fried chicken.
Look at the Yankees... Chamberlain was all hype. Posada is geriatric. Burnett is over-priced and erratic. Phil Hughes is definitely not playoff ready. A-Rod is in decline. This leaves them with CC's enormous waistline... I mean price tag for an above average pitcher. The same can be said for Teixara's bat. Jeter is at the end of his run. Robinson Cano is positively dangerous. Mariano Rivera can't be counted out until he counts himself out, and well, the rest are average.
Can they compete against the Red Sox? Don't think so.
Can they compete against a young Rays team that has pride and direction and a lot of hope? We'll see on that end, but...
If the Yankees want to take their chances on the hope of Andy Pettite, just let them. It's time to see the Yankees in the cellar again, which will be BEE-YOU-TEE-FULL.

Derek Jeter

Back in the day, I never got Will Ferrell. He was the moron who did Saturday Night Live skits like the cheerleaders and the lovers, and I just found him to be horribly annoying. I saw Old School when it first came out and I didn't like it at all, but in hindsight, I was just on a really bad Match Dot Com date, and I have since watched it again and again, and I really liked it, but that was a gap in time, and I'm getting ahead of myself. Before that and somewhere in being made to watch Anchorman twice, I found some of it amusing, but by the end, I was bored again, and I refused to watch him for the longest time.
Then, I met my wife and she made me watch Elf, which may be the greatest Christmas movie ever. Christmas is finally here when I get to watch Buddy the Elf make his way to New York City to find his dad and have snowball fights and Christmas decorating extravaganzas and shower room singing with Zooey Deschanel (and who doesn't want that?).
Megamind, which was the best animation movie of 2010 - easily - featured the existential dilemma of being an arch villain to Brad Pitt's Metroman, who ended up not being able to be a villain because his dastardly plans to kill him finally succeeded. Somehow, he fell in love with Tina Fey's Roxanne Ritchie who fell back in love with him and got loved by the world after he defeated Jonah Hill (is that guy everywhere, or is it me?). As a lover of animated and PIXAR movies, I have to say I was rolling on the floor more than the bevy of nieces and nephews that we took to the movies that day.
And there are good movies and there are animated voices and there are bit parts and there are movies that are phoned in, and perhaps nowhere is that more noticeable than in The Other Guys, which also stars Mark Wahlberg, a great actor who also phones in the movie - save the part with Derek Jeter. If you don't want the part given away, read no further, but to see the cameo of Wahlberg as a former superstar cop being groomed for homicide who now rides a desk because he shot Jeter in a dark hallway before Game 7 of the World Series is perhaps the funniest scene imaginable. Afterward, the running gag of Wahlberg having shot Jeter and how that plays out is more than enough to make the movie worth your while, but it just isn't something worth owning.
That being said, once again, Derek Jeter, the hated Yankee that he is, plays his personality and star perfectly and does nothing wrong ("he's a bi-racial angel") unlike his arch nemesis on his right side of the infield ("it should have been A-Rod") stands as the potential of all things that a sports star can be - especially in New York.
After reading how Roger Maris was treated during his playing career and the majority of his life until George Steinbrenner of all people made every sincere gesture of respect and resuscitation to pull Maris out of the obscure doghouse of the past to bring him to Yankee Stadium and Monument Park, where he belonged is quite a powerful image. Jeter was handled perfectly and he handled himself perfectly.
For as much as I hate the Yankees (and I do), I find it harder and harder to hate Jeter - especially after he took that shot to the face catching the foul ball that beat the Red Sox in a meaningless all or nothing mid summer "classic." Sure, I'll hate on him in the playoffs, but I have had him on my fantasy team. Is that me going soft? Is it something only marriage could do? Marrying my wife still wouldn't have me wear a Yankees hat or shirt. Hell, I'd rather fall down a flight of stairs than ever go through that horrible scenario, but alas... I digress.
Somewhere in the image of Jeter rolling on the tunnel floor and calling Mark Wahlberg a dick, there is a hilarious moment that represents this generation of baseball perfectly. Who would have thought that all it would take to make it happen was a Will Ferrell movie?