It's the first day of classes, and I always start off telling my students that they can A out of the class (leave when they have an A for the class - even if it's a couple of days early), but no student who has ever tried to "A out" has actually achieved it - at least of thoese students telling me that they're going to do it. Usually, I tell them that they're eligible to make it happen, and then, it happens, but alas...
In real life, Lebron James predicted that they Heat would win 8 championships, but unfortunately, they lost the first one last night to the Mavericks: 105-95. Thus, just like a guy who once missed 9 of the first 11 classes, neither one did what was predicted.
Nobody predicted that the Indians would be in first place as they've been for the early part of this season. It just happened. While they phoned in the past few weeks, a period that ended with a Yankee sweep (after the Yankees had their hats handed to them by the Red Sox the previous 3 games), they have been largely overachieving, and for that, Cleveland shouldn't be throwing themselves into Lake Erie just yet.
My yearly preview of choice (Athalon) expressed their season in terms of good news and bad news. The good was that they "aren't likely to finish in 4th place once again." However, the bad news was that they "appear headed for last place in the American League Central - one spot below the seemingly always rebuilding Royals. The Indians are too young and have too many questions to be considered anything but a doormat."
Despite being 1-9 in their last 10, they are still 34-29 (33-20 was just a crazy start). They're still in first as the Tigers lost yesterday, too. And while they have one more game against the Yankees, this one is against AJ Burnett, who quite frankly has been lousy as of late, so if the Tribe can just jump all over him quickly with an Asdrubal Cabrerra punch, we can see good things.
But that said, doing something like Fausto Carmona plunking Mark Teixera after all of the Red Sox pitchers used the Yankees for target practice (and the Big Papi plunk back) isn't going to reverse the course of this sinking ship. What is going to help is having Shin Soo Choo hit something other than the bottle. The Indians also need Carlos Santana making hits again.
Justin Masterson had aspirations and hopes, and he can still restore them as can Josh Tomlin and Mitch Talbot. And while we believe in Fausto Carmona less than Zach Greinke (the name says it all - who did he sell his soul to in order to move out from under the weight of that Big Papi home run on July 31, 2006?), we have to believe that there is potential for him to be better than the worst of the regular Indians pitchers at this point.
So for Manny Acta to do nothing right now when it comes to defending his team against the Yankees is just wrong. Bill Veeck put it best: "Hating the Yankees isn't part of my act. It is one of those exquisite times when life and art are in perfect conjunction." We agree, and for the fact that they're a halfass mirage of what they used to be (something the Red Sox have been making quite clear in all of their games together this year except one), it's time to stop pretending that this longball and Jeter's quest for 3,000 is making them contenders. The gig is over, and it was nice while it lasted, but now that a way over-performing Bartolo Colon is out, how long can Granderson and Teixera achieve all for the nothing on that roster?
But in the end, it's about wanting to be winners if the option is there. If you're going to contend in September instead of pretend in May, then rise up and want it.
If not, go home. Besides, the Cuyahoga Valley is pretty this time of year.
Showing posts with label Zach Greinke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zach Greinke. Show all posts
Monday, June 13, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Prince Fielder
There's this whole thing with Tony Larussa and his longevity as a manager of the Cardinals (and the A's and the White Sox) that just makes me want to say... I hate that guy.
From Friday night, his 5,000th career game, to Sunday, Larussa did nothing to lead the Cardinals to victory. Instead, he led the Brewers to first place, and the NL Central is now wide open for a long hot summer of who wants the pennant most (or who wants to crap the bed the least).
Maybe this can be contributed to Albert Pujols not setting the stars in the sky with 3 home run games, but part of it is also the fact that Chris Carpenter can't buy a win and Jake Westrbook's ERA isn't pretty at all. Maybe we can say that the Brewers want it more. Who knows, but if you ask me, I choose to blame it on the Cardinals not choosing to jettison Larussa into the jungles of South America in the hope that he can find some new animal friends and not find his way back to the state of Missouri ever again. But alas, that's just me.
Maybe it's the fact that Prince Fielder was 3/7 in the series with 2 home runs and 4 walks. He's definitely doing his best to sell potential for free agency with a .305 batting average and 19 home runs and 58 RBIs for the Brew Crew, who won't be trying to afford him unless he brings them to some kind of wayback machine repeat of the 1982 team (is he really Cecil Cooper to Ryan Braun's Robin Yount?).
And there is hope in the land of cheese, Laverne & Shirley, beer, and the Packers, but it's a long season and Zach Greinke and Shaun Marcum will have to work well with Yovani Gallardo if there is to be hope in Wisconsin. Perhaps if Rickie Weeks doesn't strike out so much...
But for Fielder, there is the fact that his father hit 50 home runs in a season (despite those 182 Ks that went with that brilliant 1990 offensive explosioin), and he was always the heir apparent, and for good cause. His dad smacked 300 home runs at a time that it still meant something. Now, it's just chump change since all the kids are doing it, but Prince's girth has propelled him to do some nice things with the ball (211 from 2005 to now, which includes 50 in 2007).
However, we can't see the later numbers translating that big at the bank - though someone will pay, especially if they lose out on the Albert Pujols sweepstakes.
For Prince, it's all about what the Brewers do against the Cardinals. Sure, they've gone on to October baseball, but they've gone nowhere with it. If they can this year... and if he can avenge not getting Ryan Braun bank, he can take his signing arm and make it all right.
And at the end of the day, isn't that what it's about anyway?
From Friday night, his 5,000th career game, to Sunday, Larussa did nothing to lead the Cardinals to victory. Instead, he led the Brewers to first place, and the NL Central is now wide open for a long hot summer of who wants the pennant most (or who wants to crap the bed the least).
Maybe this can be contributed to Albert Pujols not setting the stars in the sky with 3 home run games, but part of it is also the fact that Chris Carpenter can't buy a win and Jake Westrbook's ERA isn't pretty at all. Maybe we can say that the Brewers want it more. Who knows, but if you ask me, I choose to blame it on the Cardinals not choosing to jettison Larussa into the jungles of South America in the hope that he can find some new animal friends and not find his way back to the state of Missouri ever again. But alas, that's just me.
Maybe it's the fact that Prince Fielder was 3/7 in the series with 2 home runs and 4 walks. He's definitely doing his best to sell potential for free agency with a .305 batting average and 19 home runs and 58 RBIs for the Brew Crew, who won't be trying to afford him unless he brings them to some kind of wayback machine repeat of the 1982 team (is he really Cecil Cooper to Ryan Braun's Robin Yount?).
And there is hope in the land of cheese, Laverne & Shirley, beer, and the Packers, but it's a long season and Zach Greinke and Shaun Marcum will have to work well with Yovani Gallardo if there is to be hope in Wisconsin. Perhaps if Rickie Weeks doesn't strike out so much...
But for Fielder, there is the fact that his father hit 50 home runs in a season (despite those 182 Ks that went with that brilliant 1990 offensive explosioin), and he was always the heir apparent, and for good cause. His dad smacked 300 home runs at a time that it still meant something. Now, it's just chump change since all the kids are doing it, but Prince's girth has propelled him to do some nice things with the ball (211 from 2005 to now, which includes 50 in 2007).
However, we can't see the later numbers translating that big at the bank - though someone will pay, especially if they lose out on the Albert Pujols sweepstakes.
For Prince, it's all about what the Brewers do against the Cardinals. Sure, they've gone on to October baseball, but they've gone nowhere with it. If they can this year... and if he can avenge not getting Ryan Braun bank, he can take his signing arm and make it all right.
And at the end of the day, isn't that what it's about anyway?
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Aaron Boone
You think we'd learn. You think Aaron Boone would have taught us all what it means to get into a pick up basketball game and get injured and lose his contract because he was playing for the Yankees and he wasn't making much, and frankly, with that, he was quite expendable. And let's not even think about the idea of doing something so wreckless and stupid that it just jeopardizes EVERYTHING that he and the team could be without an instant of showing that he had ACTUALLY THOUGHT ABOUT WHAT HE WAS DOING. I'm sure just reminiscing about the incident would make Derek Jeter and guys like him who waited their whole life to wear pinstripes and go to the playoffs cringe in horror. Fortunately,
But alas...
You think we'd learn. You think Ben Roethlisberger would have taught us that we can't ride our motorcycles helmetless if our team is counting on us, but alas, he never learned either.
And so it shouldn't be a shock that the Great White Nope of Milwaukee (registered trademark, but because we just don't believe) has gone and shot himself and an entire state full of Cheeseheaded beer drinkers who still remember the good ol' days of Harvey's Wallbangers and Laverne and Shirley in the foot or should I say feet because he's making $13.5million per season for the next 2 seasons and his success will keep Prince Fielder in town (hopefully) or the lack thereof will drive him to Anaheim or some other city in need of a big bopping designated hitter or first basemen (at Prince's weight, he'll be a DH like his daddy before too long).
But with a broken rib from his dalliance at trying to be like Lebron James, he'll be on the DH at the start of the season. Will he come back healthy and ready? Will his social anxiety disorder and depression be affected?
Let's just say that if I was Mark Attanasio today and I was thinking about how much money and faith and hope I just installed into my ace and how he paid me back, I'd be thinking of getting 70cents on the dollar and shipping him to some other team in the hope that I could build up for the future because even if I had to keep him, I surely wouldn't keep him around to extend the contract ad infinitum.
And the injuries and the hopes and dreams keep right on rolling in the land of cactuses and the world of grapefruits as we get closer and closer to day 1.
But alas...
You think we'd learn. You think Ben Roethlisberger would have taught us that we can't ride our motorcycles helmetless if our team is counting on us, but alas, he never learned either.
And so it shouldn't be a shock that the Great White Nope of Milwaukee (registered trademark, but because we just don't believe) has gone and shot himself and an entire state full of Cheeseheaded beer drinkers who still remember the good ol' days of Harvey's Wallbangers and Laverne and Shirley in the foot or should I say feet because he's making $13.5million per season for the next 2 seasons and his success will keep Prince Fielder in town (hopefully) or the lack thereof will drive him to Anaheim or some other city in need of a big bopping designated hitter or first basemen (at Prince's weight, he'll be a DH like his daddy before too long).
But with a broken rib from his dalliance at trying to be like Lebron James, he'll be on the DH at the start of the season. Will he come back healthy and ready? Will his social anxiety disorder and depression be affected?
Let's just say that if I was Mark Attanasio today and I was thinking about how much money and faith and hope I just installed into my ace and how he paid me back, I'd be thinking of getting 70cents on the dollar and shipping him to some other team in the hope that I could build up for the future because even if I had to keep him, I surely wouldn't keep him around to extend the contract ad infinitum.
And the injuries and the hopes and dreams keep right on rolling in the land of cactuses and the world of grapefruits as we get closer and closer to day 1.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Zach Greinke
Like Mark McGwire, I don't believe in the magic of steroids to help someone hit home runs (but I do know that they help people recover and gain strength to play continuously),
I don't believe in I-ching - I've always wished that I could be in line with the Tao Te Ching, but alas... these are new years revelations.
I don't believe in Bible-thumping in the form of pointing to Heaven after a home run. It's a sports moment not divine revelation.
I don't believe in tarot and anything else that seems like it would be something associated with Ms. Cleo. That said, I believe in baseball superstitions - as long as they don't slow down the game.
I don't believe in Hitler and I have no respect for Marge Schott and those who do.
I don't believe in trades for Ivan DeJesus since they mean giving up Larry Bowa, and frankly, that's not a smart move.
I don't believe in Adam Kennedy as my day to day second basemen. He's just not what I want from my starting second baseman, and his stats prove it.
I don't believe in Buddha or starting pitchers who look like his twin.
I don't believe in mantra in the form of slogans thrown up on the Jumbotron in order to get fans to will their team to victory. That said, I do believe in rally monkeys and thundersticks, but once again, I have no use for waving towels. They're really cheap looking.
I don't believe in Gita. It's not like I'm Pedro Cerrano letting Jobu know what's what ("I'm pissed off now, Jobu. Look, I go to you. I stick up for you. You don't help me now. I say "Fuck you," Jobu, I do it myself. "), it's just that I've never really been one for trendy eastern religions.
I don't believe in yoga as an answer to baseball longevity. Ask Barry Zito if you don't believe me.
I don't believe in kings, who stay too long as the baseball commissioner and eventually just find their way into the position permanently since it just seems easier that way.
I don't believe in Elvis Andrus, and if you look, his World Series stats back me up on that.
I don't believe in the innocence of Don Zimmer, man, but I think Pedro could have handled that situation a little better.
I don't believe in Beatles in the way that some people do, but I will say that they've got some really great songs. The medley of songs from "Because" to "The End" stands out as does "Strawberry Fields."
I just believe in me,
Just my wife Heather and me...
And if I was John Lennon writing this song now, I would add that I don't believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy (the real life one or the one the Rock played), the Easter Bunny (though that took some convincing since I once saw a shadow of "him" on Easter Eve at age 5), the power of Obama to get anything done, or Zach Greinke.
The Brewers shouldn't either. One great, one good, and a few average ones don't make someone the great white hope of baseball - especially when they force the team to get masseuses and Stuart Smalley to help cope with confidence and anxiety problems on the big stage.
Didn't you people learn anything from Philadelphia and Houston's debacles with Brad Lidge?
That said, we should probably focus more on the positive of what to believe in. For that, I give you Crash Davis:
"Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."
I don't believe in I-ching - I've always wished that I could be in line with the Tao Te Ching, but alas... these are new years revelations.
I don't believe in Bible-thumping in the form of pointing to Heaven after a home run. It's a sports moment not divine revelation.
I don't believe in tarot and anything else that seems like it would be something associated with Ms. Cleo. That said, I believe in baseball superstitions - as long as they don't slow down the game.
I don't believe in Hitler and I have no respect for Marge Schott and those who do.
I don't believe in trades for Ivan DeJesus since they mean giving up Larry Bowa, and frankly, that's not a smart move.
I don't believe in Adam Kennedy as my day to day second basemen. He's just not what I want from my starting second baseman, and his stats prove it.
I don't believe in Buddha or starting pitchers who look like his twin.
I don't believe in mantra in the form of slogans thrown up on the Jumbotron in order to get fans to will their team to victory. That said, I do believe in rally monkeys and thundersticks, but once again, I have no use for waving towels. They're really cheap looking.
I don't believe in Gita. It's not like I'm Pedro Cerrano letting Jobu know what's what ("I'm pissed off now, Jobu. Look, I go to you. I stick up for you. You don't help me now. I say "Fuck you," Jobu, I do it myself. "), it's just that I've never really been one for trendy eastern religions.
I don't believe in yoga as an answer to baseball longevity. Ask Barry Zito if you don't believe me.
I don't believe in kings, who stay too long as the baseball commissioner and eventually just find their way into the position permanently since it just seems easier that way.
I don't believe in Elvis Andrus, and if you look, his World Series stats back me up on that.
I don't believe in the innocence of Don Zimmer, man, but I think Pedro could have handled that situation a little better.
I don't believe in Beatles in the way that some people do, but I will say that they've got some really great songs. The medley of songs from "Because" to "The End" stands out as does "Strawberry Fields."
I just believe in me,
Just my wife Heather and me...
And if I was John Lennon writing this song now, I would add that I don't believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy (the real life one or the one the Rock played), the Easter Bunny (though that took some convincing since I once saw a shadow of "him" on Easter Eve at age 5), the power of Obama to get anything done, or Zach Greinke.
The Brewers shouldn't either. One great, one good, and a few average ones don't make someone the great white hope of baseball - especially when they force the team to get masseuses and Stuart Smalley to help cope with confidence and anxiety problems on the big stage.
Didn't you people learn anything from Philadelphia and Houston's debacles with Brad Lidge?
That said, we should probably focus more on the positive of what to believe in. For that, I give you Crash Davis:
"Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."
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