Posts Tagged ‘Boston Red Sox’

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Why I Couldn’t Care Less About Theo Epstein Leaving

October 26, 2011

Boy Wonder. The Man Who Broke the Curse. The Mastermind. Inventor of the “Scouting and Player Development Machine.” Genius.

However you liked to refer to Theo Epstein over the past ten years, his era in Boston has ended in a shitstorm that I think gives the best nickname of them all: Houdini. Did this guy who just oversaw the biggest collapse in regular season baseball history really just sign a five year, 18.5 million dollar contract to run the Cubs? The man who signed John Lackey to a five-year, $82.5 million contract, only to see Lackey post the worst season of any starter in baseball history (literally) two season later, not only didn’t get fired, but he also got a promotion?! The genius who signed Carl Crawford, to patrol the smallest left field in baseball… then have him bat 7th because we already had our top six hitters in the lineup, to a seven-year $142 million contract not only watched Crawford put up a sub-.300 on-base percentage, but also got a promotion in job title? Am I the only one who feels like this…

If you agree this makes less sense than Helen Keller riding a bicycle in Times Square, keep reading. Otherwise, you’re probably a delusional Cubs fan, and I’d recommend you continue this blissful fit of ignorance and stop reading. But before you go, here’s this peace offering…

Melanie Iglesias does Youtube flipbook videos. I don't know what that means either, but you should watch them.

Somehow, Theo Epstein is made of teflon in the baseball world. He quit on the Red Sox in 2005 citing his “heart and soul” wasn’t into the job when he got offered a three year $4.5 million deal. This guy who supposedly lived and died with the Red Sox growing up in Brookline, Mass. didn’t have his heart and soul in running the team?! I don’t even need to explain how absurd this is. Then, for whatever reason, ownership didn’t get pissed and move on from the spoiled brat who ditched town in a Gorilla suit: THEY BEGGED HIM TO RETURN.

In the mean time, Theo’s replacement at the time (and replacement now) Ben Cherington, swung the deal that won the Red Sox the 2007 World Series when he traded top prospects Hanley Ramirez and Anibal Sanchez for Josh Beckett and Mike Lowell. Lowell won the MVP of that World Series, and Beckett was the team’s best pitcher. Epstein is on record as saying he wouldn’t have made that deal, which is fine. We wouldn’t have won that World Series, either, though.

Now, after the epic collapse, a manager who lost control of his team, and a team that committed mutiny worse than Jack Sparrow’s crew, Epstein moves to a team that hasn’t won a World Series since 1908. We are all about to find out if the boy really is a genius. The Cubs are an absolute mess right now. They just won 71 games, they have no star players, a bunch of bad contracts and a weak minor league system. When Theo took over in 2002, the Red Sox had a nucleus of players left behind that carried the team within an inning of the 2003 World Series. With some minor tweaks, a lucky free agent signing (David Ortiz) and a Curt Schilling falling in his lap, the Red Sox finally broke the Babe’s curse the following season. If the Cubs can play .500 ball this year, it’s an enormous success.

What everybody was thinking...

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Can Red Sox Play Game #163?

September 27, 2011

Heidi Watney just finished fumbling her way through another post-game interview. The Red Sox star of the game just finished answering her muddled, predictable questions: each one ending in some form of “how were you able to do that.” None of this is really news (other than the fact there was a Red Sox star of the game, implying a win). The story here is the player answering those questions. No, Jacoby Ellsbury did not get asked to talk, even though he hit ANOTHER home run, this time giving the Sox a 2-1 lead. Yes, Heidi tossed softball questions to a Yale product who probably could have better explained the current world economic crisis: rookie catcher Ryan Lavarnway.

Just mute it and enjoy.

Ryan WHO!? La-varn-way. Phonetic. Phenomenal. Phuckin’ clutch. Lavarnway is the Red Sox reigning two-time Minor League Offensive Player of the Year. But you couldn’t predict this one. Early in the game Francona had a soundbyte explaining his decision to go with Lavarnway over banged up starter Jarrod Saltalamacchia: “maybe he’ll run into one. Otherwise, we’ve got Salty to finish off the game.” Ahh Terry, you sly fox. You meant run into one or TWO. As in Lavarnway would clobber not one but two (not Green, we’re in Baltimore) MONSTER home runs. The first a three run homer to provide a 5-1 lead. The second an insurance run making it 8-4 at the time, ended up being the difference in an 8-7 win in which Sox relievers tried as hard as they possibly could to blow the game.

So now, the Red Sox live to see another day. They actually trailed the Rays by 1/2 a game in the win column tonight for about an hour. Red Sox ace Jon Lester is on the mound tomorrow. Beyond that, nobody knows what to expect from these Red Sox. The team who started the year 0-6, is trying to finish the regular season on a two-game win streak, something they haven’t had since August. The win tomorrow will only ensure a one game playoff with the Rays. And as sure as Alfredo Aceves’ arm (three straight appearances, 3 2/3 innings tonight) is held together with toothpicks, crazy glue, rubber bands and Bengay, that one-game playoff WILL happen if the Red Sox win. There’s no way the Rays go out tomorrow and lose to the Yankees spring training split squad team. The Yankees threw their top four relievers in the loss tonight, so none will be available tomorrow. They earned that rest. All the Rays have to do is beat up on second or third rate pitching. Red Sox fans earned a pacemaker and some Zantacs in watching a month with just six wins, and a nine game lead erased.

But what about that one game playoff? Who would even be pitching? The Rays will have lefty phenom Matt Moore, who has only struck out 15 batters in 28 outs. The Red Sox? Reports today said they were looking into trading for a guy to start one game, then not even be available for the playoffs. Desperate? That’s worse than taking your cousin to prom. It’s having your mom PAY your cousin to go to prom with you. For $161 million this season, that’s what the Red Sox money will get them. That, or John Lackey. Now, the cousin coming to prom doesn’t look so bad, does it?

What’s going to happen? Who knows. The Red Sox might go out and have a classic double figure scoring day and the Rays could get shutout by no names. That’s the beauty of baseball. My money’s on a one-game playoff in Tampa Bay. Rookie phenom versus disgruntled mouth-breather with the highest single season ERA in Red Sox history (Lackey). Advantage: Rays

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Stanley Cup Finals Game 7 Need-to-Know

June 15, 2011

By now, you’ve been gripped by the Stanley Cup finals if you’re living in New England and have a pulse. Growing up a New England sports fan, I root for every hometown team, and the Bruins have always been “The Thing” in the Fantastic 4. You know about them, but they don’t really fit in, they don’t have a very cool power (other than being turned into a human rock), and the other three steal most of the glory. This year, though, the Bruins are the team who is making the magical playoff run. Much like the Patriots of ’01, the Celtics of ’08 or even the Red Sox of ’04 and ’07, the region has shifted all of its focus to a foreign place in June: the ice. I won’t sit here and berate fans who just recently jumped on the bandwagon. I myself am a pink hat Bruin fan. However, I started watching in the first round of the playoffs and have watched every game since (except for the game 7 against Tampa Bay when I was in a Brooklyn Law apartment complex with no Versus, and had to watch on ESPN gametracker). While the Red Sox are like a wife, the Celtics are like a steady girlfriend, and the Patriots are like that smoking hot hook-up you get on weekends all the time, the Bruins, in these playoffs, have been my one night stand. I hardly knew more than their names before the playoffs started, and after these playoffs I’ll go right back to my wife, but for this one time, I’m cheating, and fully invested in the moment. So, since I know more about sports than you, I’ll tell you all you need to know about this series, from the plots to the players, as we head into tonight’s deciding game 7 (oh, and here’s a potential one night if I had to cheat on my hypothetical wife).

Diora Baird: You remember her from when she flopped onto the bed in the opening Wedding Crashers montage. Like I said, amazing one night stand.

HOME ICE ADVANTAGE:

In six games thus far in the series, the home team has won every game. The Bruins won their home games by a combined score of 17-3. Fortunately, the Canucks have looked far more vulnerable at home, with just a 5-2 goal advantage. Unfortunately, that means the Bs have scored just twice in three games north of the border. Fortunately, none of this makes any sense, the Bruins have been the clear-cut better team, and at some point, you figure one of those fluky one goal games will finally go in the Bruins favor. If the Bs can get an early lead tonight, look out. Roberto Luongo has been, in a word, a shit sandwich once he gives up one goal…

ROBERTO LUONGO

The Italian-Canadian sleezeball has looked like Swiss cheese in Boston, and a block of Cheddar in Vancouver. Okay, so I’m not sure if the block of cheddar analogy made sense, but go with it. The hilarious part is after he gave up 12 goals in two games, he won 1-0 in game 5 and ripped Tim Thomas for the goal he allowed, saying “it would have been an easy save for me.” The Bruins came out in game 6 and scored 3 goals in 8 minutes to chase Luongo to the bench. I would have said showers, but he didn’t have enough time on the ice to require more than an Axe body spray. Look for Boston to come out shooting pucks like Darryl Strawberry’s baseball career: fast, high and on the short (glove) side.

TIM THOMAS

He’s already the Conn Smythe winner for MVP of the Stanley Cup Finals. No, you didn’t miss that award ceremony, because it’s given out tonight, but regardless of who wins game 7, Thomas has it locked up. His numbers, while not quite historic, have been heroic. Like Emmanuelle Chriqui at a bar, Thomas has turned away everything that’s come flying at him. It’s not simply the shots he’s turned aside, but the amount of games he almost single-handedly won the Bruins. Even as their play was shoddy in front of him, Thomas stood on his head to keep games close, or leads in hand. He has made Luongo look foolish on the opposite end of the ice all series long, and if the sports Gods do exist, the right man in net will hoist Lord Stanley’s Cup as well.

It's just been far too long since Emmanuelle has been featured on the Revolver.

THE BITE SEEN ‘ROUND THE WORLD (just not in NHL headquarters)

In Game One, Alexandre Burrows got in a scuffle with Patrice Bergeron and while a ref held them back, he bit Bergeron’s finger. Yes, like a toddler bitch with no other thoughts, he BIT him. While a penalty was called for the bite, the league offices took no action in suspending Burrows. In the very next game, with Burrows playing, Canucks henchman Max LaPierre taunted Bergeron by poking his fingers in his face. Then, Burrows scored the game-winner in Overtime, and the shit had officially hit the fan. It didn’t help in Boston that his name is spelled French-ly and that hockey fans all hate Montreal, French-Canadians, and the French in general. This bite only set off the start of the hatred developed between these two teams.

HORTON HEARS A WHO, SEES STARS

In game three, with all the suspense leading up to how the Bruins would retaliate against the girly, classless antics of the Canucks. Then, minutes in, it was the Canucks who leveled Bruins first-line forward Nathan Horton with a cheapshot two strides after a pass with his head down. Horton lying on the ground with his arm frozen upright like a full mailbox, was out cold: and out for the series. After that hit, the Bs went on to score 12 goals in two wins at home to send the series back for game 5. As I already discussed the results in games 5 and 6 for each home team, it brings us to game 7.

THE SEDIN TWINS VS. THE NOSE FACED KILLAH

Since I can’t tell these particular rare breed of ginger twins apart, I’ll just say the Swedish Twins. Since that makes everyone think of two hot blonde chicks you’d dream about in a menage… I’m sorry. Basically, all you need to know about the Sedins can be summed up by this video: 

I mean, this dude just gets punked, in the face, six separate times, without doing anything. Just standing there like someone from a Nordic country who has never been in a fight before. Apparently Sedin is the Norse God of bitch, who knew? Meanwhile, the guy punching him repeatedly, Brad Marchand, has made a name for himself in this series. He’s even taken on one of the greatest monikers in recent sports nickname memory: The Nose Faced Killah (upside down Wu Tang logo making an “M” and all). With nine goals, and seven assists in these playoffs, Marchand has also been the lead agitator for the Bruins. Pissing off the other team is a trait not to be overlooked. He netted the first goal of the Game 6 blowout when he sniped Luongo’s glove-side and the rout was on.

Straight up gangster.

FINAL PREDICTION:

Because what’s the point of all this information without me making a bold prediction. Well, as I said, the Bruins have soundly outplayed Vancouver throughout this series, and without some bad bounces and breaks, could have already won the cup with multiple one-goal games. It says here, though, that tonight the Bs get the monkey off their backs and Canuck the shit out of Vancouver. 4-1 final with Thomas winning MVP honors, obviously, and the Sedins left to hold each other sobbing in solace during a post-game shower.

Stay tuned…

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Smorgasblog: NHL > NBA? M-Bone Dead, Thor Yoked, and the Red Sox Alive

May 18, 2011

Sorry about the six day break in bloggage. We all know my weekends are a mission in market research for new topics. Combine that with May weather that would make a Twilight tween brace for Edward or Jacob to show up at their door, and you get no blogs. Seriously, it’s not even raining, but everything is just damp. Like a literal wet towel draped upon my life, which is already stuck somewhere between neutral in a ditch and stagnant in a dive bar. Thankfully, I’ve been ripping off naps like it’s my job and watching sports on the reg, which means you get some deep thoughts, and hot chicks in today’s smorgasblog. Le’go.

Rosie Huntington-Whiteley earned a feature on the Revolver a few months back, then Maxim named her #1 on its Hot 100 a couple weeks back. Coincidence? I think not.

DID THE NHL PLAYOFFS JUST OUTSHINE THE NBA?

I have to start off with this question because Tuesday’s action in both sports made me question the entertainment value of each game. I officially invested in the Bruins playoff run this year because they broke enough of my heart during last year’s collapse to make me care. I also still watch every NBA playoff game with my own Celtics eliminated because I genuinely enjoy the sport. Last night, for the first time, I concluded the hockey game won out, at least on this night. Yes, on a night where Dirk Nowitzki shot as efficiently as a hybrid running on vegetable oil, scoring 48 points on 15 shot attempts, the Bruins-Lightning game legitimately had 20 different “are you shitting me?!” moments. Kind of like when you see the timeline of women Leonardo DiCaprio has plowed through over the years.

Call me crazy, but to give this up...

For whatever reason, David Stern decided this would be the year of the free throw in the NBA playoffs. If you are a star player in the league, and you go to the basket, the referees will bail you out. No matter how badly you travel (Lebron), flail wildly (Westbrook), spin and shoot over your head (Rose), legitimately draw zero contact (Wade) or take a small pat on the ass (Dirk, Durant), you will get to the line. The Mavs-Thunder game had 79 free throw attempts last night. Including technicals, the whistle blew over 40 times to stop the game and let a guy take a free shot at the basket. That’s about as entertaining as watching drying paint on growing grass in a sandbox.

Meanwhile, Bruins and Lightning players

... you've gotta do better than this. Not crazy? Yeah, I didn't think so either.

were flying all over the ice, to the point that small enough mistakes kept happening to open up amazing scoring chances, en route to a 6-5 Bruins win. Along the way, a Bruins rookie named Tyler Seguin scored on a breakaway dangle and a snipe over the glove-side, while assisting on two other goals… all in the same period. The Bruins trailed 2-1, then led 6-3, before the Lightning trailed 6-5 and made desperate attempts on net for four solid minutes while Tim Thomas hardly stood on his head, but beat back all shots from any angle with every inch of his equipment. When the final horn blew, the Bruins held on and tied the series at 1 game a piece. Which is good news, because we might just get to watch five more games like this one.

M-BONE DEAD, MILLIONS MOURN

A friend of mine and I share a very serious sentiment that outsiders may misconstrue as a joke. The worst day of his year, thus far, is the time we didn’t get to go ice skating at the Frog Pond in Boston on New Year’s Day.  Because the whole group bailed, and two hetero guys can’t just go galivanting around like it’s the GOTDAMN ice-capades out there, the moment passed us by. Since then, I can not remember one time I have been legitimately upset, or sad. Just high on life as a motheruffer. Going on party buses, watching sports, hitting up sorority formals and Dougie’ing my ass off along the way. Then, like Thor’s hammer, news hit of M-Bone’s untimely death and all that awesomeness came to a halt.

Your first thought when you saw the headline was probably, “Wait, who is M-Bone?!” Then you read the first line of the news story and got that same sinking feeling: Rapper M-Bone, whose group, Cali Swag District, scored a hit this year with “Teach Me How to Dougie” is dead after gunshot wounds to the head during a drive-by shooting. Suddenly, you came to remember that old saying: “life is like an hour glass placed on a table, each with its own unique sands.” Alright, maybe I made up that quote because I remember one like it using the hour glass analogy, but still. M-Bone cannot be thanked enough for providing us the one great jewel he had in him. While many of us will pass through this life impacting nobody, pushing paper at a 9-5, reading my blog and hoping to be as amazing as either myself, or the people I write about, M-Bone was out there living it. Homie was just parked on a Monday night outside a liquor sto’ trying to get his sip on when he got two-pieced to the dome. Next time you’re out and hear the Dougie, pour one out for M-Bone. Remember, your year wouldn’t have been the same if M-Bone never taught you how to dougie.

Inspiration for us all.

Thor’s All Yoked Up and Norse-Godly

If I read one more article about a movie star who never lifted a weight before they started training for their role as (INSERT SUPERHERO) I am just going to snap. That shit just doesn’t work for the common man, unless you’re like me and you’ve been on a strict two-a-day Perfect Pushup plan for years now. This cocky Aussie, Chris Hemsworth (first appeared in Star Trek as Kirk’s dad who got blown up), decided to roll up to the set of Thor so jacked up he didn’t even fit in the costume, then says he never lifted in his life. Really, bro? You never lifted a weight in your life, then you were magically able to look like a cross between Hulk Hogan, Mark McGwire and Fabio? After seeing the movie, my friend who lifts regularly and holds a record in the Boston University workout room said, “After Thor, I’m not lifting another weight until I get some steroids.” Way to ruin it for the rest of us short, white, unathletic dudes, Hemsworth. You’re lucky I get a Natalie Portman pictorial segway out of your vanity.

Absolutely destroying it in the nerdy-scientist-who-wears-plaid-but-gets-a-god-to-love-her role.

RED SOX PIMP-SLAP THE YANKEES

I had to google this whole mess of a series, because I know I drank a lot during it, but did the Yankees honestly start Bartolo Colon and Freddy Garcia?! Like, your payroll is almost a quarter billion dollars, and after CC Sabathia, you trot Colon, Garcia, AJ Burnett and Ivan Nova out there?! This shit ain’t Little League. You don’t get to mow down scrappy lefty slap hitters like myself. This series was just what the doctor ordered to turn the season around, let the Red Sox rip off like a 14-2 run and cruise to the division title like I predicted. Meanwhile, the Sox are only getting better now that Lackey and Dice K have been forced to fake elbow inflammation for the good of the team. Once Pedroia starts his annual laser show and Crawford realizes Boston is not a racist town, the only real question is how many games we win after starting the year 2-11.

Kelly Brook from Piranha 3D... since you didn't see the movie, I'll show her here.

Stay tuned…




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Smorgasblog: Rondo’s Elbow, Hummus, Marisa Miller and my Mom

May 9, 2011

I haven’t done a Smorgasblog in a little while, and after a weekend getting sexually assaulted by a blackjack table, the tiny asian temptress who dealt those satanic hands, the devil spawn of an ATM machine that dispensed my money, and whiskey on the rocks, I doubt I’d be able to string together enough coherent words for one awesome blog topic (like the Night Party Bus Addendum, coming later this week!). See, just then I somehow decided it made sense to write one run-on sentence with five commas in it. I even re-read it to make sure it sounded okay, and walked away satisfied with the start to this blog. Let’s just get to the smorgas’ing. This blog brought to you by British Pop star Cheryl Cole, because she looks decent etc.

Le'go.

RONDO’S ELBOW

This one time, I banged my elbow on a gym door latch right before warmups and wouldn’t you know, it hit my funny bone. Searing waves of pain fired across seemingly every synaptic vesicle in my brain as I thought, “sweet baby Jesus, take me now.” I thought for sure my career would be cut short. Thankfully, the pain subsided in about 37 seconds and I didn’t miss a shot in the layup line. I was eight years old in this imaginary tale being used to draw a comparison to Rajon Rondo on Saturday night.

Just 15 years after this harrowing falsified anecdote, I cannot comprehend how Rondo played with a gimp, dislocated left arm the other night. More inexplicable, is how the Miami Heat refused to overplay and deny him going right. If you watched the replay hammered drunk, you would have known an elbow shouldn’t bend like Rondo’s did. Even if you weren’t hammered drunk, you may have arrived at that fact. To compare what Rondo did to the embarrassment of the Lakers yesterday would be a disservice to homeless people. Because they try harder in life than the Lakers did on the court. So I guess, what I’m saying is, the Lakers compare more favorably to homeless people than Rondo, but still not very favorably to society?

By the way, this could be the turning point in the Heat-Celtics series. KG played like it was 1999 (not to be read like that terribly catchy song about partying like it’s, well, you get it), Paul Pierce is back in a groove, and Chris Bosh has openly admitted that it’s his time of the month and the Boston crowd gave him the jitters. For the record, only an emasculated man who got turned into KG’s housewife says the word “jitters.” Sprinkle in the fact that DWade has been playing dirty and Shaq may have to knock him into the off-season, and I think we have a seven game series on our hands.

Anybody else’s skin crawling after that awkwardness? “Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

HUMMUS & WHEAT THINS

They are like the Portman-Kunis lesbian scene in Black Swan. Feeding off each other’s passion, beauty and dedication to their roles, they create one of the most satisfying feelings ever. There is literally no hummus size tub that can hold me down. Yesterday I started in on a “Party Size” tub that serves 16. If that was a “party” it would have been over fast, and no one would have gotten buzzed, let alone laid.  Since the age of six, I’ve “snack”ed in the way Charlie Sheen bangs a rock. Even though my mom regularly purchased low sodium Wheat Thins, I’d salt those bitches up and go to town, tearing through boxes like a rapper on tour in an Atlanta suburb. So, when my palate matured enough to fully appreciate the heavenly, tangy spread of hummus atop the crystalline encrusted top of a Wheat Thin, the greatest snack combo known to man burgeoned.

Hummus: meet Wheat Thins.

WELCOME TO THE TWITTERVERSE, MARISA!

You're probably not as ready as Marisa is for summer...

This weekend, Twitter finally reached a level of credibility in my eyes: Marisa Miller joined. Prior to this event, Twitter essentially acted as a way for me to add one more layer of social media to my internet experience, which as some of you may know, is my Super Bowl. Now, my twitterverse has been flipped upside down. Left is right. Up is down. Ochocinco going to Target is no longer the highlight of my feed. Marisa Miller struggling to grasp the re-tweet is just another update on my timeline. Prior to this, I used Twitter like the bastard half-brother to Facebook after Zuckerberg messed around with the postman. It got to the point where I attempted to stay relevant on Twitter through people solely tweeting at me. Relevance through absence is power, after all. I know, that shit is deep, so go ahead and breathe that in once more. Relevance through absence is power. Now, I just want to tweet all the live long day knowing Marisa Miller is doing the same thing. She’s muploading fly shots of her at the Kentucky Derby, and wearing the living hell out of any article of cloth that attempts to cover her body. Just the other day, she tweeted her newest Esquire summer shoot, which you already had to cut your inseam out over.

MOTHER’S DAY

Better late than never. Better never than late. I choose, “There is an immeasurable distance between late and too late” by American author Og Mandingo, for the obvious reason that his last name was Mandingo. Feel free to insert any other time-related idiom, but my mom is pretty awesome. She birthed me, then taught me lots of stuff along the way. Perhaps her most amazing trait, aside from the ability to dominate Jeopardy on a nightly basis whilst reading some form of literature at the same time, is her love for sports. Growing up, “bedtime” came when the Red Sox ended. For this blog’s sake, I am thankful for that. She corrected my school papers with the fine-toothed comb any English major-turned-journalist/newspaper editor would. By third grade, she held my subject-verb agreements in contempt. When high school began, passive voice gave her active rage. College applications rolled around, and she deemed me “frustrating” and “mediocre” as a writer. Two high compliments. If she were to read my blog, it would probably cause a sinking feeling that shakes her very core, similar to the realization of swallowing a full curd in sour milk. While it is doubtful she would swell with pride upon reading the Revolver, she did provide the sturdy foundation to support this house of cards I masquerade as a blog with widely delusional, humorous thoughts. Like lipstick on a pig, such is Colt’s Revolver. Love you, Mom.

NSFW due to an F bomb, obvi. Is it even worth warning you guys at this point? I mean, if your boss walked by while you were reading, he/she already knows what’s good…

Stay tuned…

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MLB Nostradamusing 2011

March 30, 2011

Smell that? Well, of course not. You can’t smell words typed on a screen within the internets. But, hypothetically, you can conjure the smell: that mix of freshly cut grass, grilled hot dogs, oiled leather and salty nuts (including the ones in need of a shower after you baked in the bleacher’s sun during a day game). Yes, it is finally,

God. Bless. America.

wonderfully, baseball season. More American than a pair of blue jeans and a stars and stripes bikini on Burke Burke, riding in a Ford pickup listening to Kenny Chesney eating McDonald’s outside the White House, baseball season isn’t just the first true sign that winter is over, but it is the hope of summer. With baseball comes bikinis, broads, beaches, BBQs, beer, (party) buses, Brooke Burke and, obviously, alliteration. All the best things in life. Without further ado, and because I ran out of awesome things that start with a “B”, besides Boston Red Sox, I give to you, my official 2011 MLB Preview.

BEST NON-BASEBALL RELATED STORIES ENTERING 2011

Thankfully, Evan Longoria, David Price and Reid Brignac got robbed just days before I wrote this blog, or the only story I’d have to talk about is Alexi Ogando being involved in a human trafficking ring. Since they did get robbed, I actually have something to talk about. Basically, if I were writing the story, it goes something like: “CLEARWATER, FLA.- Evan Longoria, David Price and Reid Brignac know all about hard work. Bro’ing out hardcore in a mansion while playing Spring Training baseball, plowing through groupie slores away on spring break and balling out on the XBox sticks, whilst wearing insured watches and burning money can be an exhausting proposition for most. No ordinary human can fathom having to lock the aforementioned mansion’s door on top of all that. Well, in a real plot twist, all their cool stuff got stolen. Included are Price’s 50k watch collection, Longoria’s AK-47 Russian issued assault rifle, and Brignac’s 1976″ HOLD UP! Stop, Colt.

Fascist haircut.

Longoria’s AK-47 Russian issued assault rifle?! THE UFF?!” Yes. Apparently, Evan Longoria is the most anti-American mother-uffer in the MLB because dude straight up legally owns an AK-47, not an M-16. Wait, you’re surprised? You thought he rocked that faux-mullet-mohawk because he wasn’t an eastern European post-Soviet break-up insurgent preparing to waste anyone who dare attempt stealing his pricey American trinkets?! Oh, word.

Now back to that Alexi Ogando story, because, I shit you not, dude is a registered human trafficker (I feel like you have to register for such an offense, right?). Back in

Because that last picture of Evan didn't do it for you, the reader.

’05 (I don’t know how to type the “Aught” sound people are using for the 00’s, but read it like that, for fancy historical context) Ogando was minding his own business re-entering the United States, trying to get his pitch on, when federal agents were waiting for him. It seems, an inordinate amount of Latin players were marrying chicks who got denied US Visas (I couldn’t get a credit card for a while either) at the time. Ogando pleaded guilty to this crime, got arrested, and banned from US re-entry for five years. If you’re thinking: “Shit, that’s illegal?!” I’m right there with you. If this whole underemployment thing doesn’t keep working out for me, I planned to get some money/a wife this way. Just goes to show, the “human trafficking” world isn’t all about finding US-born virgins following U2 around in France, abducting them, getting them addicted to meth, and auctioning them off to Saudi Sheiks. That’s just the plot to Taken. Thankfully, it’s been five years, Ogando is pissed, and is just striking out Americans with fastballs from hell. He’s back to being a rich baseball player, a fifth starter in the Rangers rotation, an ace in my heart, and on my fantasy team, obviously. God Bless America. Again.

BEST OFF-SEASON ACQUISITION

AL: Carl Crawford, Red Sox

Unfortunately for Carl, the Red Sox signed Darnell McDonald and his neck tattoos just before last season, or Carl Crawford would be the first Sox player to hold such an honor. Look, this isn’t the NBA, neck tats don’t just grow on Rule V drafts. Fortunately for the Red Sox, Crawford might be their most dynamic player, ever. By dynamic, I mean most freakishly athletic with all five of the tools that smart people say players have (six if you include neck tats as a tool). He will make a huge impact in the clubhouse (where rap music immediately moves up the locker room playlist), and on the field (where he’s just really good at baseball).

NL: Cliff Lee, Phillies

Uncle Cliffy gets absolutely no props for this one. While the Phillies made an amazing move acquiring the best pitcher in baseball via free agency, Lee made an amazingly whipped move of going back to an ex-girlfriend, er, team. While hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, apparently, Cliff Lee hath no problem with a team trading his ass and then going back to them once they begged. If you’re wondering how the “woman scorned” thing comes into play there, I’m not sure. But here’s a woman that has been scorned once or twice…

Oh hey, Jenn Sterger's ready for the baseball season!

WORST OFF-SEASON MOVE

AL- NY Yankees, Idle

“Idle hands end up doing work the Devil would do if he were in the Yankees front-officegoes the old saying. Sure enough, this off-season, the Yankees whiffed on every pitch they saw. Even when everyone penciled in Cliff Lee as their newest $100+ million man, nobody took into account the whole “When Cliff Lee faced the Yankees in the World Series, ignorant classless NY fans heckled his wife in the stands… Effect.” Ouch, brah.

NL- St. Louis Cardinals, Pujols Contract

When you have Albert Pujols under contract, and you own not only Anheuser-Busch, but also the St. Louis Cardinals, you “pay zee mon hees moniez”, as Teddy KGB would say in Rounders. Instead, the Cardinals balked at the concept that Pujols isn’t worth 30 million a year, and now, they get to duel with the Red Sox or Yankees this off-season to try to re-sign him. Thankfully, the Pujols distraction may not matter since Wainwright’s injury probably killed their season dead, anyway.

I'd still go to a Cards game without Albert there, if these chicks are... with Budweisers... just sayin'

BEST PITCHER WHO THROWS BASEBALLS BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE

AL: Felix Hernandez, Mariners (Again)

King Felix (I just Googled who King Felix actually was, you know, in history. Can’t find anything… so yeah, sweet nickname, brah) is just too good at throwing a baseball. Jon Lester is everyone’s pick this year, but just because the Sox offense got better doesn’t mean he’s not facing the Yankees, Blue Jays, Rays and even an improved Orioles lineup 76 times this year. Felix the Cat (much more recognizable nickname, I think), on the other glove, gets to face crappy AL West lineups like the Angels and A’s. CC Sabathia may have lost weight this off-season, but I’m pretty sure I’ve read that five consecutive years, and I think his innings and calories toll finally starts wearing him down into more of a tier-two pitcher.

NL: Roy Halladay, Phillies

Doc Halladay (I get this nickname, Doc Holliday was a famous gunfighter… if you didn’t get it) wins this award by default. I think Cliff Lee has a bit of a problem adjusting BACK to the NL, Josh Johnson would be my pick, but he has to face the Phillies and Braves and all their good pitchers/lineups far too often. Lincecum finally snaps his arm off at the rotator cuff, Wainwright is already out for the year, as previously mentioned, and Ubaldo Jimenez will regress from a season that still wasn’t enough to win this award last year. Plus, it’s not like Halladay isn’t amazingly consistent and gets to face the Mets a lot or anything.

Since that's the only time I'll mention the Mets in this blog, this Mets fan is dedicated to my friend, Bertie... I drink whiskey and talk baseball with him sometimes. America.

MAN WITH A BAT AND GLOVE WHO USES THOSE INSTRUMENTS THE BEST

AL: Adrian Gonzalez, Red Sox

Dude got to leave the worst hitter’s park for Major Leaguers, but nicest place for normal humans to live, and come to a park tailor made for his swing. There’s this huge green wall in Boston that makes it easy for left-handed hitters, who use the opposite field, to get hits and home runs. A-Gon (I know there’s like 13 of these currently playing in the major leagues), I mean, Adrian Gonzalez, happens to be one of those perfect left-handed hitters. He also happens to be hitting behind Jacoby Ellsbury, Dustin Pedroia and Carl Crawford. Add it all up, add in gold-glove caliber defense, and you win my award for using a bat and glove the best.

NL: Albert Pujols- St. Louis Cardinals

There's just something about a girl in... knee pads...

Because he only loses this award when voters get tired of writing his name. In my opinion, those voters are probably racist and think he should Americanize his name to Pooholes. Well, this isn’t Ellis Island, bitches, and Pujols is still the best hitter alive and probably ever. Seriously, when it is all said and done, he may be the greatest player ever. Plus, he dated a chick with an Autistic son, married her, adopted the kid, and does more charity work than Mother Theresa in a down year (you know, when she was living and doing whatever charity work it was that she did?). I guess some other contenders are Hanley Ramirez, Prince Fielder and Carlos Gonzalez ::yawn::

BEST YOUNG PLAYER WHO WINS THE AWARD FOR BEST FIRST SEASON

Honestly, I’m not even making this prediction, because the award is kind of dumb, has almost no impact on the rest of the recipients career and almost always goes to a top prospect who gets called up during the season. Since I try to be perfect, or at least better than everyone else, I refuse to open myself up to ridicule. Gun to the head, though, AL goes to Rays pitcher Jeremy Hellickson, because he’s supposed to be real good. NL goes to Giants 1B Brandon Belt, because I read about him yesterday and he sounds real good, too. Here’s what I can predict: this next picture will be hot.

Yup, I was right.

SO, WHO IS WORLD SERIES CHAMPION

Word count tells me I just hit 1,750. As a reward to those of you still reading, I’ll get right to the winner. San Francisco… will not win it again, this year. Sure, they’ve got nice pitching and all, but like I said, Lincecum is snapping his arm off this year, and their offense sucks… so, the Yankees… won’t even make the playoffs since I’m positive no more than 19 of their fans can name their #4 and #5 pitchers, and that includes AJ Burnett as their #3, which is gross (quick side note: back in college, a late night Red Sox/Yankees argument broke out between my best friend and Yankees fan, Angelo, and myself. In the heat of the drunken moment, I repeatedly asked him to name their #3 starter at the time. In his defense, they had a rash of injuries, and I’m not sure Brian Cashman knew the answer. Short story, long, we almost came to blows, but decided shotgunning a beer would be better. It was a great decision)… so, the Phillies… won’t win the World Series, because Atlanta will beat them in the NLCS thanks to a pitching staff that is nearly as deep and a lineup that is far deeper (particularly with Utley’s status in doubt). With Atlanta in the World Series, all that’s left is naming the AL champion… the Rangers… are not it, though, as they lose to the Red Sox in the ALCS because, well, they aren’t as good. Which leaves us with the World Series matchup of Red Sox vs. Braves, to be held in Fenway Park after the American League restarts their All-Star win streak.

So… the Red Sox win the 2011 World Series. Yes, as a diehard Red Sox fan this is biased. Yes, I’m sick even making this prediction. I don’t know why I’m not giving the Yankees a guaranteed jinx and picking them, but instead I’m giving this the reverse jinx. With Lester, Buchholz, Beckett, Lackey and Dice-K, nobody in the American League matches up 1-5 in the rotation. With a lineup that adds Crawford, Gonzalez and a healthy Pedroia and Youkilis, no lineup matches up in all of baseball. All joking aside, my honest opinion says it’s the Red Sox World Series to lose.

If you didn't like this blog... this is all I have to say.

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Shut Up, Yankees Fans… The Red Sox are Still Poorer

December 9, 2010

Today, I am overcome by feelings of bromosexuality for two reasons. First, whenever you’re out at a bar celebrating a friends birthday by getting him belligerent you had a good night. When friends are texting you with “Carl Crawford to the Red Sox” rumors, you think you’re just drunk. Then, the bar’s flat screens are showing ESPN breaking news reports for the deal being true. Suddenly, you’re having a GREAT night and buying a round of those awful shots the smoking hot chick is pushing. You know, the girl who is at a bar running around with that tray of fruity liquor in shot glasses smaller than mouthwash servings, and charging five bucks a shot? Yes. Her.  My exact quote to a friend last night was, “Eff it, if John Henry is willing to give Carl Crawford 142 million, I’m willing to spend 100 bucks on liquor tonight.” What up 0% interest credit card!

You see, ever since John Henry bought the Red Sox with that guy who produced the Cosby’s and parlayed Katie Couric for a while (Tom

Manny.

Werner), the Red Sox have been weird. Before them, Dan Duquette was running around trying to keep up with the Yankees, every single off-season and it half-worked. Then Duquette got fired, Henry took over, called the Yankees the “Evil Empire” and boy wonder, Theo, started doling out contracts. The Red Sox haven’t had a meaningful big-name free agent acquisition since Duquette signed Manny in 2000. I wrote about that here: https://coltsrevolver.wordpress.com/2010/09/17/170-million-reasons-theo-epstein-messed-up-really-bad/

Now, within a week, the Red Sox have acquired the two most desirable players on the market, and are giving each 140+ million dollar contracts. Remember last paragraph when I said I was overcome by feelings of bromosexuality for two reasons, but only gave one? Don’t worry. Here’s reason number two. Logging into Facebook this morning, I was greeted by a wonderful personal message requesting a Revolver blog about the Sox recent activity at the Winter Meetings. This long-time fan of the Revolver said:

“So last night when the Sox reportedly signed Crawford and obviously after already getting Gonzalez, my brother text me and of course said; how do you defend yourselves now when you are becoming the yankees? Obviously a loaded question but it is true for me (and I think my red sox fans) that the yankees have always been the evil empire making the huge free agency moves. How do we justify?”

He went on to request analogies to hot women, which will obviously be obliged (although I question his use of “women” I digress). First, let me easily rip this lame Yankees fan idea that we have joined the Evil Empire like it’s the cheap toilet paper I used in college dorms. Today, I’ll be employing the classic three-prong approach the Allies used against those damn Nazi(Yankee)s.While also using hot women analogies like my friend requested. Here’s a hot woman. No analogy necessary.

Google: "Hot Woman" Get: Ingrid Vandenbosch

ATTACK #1: “It’s a Business, Man” -Jay Z

Even Hov, who is a Yankees fan, knows this is business. In any form of competition, having a trendsetter forces others to keep up, or die off. It may sound Darwinian, but consider the Baltimore Orioles the Pterodactyls. They have never been able to adapt to the current baseball culture, even with a beautiful ballpark, and a team that had Cal Ripken into the 2000s. Now, they are the perennial bottom-feeders of the AL East with no further hope on the horizon. They are extinct. Why? Because the Yankees set a trend by signing the most expensive players in baseball. Of the 23, 100,000,000 million dollar contracts in baseball history, the Yankees have paid 8 of those players for all or part of those deals (they traded for and subsequently took on the back halves of A Rod and Kevin Brown’s original deals).

Calm down retarded Yankees fan. You’re probably thinking “Yeah, but, but, like… 27 F#*KING RINGS! WE GOT THE MONEY AND WE SPEND IT BABY” and you’d only be half-retarded. To complete the retardation, you’d e-mail your brother, who happens to be a Revolver reader and open yourself up to getting owned right now. The Red Sox during that span have signed 2 of those 23 contracts (1 is pending with Adrian Gonzalez’ extension). In that same span, the Yankees have won 1 World Series, the Red Sox have won two. The Yankees are porn star hot. The Red Sox are girl-next door hot. Here.

Yankees: Sure, she's hot, but she's fake, expensive and a dirty, filthy, pig.

Red Sox: Yes, she actually played "The Girl Next Door"

ATTACK #2: “Patience is a Virtue” -Unknown Proverb

So I googled “who said patience is a virtue” and obviously got my favorite author. Unknown. Man, that guy has come up with some good shit over the years. Anyway, his thing about patience rings true for the Red Sox this off-season. Just like I wrote about that $170 million dollar “bridge to 2011” that Theo built, it’s time to pay some respect to his plan. Theo traded for his man to play first base over the next 7 or 8 years and dent the hell  out of the Monster, in A Gon. Then, he got the best free-agent not named “Cliff Lee” to rope triples into the 420 triangle and around the tricky right field at Fenway, in Carl Crawford. It just took waiting an entire year. A year in which the Yankees got older, more expensive, and didn’t win a World Series. These Yankees are like Sarah Jessica Parker. And to quote Peter Griffin, “she looks like a foot.” These Red Sox now resemble Kylie Bisutti, the 2009 Victoria’s Secret Model Search winner. A fresh, hot piece of woman, who would never be compared to looking like a foot. Here.

Yankees: Tired, Older, Foot-like.

Red Sox: Young, Talented, Sex-like.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ATTACK #3: “It’s not personal, Sonny, it’s strictly business” -Michael Corleone

“Wait, you already told us this is a business move, Colt.” I know. And as much as I hate when over-paid athletes cover up their selfish decisions which are strictly financial  by saying “Man, this is a business. You gotta do what’s best for your family. Gotta put bread on the table.” For the Boston Red Sox, it rings true. You cannot compete with the Yankees if you don’t have a plan, and the money to execute it. Any team in baseball can do it, they just need to get fans in the seats. Fenway Park holds the record for consecutive sellouts in Major League Baseball history. Fans come out to see a great team with a chance to win. They did that in the 1990’s when Pedro Martinez single-handedly packed a stadium searching for its first title since 1918. That’s what enabled the team to have the revenue to compete with the Yankees.

Yankees fans can thank George Steinbrenner for a lot of things. He brought them four World Series in his tenure. He cemented their legacy as the most successful sports franchise in the world. But, he also set a precedent for spending money. In a way, it took George to get the Red Sox over “The Curse.” Always falling just a bit short, the Red Sox were finally forced to keep up, or die off completely. They kept up. They’ve won two World Series in the past six years. Unfortunately for Yankees fans, the Red Sox have not only kept up, they’ve also surpassed the Yankees. At least until the Yanks sign their 9th player to ever get a $100 million contract. Cliff Lee is waiting. The 2011 season should be fun. Almost as much fun as this would be.

Jamie Gunns: I doubt that's her real name, but I really don't care.

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