OOPS! Sorry! Wrong photo.
Here we go:
Thanks to THEO, we’re going to the principal’s office. Where, undoubtedly, we’ll all lose our ability to hold back laughter. Awkward, awkward laughter.
The compensation headache over Theo Epstein’s move from the Boston Red Sox to the Cubs is officially Bud Selig’s problem, turning a minor embarrassment for the Cubs into a potential precedent-setting action for Major League Baseball.
See. I know what you’re doing, Theo. You’re making all these jackass moves and throwing them in our faces so that we’ll hate you. You’ve been doing it allllllll offseason. So that we’ll cry, “Theo? Theo Epstein? Bah. Curse that Theo Epstein. We don’t need him or his big, big moves!” And then Bud Selig (who hears everything. Except needle injections) will say, “hark! You don’t need him? Then here is your $5. Epstein buy-out problem solved!”
You know what, Theo? It is not going to work. You are worth so so so so so much. INVALUABLE. Hear me, Selig? It’s like, you take alllllll the elephants in the world (they’re endangered, you know. And expensive) and add in Yu Darvish’s salary. And multiply it by how old Tim Wakefield is (he’s a hundred, apparently. I read it in a Yankees blog). And then you add in all the copper (it’s valuable. I saw it on the news) from allllll the street lights on U.S. 1 and then you add in a pot o’gold for every Papeljig in the history of Papeldom (curse you, Philadelphia! curse you all! um. Unless you’re a fan in Delaware. Then great tidings to you. Great indeed). And then you add your five dollars. And THAT is how much the Red Sox will accept for Theo Epstein.
Or. Um. Garza. Castro AND Jackson.
Don’t like it? SEND HIM BACK.
Oops! Did it again! Awkward…
Here you go- Sorry about that.
In other news, I landed in Philadelphia this morning and have been playing in Delaware all day. I love it here. There is Thai food and I feel appreciated. Oh. But the speed limits are ridiculously low. Which bothered me, until I realized no one has to follow them. And people really, really like stocking hats. And I don’t think you can talk on a cell phone and drive. Which is silly. Because I’m very popular and people call me a lot.
There is a place here called Tasti Thai. It is a restaurant. Not a… um. It’s a restaurant.
But there’s no Which Wich Sandwich Shop. Nowhere is perfect, I guess.
Could you call the state of Delaware and tell them to hire me? Thanks.
And Jonathan Papelbon didn’t even have the decency to meet me at the airport. After ALLLLLLLL the cheering I have done for him. I guess it really is over, guys.
The Bleacher Report agrees with me on something.
And that something IS… RYAN BRAUN!!!!
If it’s leprosy, you can just TELL us, Ryan.
Bud Selig would MUCHHHHH rather you have leprosy than juice in your veins.
Leprosy is nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of famous people have leprosy! Like Nicholas Cage.
Really, Ryan. No one cares if you have leprosy. Or. Whatever. Well, your random hookups might. But I bet you and Derek Jeter could hang out and make gift baskets as an apology. Jeter’d just appreciate a friend. So would Minka. Think of all the happy times you could have together. Make a sleepover out of it! Play “never have I ever” with jello shots! “Never have I ever juiced…”
See, it’s not just about you, Ryan. It’s about the Brewers. And MLB. And little kids with chewing gum and Ryan Braun trapper keepers (do you think they HAVE Ryan Braun trapper keepers? I want a Kevin Youkilis trapper keeper. Can someone get on that?). When you bring steroids into the mix- it’s about more than your career.
So, how’s about setting a few rumors straight?
Doesn’t look like you have a lot of time.
Seriously? Nicholas Cage does NOT have leprosy? What’s leprosy again?
Oh. OH! Ew.
DODGING (hah! a pun! a pun!) Joe Torre. Carlos Silva. Jason Varitek. And other news to whimsy your Wednesday.
Joe Torre is NO LONGER AT MLB! Why? Because he wants to be George Steinbrenner when he grows up.
Sorry, Bud Selig. You’re going to have to find another sleepover pal to play Truth or Dare with on those long, lonely nights… you could always hire a friend. You can afford it.
Joe Torre resigns from MLB!
And there was much rejoicing.
But I don’t know if they’re rejoicing in LA. Of course, I do think I heard a chorus of Well-it-couldn’t-be-worse-than-McCourt. A catchy tune, that one…
You’ll recall he stuck it to NY by managing the Dodgers in 08- a role he won’t be returning to…
And NY stuck it to him in a… well… we don’t have to go down that awkward memory trip again.
And the Sox could be hoping newly signed Carlos Silva hulks into a badass…
Last January, the Yankees signed Colon to a minor league contract. The one-time Red Sox starter made New York’s roster in spring training, and for the bargain price of a $900,000 base salary, the 38-year-old right-hander made 26 starts, logged 1641⁄3 innings and posted a 4.00 ERA.
Nick Cafardo reports we’re still interested in Roy Oswalt, Hiroki Kuroda, and Joe Saunders- but not their price tags.
But Nick Cafardo gets nothing from me until his other prediction comes true- the one about Jason Varitek.
While there’s lots of Tekky speculation- nothing is coming from the actual RED SOX- a point gracefully pointed out today by MassLive.
Maybe the Red Sox are formulating a creative plan for Varitek to return in some non-playing role but stay in shape, just in case.
If it’s anything else, they are not being polite by stringing Varitek along.
If the Sox hired Varitek as a coach or advisor, but told him to stay in shape in case an emergency need for a catcher occurred, I could see the logic.
Let’s do that.
In other news… Snowpocalypse averted in Boone, North Carolina.
And I get to write about basketball Friday. The new guy (UNC-Chapel Hill fan/musician. Let’s call him “Sweaters.” Yes. Because he wears sweaters.) is big into basketball. So, I guess this will just give me an excuse to nab a couple study sessions. Is it tacky to bring wine?
4:23. At work. Explaining to someone the tradition that is Tim Wakefield.
So, betting time. I’ve got all my imaginary money on a win. That’s approximately 127,450 imaginary dollars. Imaginary dollars that I was saving for my imaginary boat and my imaginary high-interest mutual fund. It’s all I have left after purchasing my imaginary island last week with my imaginary savings. If I lose it, I’ll be marooned.
What do you think, Soxies? Is today the day that Father Time… um… Father Tim will deliver double hundreds?
See you in a few hours!
6:15. Getting off work. Step closer to being able to watch entirety of actual game…
HILARIOUS story about Alex Rodriguez on Deadspin (thanks, Jeb!).
New York Yankees star Alex Rodriguez played in an underground, illegal poker game where cocaine was openly used, and even organized his own high-stakes game, which ended with thugs threatening players.
Check it out while you tailgate.
7:15. Okay. Carlos Carrasco. There’s something funky about the video on MLB.tv today… anyone else experiencing this? Checkerboards? No? Just me.
Jacoby chops to first. First out.
I wish they would stop spitting in public. It’s embarassing.
This is frustrating already. two outs. Sorry, Pedroia. I thought it was a homer too.
Gonz has an extremely dramatic single. Jacoby would have made that a triple. But whatever. The crowd goes silent as Youkie steps up to the plate. Okay. I may have assisted with the mute button on my computer…
Okay. They’re picking on Youkilis. The announcers say they’re picking on Youkilis. STOP PICKING ON YOUKILIS.
Thank you. With that complete and utter fail, Cleveland, you stopped. And helped my husband have one hell of a double. Okay, sound. You can come back again.
Papi at the plate. This MLB feed is really going to annoy me. I can tell. Base hit! Youkie! Gonz! 2-0 lead. 2-0. I like how this is going. Yes. Go team 200. That’s what I will call you all today. Team 200. Do it for Wake. Do it.
Carl Crawford, buddy, pal, friend, let’s widen the cushion, shall we? Let’s spread out that cushion like a picnic blanket. Like throat coating cough syrup. Like… like a home run.
Out. Okay. Um. First inning. Two runs. Okay.
Top of the second. 7:29. Travis Hafner. at the plate. Strike two.
Youkie in the shortstop spot (????) throws him out.
Carlos Santana who has shifted from catcher to first base? What a weird game.
Okay, announcers. I don’t want to know how well the batters hit against Timmy. This is not helpful information for my pro-200 mindset. You will go on mute again. Mute, I say.
Steeeerike. First K of the night.
Knucklin’. Knucklin’ your way to 200. Knuckleballs look so silly. I wonder how they look coming at your face. Judging from the confuzzled expression on Konerko’s face, not pleasant.
Throws it in the dirt again.
Um. Let’s not do that.
Tim turned 45 yesterday? Why didn’t I know that? I would have thrown a party.
A-Gonz shoves in the out.
7:35. I am so tired, guys.
Bottom of the second.
Not. A. Good. Sign for my awakeness…
Cleveland, I’m sorry your pitcher lost his last five starts. Really. And I’m sorry that tomorrow it will be six. Heidi Watney, I really don’t care about this. Thanks.
Reddick. Base hit. At the wall. Dramatic single. One out. But Joshy on first.
That ball almost hit Baltimore… wayyyyyy on the bottom of the wall list.
Marco Scutaro kind of looks like this guy I went out with this this one time. Not sure why I’ve never noticed that… my, what an awkward memory.
Good swing by Marco Scutaro? Um, Remy, a good swing is going to be when it’s out of the park and we’re two runs scarier.
Full count for Scut. See, I’m not worried- because Jacoby’s up next.
Fly to center… catch. Out.
Whatever, let’s see you, Jacoby.
Ball one. Okay. We can walk there. That’s fine. My computer keeps freezing on ridiculous expressions in the audience. Like this guy in a pink plaid shirt with his mouth open. He is clearly a Cleveland fan.
No offense, Bheise. You would NEVER wear that shirt.
In the air to right. Makes the catch. Ends the second. Okay. That’s fine.
0-2. Top of the third. Tim Wakefield is about to be a badass. You’ll see.
Any minute now.
Pop out. Jacoby’s all over it.
Any minute now.
He just smirked. Was that a badass smirk?
Yes. Yes it was. Second strike out for Tim Wakefield.
That’s KK, for those of you paying attention at home.
Ground ball. Easy out.
And then Scutaro kicks it.
Scutaro kicks it?
Scutaro kicks it.
Bunt. Out at first.
Okay. Scut… you better go shake Gonz’ hand.
Up the middle, base hit for Pedroia… our 5th hit of the night, by the by… on a new 5 game hit streak… Okay.
25 game streak broken by the White Sox. That one hurt.
Gonz tries the bunt. Not so much with the success.
Pedroia tagged out. Pedroia!
“That’s a helpless feeling for a baserunner, when you take off too soon,” announcer said.
Caught stealing. Bah.
Gonz grounds into the shift. Obvious out- but he runs for THAT one, notice.
Shut up, Heidi! Youkilis is batting.
Ball and a strike. I just love the Youk chant. It’s like a moan, really. Ball and two strikes. Two outs. Come on, baby. I believe in you. Want me to clap? I’ll clap. I can do that. Hell, it worked in Peter Pan.
Clearly, you are not Peter Pan. End of inning.
39 pitches for you, Timmy. 40th… a strike. And a fast ball.
Okay. Breathe. 200. 200. Just repeat that. You know. 200 times.
Hopefully this won’t take 200 tries.
Ball bounces. Ridiculously.
Clearly witchcraft. 2-2. Tie game.
Yeah, Salty. I think you SHOULD talk to Tim Wakefield. Maybe you should talk to him longer. NO outs. 2-2. 8:05 p.m.
Wild crazy pitch puts the guy to third.
Okay. Wakey. Okay. Let’s just calm down.
This inning is gross. Let’s start over. Or. Um. End it. Or something. Wake?
52 pitches. Tonight a year ago collision at the plate with Santana? Yeah. Let’s not repeat that. I’d rather Wake just strike you the frick out.
Like he just did. Making it KKK.
55 pitches. Okay. Let’s give that lonely out some friends. Two, to be specific.
Thank you. Sit down.
And, in the announcer booth, we’re talking about Tito bobbleheads. I really, really want one. Is that wrong? Will you buy me one?
“Where’s his finger so I can dislocate it again?”
That’s a bit much, announcer. A bit much.
A bobblehead night?
Doesn’t make the catch- Ortiz stopped at third, double for Crawford. Lovely. Kismet.
Second. Third. ZERO outs. ZERO.
BASES LOADED! BASES LOADED!
But BASES LOADED!
Come on, Marco.
Come on, Marco. Stephen King is watching.
I mean, it’s not a grand slam… but… at least we avoided a double play.
2 outs. Carl at third. Marco at first. Jacoby at the plate. Scut steals.
Anddddd we start the bottom of the 6th with an out.
And about fifteen yawns from me.
And two outs. Blast.
That was a dramatic fail… and we’re on first.
Of course, it may be moot, because Marco’s up.
Out. That was fast.
Top of the 5h. 8:30 p.m., but it feels like midnight. Wake… can you do this quickly? Thanks.
Thanks. 1 out.
Crap. And one on first.
2 outs. Okay. Okay. Guy on second. Whatever, guy on second. Wake promised this would be fast.
First and second. Okay. And Asdrubal is up to the plate.
3 outs. Thanks be to Fisk. I’m so sleepy, guys. So sleepy…
Gonz and Pedroia are trying to wake me up. It’s sweet. Thanks, guys. But it’s not working. Youk is going to load up the bases. He will.
And the fifth crashes. Like I am about to…
Tim Wakefield. Please?
Oh no. Alfredo Aceves is warming up.
Oh no. Wakey, you can do it. I believe in you…
200. 200. 200. 200. 200.
Tim. 200. Tim.
He is stressing me out. Are you watching this? Is anyone watching this?
Tito looks stressed out. And Salty, I hope that’s stress, because you are causing some plate scariness with your not catching.
Okay, One on first. One on second. two outs.
Oh. AND IT IS TIED AT THREE-THREE now.
Tim is gone. And I have this sinking sleepy feeling that this is only the beginning of our journey to 200.
Top of the 7th. I am too tired to yell at you, Randy Williams.
It looked fair to me too, Jacoby. It is 9:20.
3-3. top. 8.
This game will clearly last forever.
Youkie. Fix it.
Ball four. Leadoff WALK.
Tony Sipp. Whatever.
Mike Avilles pinching. This is the first time I’ll really see you in action, Mike. Can I call you Mike? Papi. Oh, Papi. Swing and a miss. ‘Course.
Zero outs, Aviles on first.
Aviles steals second. This Aviles, he’s alright.
Pop out. Papi.
Carl. Can I call you Carl?
Seriously. Ties cause me to lose sleep. Fix this, Carl. Be a buddy.
Out on strikes.
Okay. Um. Aviles is still in scoring position. One out left. So. Um. Salty?
Oh no. Justin Masterson tomorrow. Oh no. I am so conflicted. I loved him so.
Right. Back to the actual game.
13-1 Yankees? Really, White Sox? REALLY?
Salty. Yes. Salty.
This game is stressful. I know what will make us ALL feel better:
The 9th. An out.
Crowd on its feet. Wish we were there.
Hi, Darnell McDonald.
FAIL, Darnell McDonald. Go. Sit. Down.
One out left.
ONE OUT or extra innings. And I can’t stay awake, people.
Jacoby, if you CARE about me at all…
OHMYGOD. You… you love me… you… you really love me…
I love you too, Jacoby. I love you too.
“Just want to try to drive the ball.”
You did, Jacoby. You did.
I love Paps’ victory face. I love it.
“We’re going to compete until the last out,” Jacoby said.
To clarify: I LOVE Chaz Bono. Really. I saw Chaz in NY when Chaz was Chastity and was irrationally excited and my irrational excitement alienated my peers. I took a cell phone picture. I hate Roger Clemens. If I saw him, I would take a cell phone picture, but only so I could post it here and say, “I hate you, Roger Clemens” and have a good visual aid.
The Roger Clemens drama continues. *insert Law and Order soundbite*
A fricking mistrial. Why? Because the prosecutors made a rookie mistake and didn’t follow simple directions.
Really. Click here for proof.
NOW THEY HAVE TO CALL A NEW JURY.
This means we will have to hear about this FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES.
No. I’m secretly (not so secretly) thrilled. I kind of love soap operas. I used to watch them when I was sick in elementary school. When I became a grown up, soap operas became less convenient (and kept cancelling… weird) so I have to use things like this trial to fill the void. Oh, and my job. That’s a void-filler.
The judge halted proceedings this morning over complaints from the defense about the prosecutors use of information the judge had banned – and then the judge quickly accepted their concerns and declared a mistrial.
The defense had objected to the use of part of Clemens’ 2008 testimony about Andy Pettitte, drug use, etc, etc.
Afoul! Such dramatic language. I can just see a pirate belting that out on an angry sea.
Clemens sure would make a great pirate.
Pirates don’t care what you’re on as long as you have time for some yohohos and a bottle of rum.
Oh, and some horrifically graphic pillaging. Pirates don’t sound so cool when you think about the horrifically graphic pillaging. Kind of like how Roger Clemens doesn’t sound so cool when you think of the needle juice.
So thanks, prosecutors, for making a complex issue even more complex.
Wait a second… there might not even be a fricking trial now? What????
There will be a hearing on September 2 to determine whether Clemens would face double jeopardy, should the government elect to try him. Since it was mostly a procedural error and the jury never made a decision, there will probably be another trial.
Oh, I hope so. Else you’ll get a nasty letter from me, prosecutors.
Not everyone thinks it’s going to be so cut and dry.
“This is also just absolutely terrible pre-trial publicity. The entire world knows now what has happened, and you’re never going to get a fair jury. You can’t even change the venue. Fundamental fairness [says] don’t prosecute Roger. He has a big chance right now to walk away from this. We’re going to find out I think in the next 24 hours whether that happens or not.”
At least SOMETHING good is coming out of all the juice drama…
Baseball players are getting “scared straight.”
But the LA Times explores whether or not it’s trickling down to younger athletes…
The survey of approximately 50,000 eighth-, 10th- and 12th-graders showed 4 percent of male high school seniors said they used steroids in 2010 — up from 3.4 percent in 2009 and the highest number since 2004.
Still looking for drama? Read this article about how a trial might have reignited the Wade Boggs- Roger Clemens feud of ultimate hilarity.
Another busy day in the world of growth hormones, as the Roger Clemens melodrama continues. *insert Law and Order-esque da-dah here*
Jury selection continues…
And it’s slower than steroid molasses. (never inject molasses, no matter what they tell you)
America, ladies and gents. That’s just one of the potentials. 36 need to be selected before the trial moves forward. OUT of those 36, 12 will be selected. And it’s (as they say in the south), “slim pickin’s.” Could someone tell me what that saying means?
Clemens, as you know, has been charged with SIX felonies for lying to Congress about why his thighs are so beefy. Pettitte, as you know, is just one in a slew of people who call foul on Clemens’ claim that his massive bulk is just about wheaties.
Maybe, prosecutors say, but your wheaties were spiked!
No, he says! Nothing comes between me and my cereal!
Really, they say? Because your cereal bowl looks a lot like a syringe…
No, he says, shaking his mammoth fists! That’s a spoon!
A syringe, good sir!
A spoon! A spoon! A spoon! I’ll spoon your face! I’ll spoon all your faces!
You are out of order! Out of ORDER!
It’s a lot like that in real life. Except the spoons are metaphorical. You know. You can borrow that script, if you want, you know, for dinnertime reenactments. But use plastic spoons, k? Because when we tried it at my dinner table, it got violent.
Opening arguments are set for WEDNESDAY. And I can’t wait. Now the judge says he may not let the prosecution question Pettitte at all. Apparently, having witnesses say they’ve juiced up could tamper impartiality where Clemens is concerned.
This one’s going to be fun. So much juicy (pun intended) drama! It’s like reality television, but I don’t have to have cable!
And… on the other side of the world, people are still testing positive for doping. See, and this is going to continue to be a problem until everyone, across the board, is held accountable. And to hold the accountable, you have to catch them, see… and to catch them *ahem, Selig, ahem* you have to WANT to catch them. The unspoken tolerance? Got to stop.