Naughty Baseball

Apoligies

2006-08-25T01:54:00.000-04:00

I'd like to apologize for the lack of blogging to my many fans. I was actually hired for a "real" job recently, and in doing so, have been trying as my rents like to say, "get my act together." Thus, NaughtyBaseball has been on hold for a couple weeks while I find a place to live, a new bitch to do my laundry, and possibly a dog to feed beer and drugs to at 3 Am when I come home from the bars and need someone/something to talk to. But not to worry, I can assure you that this new job can only take NaughtyBaseball up, up and away!!!

Baseball Cities

2006-08-10T13:01:00.000-04:00

There really is no such thing as a bad baseball city. I mean, if you get paid six or seven figures to play baseball, how bad could it be? This, of course, is coming from me, and as they say—life is all relative. If I were talented enough to be a MLB player I’m sure I would look at things a little differently. For instance, Delmon Young is dissatisfied with the Devil Rays for not calling him up, or, to make a football comparison Eli Manning didn’t want to play football in San Diego. So, let me rephrase—there is such a thing as a bad baseball city. Nobody wants to play for an organization with a losing tradition, or in a terribly boring city. Not to mention the fans. You might be in the middle of nowhere, but, hey, if the fans are good, you have something to play for.

The Top Ten

1. San Francisco

Some, if not all of you are probably surprised by this choice. San Francisco encompasses everything you could want in a team. They aren’t a large market franchise, yet they certainly don’t cheat their players. So you’ll be rich. Pac Bell Park is one of the nicest stadiums in baseball, and you get to chill in perfect baseball weather even in the “sour” months of April and September. Not to mention, San Francisco is a pretty ill city with good night life and wine country only an hour away.

2. San Diego

As much as the last selection is debatable, San Diego number 2? Have I been sippin’ more syrup? Well, if you’ve ever been to San Diego you know this is clearly one of the best places to live in America. Beautiful beaches, a gorgeous ballpark and “hands down” the best girls in North America. There are certainly downfalls to playing here. Petco Park is terrible if you’re a power hitting left-handed batter such as Ryan Klesko and Brian Giles. Plus, you have to have a goatee.

3. Boston

I hate saying anything nice about Boston, but despite the uncountable number of Massholes, it’s hard to argue against it as a player’s town. You’re guaranteed to play in an ancient and ferociously packed stadium every night. And when you go out in Beantown as a baseball player, it’s like Totti hitting clubs in Rome—you’re worshipped by every 18-35 year old women there is. And O those precious Pubs...delicious drinking wells of hope...

4. Los Angeles

The warm weather biased is obviously playing a role. There are so many things to hate about LA—the traffic, the smog, the celebrity thrilled fans who show up an hour and a half late to each game. Not to mention, Chavez Ravine is nothing to get excited about. But it is LA. You have great weather year round, a large payroll, and, Vegas is only three and a half hours away.

5. New York Yankees

If it wasn’t for the intense New York media, the Yankees would have been placed second on this list behind the Giants. Obviously, if you play for the Yankees you’re going to be overpaid. You’ll also have an opportunity to hit the bars until 4 AM after the game, and, like Boston, baseball players are treated like celebrities. There is no better city to be “known” in when you walk up to a bar or restaurant. And if you play well, you’ll be rewarded. This city, and its media love its big game players. But as much as New Yorkers love to love, they also love to hate. You have to have a thickhead to play here because you’ll be detested by everyone you play on the road, and if you start playing badly at home, you’ll have no one to look for, for support. In other words, if you’ve got the sack to handle the media, you’ll be in heaven, and if you don’t well…you’ll probably end up somewhere in Middle America.

6. Toronto

Toronto—what in God’s name is Toronto doing here above so many other cities? Let me tell you that Toronto is one of the greatest, and most forgotten cities in North America. They have a killer music scene, good, loyal fans, a retractable dome, solid food, and it’s exceptionally clean. You also don’t have the pressures of playing in a big city, despite Toronto’s big city feel. And, in the off-season, you can ski. For tickets please call….

7. New York Mets

The beaten down stepchild of the Bronx Bombers, the Mets have a lot going for them except for their reputation. Like the Yankees, the Mets have New York and all of its glory to play in. But, if you’re a Met, you’ll always be second tier. You play in the ugliest ballpark in baseball, and, they make you ride a school bus from the parking lot to the stadium. This would never happen at Yankee stadium. What I’m trying to say is, your situation is worse than being a Yankee, but it’s still pretty damn good.

For Mets party pictures, click here.

8. Texas Rangers

I’m not going to lie, I don’t know much about Texas. I’ve never been there and, quite frankly, from what I’ve read, the state scares me. Nevertheless, players seem to enjoy it and the Ballpark in Arlington is a great place to hit. Plus, booze, dirt bikes, and bitches sounds like fun to me.

9. Anaheim

If you ever read this site you know I don’t have much respect for the Anaheim Angels and their blasted rally monkey. But, like I said, they’re only three and a half hours from Vegas.

10. Chicago Cubs/Chicago White Sox

I wanted to put both these clubs further up the list because I have so much respect for the city of Chicago and its precious Weiner Circle. But, despite Chicago’s excellence, these two teams have many organizational problems. For starters, the Cubs are owned by the bastard Tribune company who screws their “fans” in every possible way. For instance, did you know that the Tribune company owns many scalping agencies who are given a certain amount of tickets each game? Thus, your ticket that’s listed at $25, goes up to $40, and ends up in th same place. Another reason why the Cubbies have gone down hill is, and this is coming from Cubs’ fans, most of the people who attend games now are more like tourists, rather than real hardcore fans. I’m not saying that there aren’t real Cubs fans, cause I’m sure there are plenty, but it sucks when a team becomes “trendy.”

As for the White Sox, they are selling out a few games and their fans seem to be supporting them after their World Series victory last year. But, they’re clearly still the second favorite team in Chicago. We’ll see how many of these fans stick around if the White Sox struggle in the years to come. I have a feeling Ozzie ball can only take you so far. Five years is a better indicator of an organization's success than two.

I’ll have the Bottom Ten up over the weekend.

The Good, The Bad, and The Absolutely Horrible Baseball Films Ever Made

2006-08-07T13:08:00.000-04:00

Kevin Costner dominates this board with classics Bull Durham and Field of Dreams. But let’s not forget Henry Rowengartner hitting triple digits on the gun at Wrigley, Tom Selleck invading Japan, or Billy Heywood taking over the Twins at the tender age of 10. Yes, this list not only includes masterpieces, but movies that were pressed into production because, apparently, people love shitty baseball movies.

The Good

Bull Durham

“The other day Crash called a woman's pu... pussy... um, well, you know how the hair is kind of in a V-shape? Well, he called it the Bermuda Triangle. He said that a man could get lost in there and never be heard from again.”

That Crash Davis and his metaphors. Anyways, Bull Durham is, in my book, tied with Major League as the best baseball movie ever made. The movie is hilarious, but more than that, it works because it feels real. Its main character, Crash, doesn’t end the movie circling the bases with a game winning Major League home run. Instead, he gets the girl he wants and ends his career as a lifetime minor leaguer—something more likely to happen than Nuke’s rise to stardom. When you are done watching the movie, however, you don’t leave it feeling sad or cheated. Crash may have not achieved his goal of Major League playing time, but he does enough to feel proud of the little things he’s accomplished, including guiding Nuke to the big leagues. This movie also teaches some important maxims to live by…see quote above.

Major League

“Better teach this kid some control before he kills somebody.”

It doesn’t get much better than Wild Thing Vaughn throwing fastballs at people’s heads and banging other player’s wives. Or does it? Wesley Snipes sprinting from his bed to the field to win the 40 yard dash…Pedro Cerrano swearing off Jobu and learning how to hit a curveball…The best of all, Rene Russo getting duped by Jake Taylor, a rickety veteran with bad knees and a career in the Mexican league…what else is there to say?

Field of Dreams

Kinsella: “You’re a pacifist!”
Mann, holding a crowbar: “Shit!”

Alright, Field of Dreams is a little too hokey/Middle-America barnyard for me, but it’s still a great movie. As the tagline reads, it’s the story of Ray Kinsella who spent all his life searching for his dreams, until his dreams finally came looking for him. Another Kevin Costner role, this time with a completely different feel from Bull Durham. It’s not raw or gritty like Durham, in fact, it’s the exact opposite. A family flick about a bunch of deceased baseball stars whom Kinsella builds a field for on his farm in Iowa. Though dreams are certainly the focus of the flick, the movie has more to do with faith. Kinsella has faith that if he builds a field, and gets a number of people to attend than his dream will come true. He doesn’t know what that dream is, until he sees his deceased father, who he gets to play catch with for the first time. Personally, my dream also came true in this movie. James Earl Jones walks into the corn field/outfield, never to be seen again.

The Bad

Rookie of the Year

Common, how often do you get to hear a doctor mutter, “Funky buttloving?” At the time of this movies inception, 1993, I was ten and thought this was the greatest thing ever made since automatic card shufflers. Since then, I have obtained somewhat of an education and can formerly declare this movie Thomas Ian Nicholas' best role. We all said the same thing during American Pie, “Isn’t that the kid from Rookie of the Year? What has he been doing all these years?” Well, let me take this time to tell you—he was starring in A Kid in King Author’s Court and a number of “Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman,” episodes. Anyways, Rookie of the Year is a movie about a ten year old who breaks his arm and, due to the way his arm heals, ends up pitching for the Cubs, which may not be that far off base. Another plus—Gary Busey as Chet “Rocket” Steadman.

Mr. Baseball

“We’re not athletes. We’re baseball players.”

No Tom Selleck, you are neither an athlete nor a baseball player, nor an actor. In fact, I would question the fact that you are human. Ladies man Tom Selleck stars as an American imperialist baseball player, Jack Elliot, who gets traded from MLB to the Japanese league. Though this movie has some interesting ideas—mainly an American player adapting to a very different culture, it fails in large part due to its core cast. I.E. Tom Selleck who seems to have forgotten he was in fact supposed to “act” while playing this role, instead of trying to mack every piece of fine Japanese ass that walked by. That being said, I can hardly blame him.

Major League 2, Major League 3?

Just imagine the first movie, except much worse….and then imagine the second movie, except much worse…

Little Big League

“If I owned the Twins, I wouldn't even show up here. I'd just hire a bunch of scientists to do my homework. I mean, if you're rich you don't have to be smart. That's the whole beauty of this country.”
-Joey

Joey, you are wiser than your years. A young man, Luke Edwards, is given control of his grandfather’s baseball team, the Minnesota Twins. He ends up appointing himself manager and leads the Twins to a pennant. News flash—if you can’t get it done with Mauer, Morneau, Santana and Liriano, try Edwards, the kids got a knack for winning.

Angels in the Outfield

I haven’t seen this movie in years, so it’s hard for me to judge it at this point. But I imagine it’s something along the lines of the real 2002 Anaheim Angels who surely were guided by mysterious spirits to World Series victory. Let’s be honest, Orange County doesn’t deserve to win anything. Period.

And the Absolutely Horrible

Ed

“I am going to spank that monkey!”

I am embarrassed to say that I’ve seen this movie. If this didn’t ruin director Bill Couturie career, nothing will. Let me summarize it for you, Matt LeBlanc playing a minor league baseball player + monkey (this is really a movie, I’m not making it up) who plays baseball = embarrassment to cinema/embarrassment to America as a whole/embarrassment to humanity as we know it.

For Love of the Game

I’m sorry Costner, I never wanted to put you in the same arena as Matt LeBlanc and a monkey, but, well…A souring relationship with his woman, and a dyeing baseball career can only be remedied by one thing—a completely unrealistic perfect game in New York helped out by about sixteen amazing defensive plays. I will give this movie credit for one thing, I like the sequence where “Paint it Black” is playing while Costner is pitching…other than that, hmm…

Your AL MVP

2006-07-25T13:59:00.000-04:00

They never like giving the award to a pitcher. They say it’s because the pitcher has their own award, the Cy Young, and that the MVP is reserved for players who play everyday. Well, screw this! That’s like saying a rookie can’t win the MVP award because they also have their own award. So far this year, the American League MVP crosses both those boundaries—being both a rookie and a pitcher. That’s right, you may have guessed it from my clues and/or that giant picture—Francisco Liriano is my MVP candidate.

Like I said, the real people who vote don’t like giving it to pitchers. The last time a pitcher won was Dennis Eckersley back in 1992. I was all for giving the award to Pedro Martinez in 1999 when he had a 23-4 record, a 2.07 ERA and 313 strikeouts. These are amazing numbers period, despite the fact that Pedro did it during the “juiced” era. Instead, Pudge Rodriguez got the award. Yet, odds are Liriano has no shot in hell of winning, given whose voting. I mean, the guy barely made the All-Star game after posting a 1.84 ERA at the break.

By my definition, the other candidates are David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez, Derek Jeter, Vernon Wells, Jim Thome, Joe Mauer, and…though he won’t be considered because he plays for a “losing” team, Travis Hafner. First of all, I think a DH should have an opportunity to win the MVP. That being said, they need to put up Bonds-on-steroids numbers to win. This immediately discounts Thome, Ortiz, and Hafner. Not to say these guys aren’t having monster years, but, if you can’t contribute at all on defense it sets you back. Plus, like I said, Hafner won’t even be in this discussion because the Indians aren’t playing very well, despite the fact he’s been the best hitter in baseball. Offensively, Manny is having another great year at .312/.430/.616. But his defense is so piss poor in left that I almost want to count him as a DH. His numbers are also a grade lower than Mauer’s, Jeter’s and Wells’. So let’s get rid of Manny.

Derek Jeter is having one of his best years as a Yankee, and hasn’t taken the award home in his career. He also never lacks in media attention. Jeter is doing a lot of good for his team batting .346, albeit, he’s only hitting singles, having one of the worst power hitting years of his career. That, coupled with his overrated defense at short and the lineup around him—A-Rod, Giambi, Damon, Posado--make Derek seem like less value to his franchise than some others.

A very strong case could be made for Joe Mauer and Vernon Wells this year. Both play premium defensive positions where usually even a little bit of offense is helpful. Wells is hitting .322/.385/.624, is playing nasty in centerfield and the Blue Jays are 55-44. Mauer is batting .380 with a little bit of power and playing adequately behind the plate. The Twins sit at 57-41.

So how could I possibly justify giving the award to a 22-year-old pitcher who didn’t even start the year in the rotation over one of these guys? Since becoming a starter on May 19th, the Twins are 40-17. He is averaging 10.51 strikeouts/9 innings pitched—better than any pitcher in baseball. He also has a 1.93 ERA, a .97 WHIP, and rarely gives up a home run. But what it really comes down to is that pitchers these days are just more valuable than hitters. When Estaban Loaiza can get $7,000,000 from the Billy Beane, you know something is up. When Franciso Liriano has been more valuble than 2004 Cy Young teammate Johan Santana in 37 less innings pitched, you also know you have something special. There are plenty of great hitters—and I’ve mentioned all the candidates—but there are only a couple special pitchers. Francisco Liriano won’t win the award this year, but he should.

Alternative Drugs? Yes Please

2006-07-21T13:00:00.000-04:00

There have been many surprises in Major League Baseball this year. The Tigers are in first place, the Reds are making a run at the NL Central and the Mets are beating expectations in the East. Yet, these are not among the biggest shockers. Even more compelling are the years apparent junkies Ron Villone, Gary Matthews JR., Garrett Atkins and Chien-Ming Wang are having. These players are having good years because they either took tai style kick boxing in the off-season, spent hours in the gym, and many more hours watching tapes, OR took tai style kick boxing, spent hours in the gym and many hours watching tapes on DRUGS. There is no way that these talentless athletes could possibly be having good years, unless it was for something unnatural, right?

Ron Villone

In case you don’t know Villone, he is a left-handed reliever for the Yankees. He is the “go-to” guy, when the Yanks need a lefty to get more than one out (see Mike Myers for a more thorough explanation). A wandering mendicant, Villone has seen the cities of Seattle, San Diego, Milwaukee, Cleveland, Cincinatti, Houston, Colorado, Pittsburgh, Florida and now New York. Never one to perform “well” in the past, Villone currently has a 2.14 ERA, and is avererging about 7 strikeouts per 9 innings of work. That, coupled with his age, 36, lead me to believe that he is on something performance enhancing. Possible drug choice: Boost nutrition for the elderly, Viagra.

Chien-Ming Wang

Another Yankee pitching surprisingly well. Wang, or “Wong,” as he likes to be called, is the only Major League player with ties to Taipai Ti Wu University. And it was maybe at this school where he scored, “big.” Yet could Wang, like another Asian athlete Yao Ming, be the product of, dare I say it, eugenics. At 6’3”, is Wang clearly Taipai’s failed attempt at making a basketball star, and instead, Taipai forced Wang to make something of himself as a mediocre baseball player? Only time will tell, but for the moment, I’ll be watching Wang, if this indeed is his real name, and his sinking fastball for the rest of the year with questionable uncertainty. Possible drug of choice: Eugenically forced upbringing/Yao Ming’s failed bizzaro twin.

Darren Oliver

See Ron Villone.

Garrett Atkins, Brandon Hawpe, and that Holliday fellow

And then God said, “Give Atkins, Hawpe, and that Holliday fellow who no ones heard of some hitting ability, for they hath found faith not through playboy, loud, youthful music, or the rocky mountain refreshment which happens to sponsor the stadium they play in, but instead, in ME.” I’ve mentioned this before, but the story is too good to leave alone. The Rockies are being called a, “Christian” team, and they are not allowed to have Playboy, or even Maxim in their locker room. But then again, if I was Atkins, Hawpe or that Holliday fellow, I would probably become a believer too. All three are having career years with over .300 averages and plus-power. Drug of choice: GOD. But who will they blame when they suck next year?

Gary Matthews Jr.

Another nomad turned star, Matthews is having a career year batting .326/.371/.520. This has been rather uncharacteristic of Matthews who in the past was more of a “last possible option.” So what happened, what has gotten into Matthews this year? Why is he hitting well? In other words, what is he on? He started his career in San Diego and has since played for the Cubs, Pirates, Mets and Orioles. Yet, he has only played decently well since joining the Rangers three years ago. Hence, Matthews is benefiting from Texas—the lone star state. Or, the friendly confines of the Ballpark at Arlington. I don’t have the exact numbers, nor want to explain the “sabermetrics,” of the Rangers home field compared to that of a normal stadium, but let’s just say, it helps to play in a park that turns Shrek, or Kevin Mench and his size 8 head into a bonefide everyday player. Drug of choice: Sweet Texas Puneta. YEEHAAAA!!!!

The Greatest Job on Earth

2006-07-18T15:20:00.000-04:00

It’s a question many people ponder. If I could have done it differently, what would I have done? What would I have majored in at college? What would I have worked harder at to put me in a better position now? Some say being an actuary is solid because you make lots of money and it’s largely merit based. Others say real estate appraising is nice. Who doesn’t like spending half their day checking out elaborate properties? Financial planner, restaurant manager, aspiring porn star, college professor—these are all great professions, but they’re not even close to the greatest one of all…Bullpen specialist.

That’s right, the greatest job on earth currently belongs to Mike Myers and to some extent Chad Bradford. These guys live very comfortably off a “special skill.” Myers is a left-handed sidearm whiz. He often times comes into the game to face one batter, and regardless of how he fares, he leaves the game after facing that batter. In the last two ballgames, Myers only needed to make one pitch. Let’s check this out: Between the time it takes for Myers to warm up, jog to the mound, pitch, then jog to the dugout is all of about fifteen minutes and then his day is done.

But before Myers, there were other skilled professional athletes who barely worked for their money. Men like retiree Steve Reed, who to me, embodies the American dream. OK, that’s taking it a bit far, but his playing career was still pretty fucking cool.

Steven Vincent Reed is a 6’2”, 209 lb un-athletic, sidearm legend. He played college ball at Lewis-Clark State College where I am sure he gained his drinking and baseball prowess. His scouting report from STATS INC. reads: “Reed can help a contending team, but in a seventh/eighth-inning role. He has not shown an ability to close out games at the big league level. However, he isn't afraid of coming into a mid-inning jam and will throw strikes. He's a luxury on a non-contender because of the limited role.” STATS inc. also explains how Reed’s unique sidearm/submarine delivery often times puzzled right-handers, but that lefties have a career .288 average against him. So what does all this mean?

It means Steve Reed was a major league baseball player, without being a Major League Baseball Player. He was a luxury item, who got paid $900,000/year to pitch in select instances, to a couple batters (maximum) at a time. In 2004, he pitched a total of 66 innings in 65 appearances. Let me do the math for you: in a 162 game season Steve Reed can expect to pitch in about 1/3 of the games for one inning. That is like two games/two innings a week, or, in other words, plenty of free time. He was also never in the game when it really counted—he is not good enough to be. Although one could argue that Steve has a very respectable career ERA of 3.67, and 6.5 SO/9 IP, who are we kidding? He is not nearly as good as these numbers suggest because he is so bad against left-handers that he can’t be left in the game if someone even as unrespectable as Aaron Guile comes to the plate. So there go the pressures of playing. And the working out question is laughable. Although I can’t say it is a fact, I am willing to bet that Steve did a lot more 12-ounce elbow extensions, than 35 lb curling.

But the luxuries do not stop there for Reed, or Mike Myers. Games, excluding weekends, are usually played at night, which means you can easily sleep till at least noon, and if you had one too many after the game the night before why not just sleep till one, two, or even three—I mean if you play the numbers, you are probably not going to play that day anyways. And trust me, if you’re Reed or Myers you can go to the supermarket or anywhere else for that matter and not worry about anyone taking photos.

Mike Myers has made 303 total pitches so far this year, and we’ll say barring injury, that he should end up with about 600 pitches total. Randy Johnson, on the other hand, has 1972 pitches. We’ll double that, and say he’ll end up with 3944. This year, Myers makes $1,150,000, while Johnson makes $15,661,427. Per pitch, Myers makes about $1,916 and Johnson makes about $3,970. Sure, Johnson makes twice as much money for his work, but also has the pressures of being in the spotlight of the New York City media, pitching against hitters regardless if they’re right or left-handed, and can’t be seen in a public place without being harassed about his performance the night before. I’ll take Myers job over Johnson’s, over a financial planner’s, and even over an actuary’s. After all, you can’t beat these perks.

The All-Shit Team

2006-07-13T13:19:00.000-04:00

Yes sports fans—the midway point in baseball is not only reserved for All-Stars. For stars wouldn’t be stars if there weren’t horribly shitty players to compare them too, right? Hmm…Anyway, I was going to simply insert the Cubs starting lineup minus Derek Lee and call the article quits, but after visiting Chicago and having a swash buckling good time, I’ve decided to go ahead and write the whole thing, with or without Cubbies. The premise for making the All-Shit team is pretty self-explanatory. Naturally, if you have been the worst starting player at your position in the first half, you’ve made it. The only catch here is the word starting…I’m not going to pick on a guy who only got twenty major league at bats, batted .120, and then got sent back down to Tulsa. No, you have to be a player having a shit year and getting paid enough to force the team into playing you. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the All-Shit team.

1B: Richie Sexson

Just when you thought Bavasi made a good move in Seattle. After having a standout 2005 with 39 ding dongs, Sexson either hates the people of Seattle, has re-injured his back, or wants to give up baseball and try playing the “3” for the Supersonics. So far, Sexson is batting .218, with a whopping .418 slugging percentage. These numbers would barely be acceptable for a wizard of a shortstop, nonetheless, a lumbering goon at first base.

2B: Kazuo Matsui

Kaz has the rare honor of not only making my “Guys Who Should Have Done Steroids Team,” but also the All-Shit team. Though I guess it makes sense. The Mets got sick of Matsui’s 8-plus millon dollar/year contract, and finally offloaded him to the Rockies for a box of condoms and a couple cases of insulted Coors light. Maybe management should reconsider humidifying the balls. Even after going to Colorado, Matsui is only batting .200, with 1 home run, though I’m sure his bible studies are rolling along just fine.

3B: Vinny Castilla

Maybe Castilla corked his bat with diarrhea, I don’t know. What I do know is Castilla is clearly having one of the worst years in baseball--Period. His .232/.261/.321 line makes me want to vomit, and I don’t even care that he plays in a pitchers park. Towers should go down as one of the most overrated GM’s in the business. Though he gave away a pitcher who threw out his arm for Castilla, he should have found someone better than a 38-year-old ex-Rockies star. Better = anyone from the bat girl to Bruce Bochy’s mustache.

SS: Clint Barmes

He’s hitting .208 in Coors. That about says it all. O ya, quite a double play combo going on in Denver.

LF: Garret Anderson

Where have you gone my sweet little Rally Monkey?!?!? It seems that my instincts were correct to never trust a team propelled to World Series victory by a fucking monkey. The Angels have a losing record, and their left fielder has a lot to do with it. The Orange County outfielder has been on the decline since his 2003 season. At age 34, a .713 OPS, and with plenty of minor league depth waiting in the reigns to take his job, it would be wise of the Angels to unload the deteriorating face of the franchise. As agent Smith says to Neo: “You hear that Mr. Anderson? That is the sound of inevitability... Goodbye, Mr. Anderson...”

CF: Brian Anderson

I was praying Juan Pierre’s shitty season would continue, but he’s picked it up of late, and consequently, his cross-town rival, has easily jumped onto the first team. A former stud-prospect, Anderson is now hitting a paraplegic .192, while slugging .324. Perhaps the White Sox would be in better shape if they didn’t trade an even better prospect Chris Young for Javier Vazquez in the off season. But then again, Anderson can’t be hurting the team too bad when you have 57 wins at the All-Star break.

RF: Jeromy Burnitz

I made fun of the Pirates in my last article, but Christ, I guess I just can’t leave Burnitz alone. A wandering power hitting mendicant of sorts, Burnitz seems to close his eyes and swing as hard as he can every time he steps up to the plate. Sometimes it works out, and he hits a home run, and other times, like in 2006, he makes outs. This year, Burnitz has 56 hits, 57 strikeouts, and 12 home runs. I guess a fair percentage of his hits are for home runs, but when you don’t walk, and you only hit home runs, then that .277 OBP doesn’t take you very far. Nevertheless, I’m sure someone will trade for Burnitz by the end of the year. He’s a veteran, after all.

C: Jason Kendall

Well…I don’t really have anything positive to say about Kendall, except that he should’ve stayed with his former ball club, strapped on an eye patch and declared himself the newest addition to PNC park’s mascot battalion. For now, however, Kendall will have to keep playing poorly in Oakland. His OBP for a catcher isn’t terrible, at .339, but his .319 slugging percentage is pre-1920. Even “geniuses” like Beane make mistakes…big 11 million dollar mistakes. But not to worry A’s fans, Kurt Suzuki looks pretty fresh.

PITCHER: Chris Mabeus

I didn’t want to do this to anyone, and I know I said I would only include starters for the All-Shit team, but poor Mabeus is probably going to end the year with the funniest line in baseball. Like Freddy Sanchez before him, Chris Mabeus attended some of my college’s practices to offer his pitching advice. Perhaps my college jinxed his career. Mabeus didn’t get a fair shot at the big league level. Pitching in just 1 game, for 1 1/3 innings, Mabeus gave up four runs, on four hits and 3 walks, while striking out 2. This was his only shot to pitch and he didn’t do very well. Currently, his ERA sits at 21.60. That being said, I wish him the best of luck and hope he gets another shot at the big league level. Until then, I’m sorry to say, he will remain on the shit list.

Contemplations on All-Star Game 2006

2006-07-10T18:14:00.000-04:00

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Home to one of, if not the most aesthetically pleasing ballparks in all of baseball. Pittsburgherians are most deserving for such an occasion as the All-Star game. According to MLB.com, locals are known for their friendly nature and community pride. They also have an array of delicious bars and restaurants inside and within a few miles of PNC park. Try the Market Street Ale House for a great happy hour (21 Market Square), or, if you’re into live music and go to Carnegie Mellon on a fine arts scholarship, the Lava Lounge (2204 E. Carson Street), which apparently has molten and coral covered booths. The Pirates website reads, “Perhaps the strongest inspiration for PNC Park's design is the legacy of the Pirates themselves. Few cities can boast of a 115-year relationship with the same Major League ballclub. Pittsburgh deserves nothing less than a ballpark classic that will enthrall fans for generations to come.” And if they wish to have another 115 years in Pittsburgh they should probably stop putting poo in right field, first base, center field, catcher, and in the entire bullpen. Yes, Pittsburghers deserve to see some real players. Take a day off Sean Casey, Jeremy Burnitz, and Nate McClouth, you have taken too many victims in your career already. Make way for some real baseball stars. The Chicago White and the New York Mets are coming to town—get excited. (The White Sox and Mets have a combined thirteen players in this years game.)

But besides the festivities and the lounging, what does the All-Star game really mean? Does anybody really care who wins or loses? Does Bud Selig’s home field advantage rule change make any sense? Should Ozzie Guillen be banned permanently from the All-Star game for leaving off Travis Hafner and Francisco Liriano, in favor of Paul Konerko and Mark Buehrle? Not to say that these two haven’t had quality years, but you’re talking about the best hitter and best pitcher in baseball so far this year, not on the All-Star roster. Naughty Baseball explores.

I don’t think I’ve watched the All-Star game in its entirety since I was twelve, and judging by baseball’s recently passed rule changes, not many other people care either. At one point, apparently, back when men were men, and played their hearts out every game for the simple glory of playing, the All-Star game was really popular. The year was 1933. Now, I’m not saying I blame the players for not trying harder, I’m just criticizing the recently passed rule changes by Bud Selig. The winner of the All-Star game gets home field advantage for their league in that years World Series. Now, maybe Ozzie’s “own” selections make more sense. Perhaps, he thinks that if he puts more White Sox on the team than they will try harder because they are actually playing for an extra game in the World Series. For instance, if I’m Mark Redman, maybe I wouldn’t throw my injury prone arm out for the ultimate glory of the White Sox, Tigers, Yankees or Red Sox. Not to mention that in a grueling 162 game season, three-days rest in mid-July is nothing short of paradise. Drinking beers on my porch or playing baseball another day? The choice is easy.

The much hyped home run derby is kind of cool, but still nothing to brag about. An endless amount of “towering” home runs kind of loses steam after the first batter. Sure, It’ll be fun to see Ryan Howard, David Ortiz and Miguel Cabrera smash baseballs, but Lance Berkman and Jermaine Dye? I could do without. Now, if there was a legends of home run derby, where roided ex-celebrities like Jose Canseco, Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa could try their luck against Berkman and co., this would be worth my precious time. Yet, somehow I don’t think this is the message MLB wants to send.

While I have filed many complaints about the All-Star game, I don’t have many solutions on how to solve it. My advice: take a few days off from baseball. Unless of course you live in Pittsburgh. In that case, hit the Ale House for a couple brews, and pray Kevin McClatchy learns something from the game. Maybe Pittsburgh will stop torturing their fans, and actually sign one of these “stars.”

Blabitty Bla

2006-07-06T13:14:00.000-04:00

Random Findings From The Week in Sports And Music And….

• I detest Adam Morrison. Can someone please tell me why it’s cool to cry after a sporting event? Win or lose. He’s getting promotional packages and they even let him keep his little mustache. Is this the role model we want for the youth? A gangly trash talking white kid from Washington State who cries and, apparently, wants to make the rest of the NBA cry.

• Jim Callis of Baseball America found a hilarious misquote by the LA Times. It is about number one baseball draft pick Luke Hochevar, whose super agent is the infamous Scott Boras. It reads: "Scott had a plan in this, and his master plan definitely worked. It was tough through it—you go through it and you fight it—but when it all comes down to it, Scott has a plan for you, and he definitely worked a miracle in my case." Now, replace Scott with the word God and this was what Hochevar actually said. But remember readers—when times are tough, Scott Boras has a plan for you…

• I guess I was slightly amiss when I said a month ago that the Reds and Rockies weren’t for real and would fall from their perches high in the mountains. Though their records have substantially decreased, the Reds are two games out of first place in a weak central and half a game behind the wild card, while the Rockies are tied for first in the West. Nevertheless, I will predict once again, that neither of these teams will make it into the playoffs. HAHAHA—silly Reds fans…

• Congratulations Feddy Sanchez. I have no real good reason for liking Sanchez, except that he came to a couple of my college practices. He prophetically promised that our college would win more than five games—we won three that year. Sanchez was a journeyman minor leaguer at the time, yet now he’s an All–Star: currently batting .358 with a .521 slugging percentage.

• Italy V. France in the World Cup. Being Italian, I have to root for Italy. But after living with real Italians (in Italy) for some time last year, I almost feel obligated to root for their arch-nemesis—France. I’ll ultimately cheer for the overtly dramatic Italians with “fab” hairdos, but I believe France will win. Thierry Henry is too much.

• This isn’t a music site, but why the fuck not? I saw the Futureheads on Friday and last night, saw the Rakes. The Futureheads had a solid act, but I can’t stand when rock bands, including “angular” bands, try to do things like sing a capella back and forth to each other. It was strange and awkward. The Rakes on the other hand, had an Andy Dick look-a-like as their lead singer, except he was talented. The Rakes just started their tour (last night was their first stop), and if they come through your city I highly advise you give them a gander.

I’m out to Chicago for the weekend, but I'll be back Monday to start All-Star coverage.

Ode to Spaceman Lee

2006-06-29T19:13:00.000-04:00

I had the honor of meeting Bill “Spaceman” Lee when I was eleven-years-old at a charity softball tournament. He is probably the only person I met in my life who I thought was cool then, and even more diesel now. One of the only countercultural sports icons ever, he played for the Red Sox from 1969-1978, and finished up his career in Montreal in 1982. He grew up in Burbank, California and was a standout pitcher for USC in the 60’s.

Spaceman is Naughty Baseball’s quintessential competitor. Pretty much everything I find fascinating about athletes Lee has done. Lee was a “typical” left-handed pitcher, throwing a lot of junk to get hitters out. His arsenal consisted of a heavy-sinking fastball, and slow breaking pitches. Most notably, his famous “leephus” pitch, an uber-uber-slow curve, made famous in such films as Rookie of the Year, starring Thomas Ian Nicholas. His junk was pretty good, however, ending his career with a lifetime 3.62 ERA. But in the end, while Lee was a well regarded player, it was his off and sometimes on the field antics, which made him so likeable.

Like many Major League pitchers, Lee obtained a career altering injury that hurt his fastball. But unlike most pitchers, who usually attain injuries pitching, Lee did it in brawl. That’s right, the guy separated his shoulder in a brawl with Yankee Graig Nettles. Could you imagine this happening today? I mean…not the fact that a pitcher was out there, but that a pitcher was the focal point, putting his balls on the line for his teammates.

Lee also gave management in Boston and Montreal all kinds of headaches, standing up for his bros. In Boston, his buddy Bernie Carbo was traded to the Indians. Lee protested: he stormed into the locker room, cleaned out his locker and told the team he would retire. He was subsequently fined $533 for the incident, and replied by asking if they could make it $1500 so he could take off the whole weekend. A similar situation occurred with the Expos. Friend Rodney Scott was released, and Lee staged a one game protest. Unlike the first time, however, Lee did not return, opting for retirement in 1982.

Besides standing up for his friends, Spaceman freely voiced his support of Greenpeace, Maoist China and anything else that crossed his mind. He lived and still does live day-to-day saying, “I do things spontaneously and not premeditated. I take things as they come and live my life in the present. What I do everyday is what I want to do. If I want to hunt turkeys I have fun doing that.”

Fighter, protester, spontaneous wild turkey hunter--could it get any better? He also loves marijuana, and, apparently, alcohol. Not that it means you’re cool if you do these things, but…The spaceman said he used to sprinkle weed on his buckwheat pancakes in the morning and that the wacky-tabacky made him impervious to bus fumes. On drug testing, "The other day they asked me about mandatory drug testing. I said I believed in drug testing a long time ago. All through the sixties I tested everything." When asked if he were to be paid the same way players are today what he would do with it: “Oh, I’d be dead. There’s no doubt about it, with all the bar owners I know. There’s no way I’d be alive today.”

While I’ve painted a picture of this man as a rough and tumble stoner alcoholic, this is not entirely true. Spaceman Lee is extremely intelligent. He has three books published, insightful political commentary and his own wood bat company. So is there anyone in the 00’s comparable to Spaceman in baseball? Any rebel, with half a brain and such dazzling ideas? It’s sad to say, but there’s no other human athlete in this country with half of Lee’s wisdom. I couldn’t even make up a funnier guy. Cheers Spaceman, we need more guys like you in sports…and in life.

Note. Much of the info. in this article was obtained from these sites:
Boston Phoenix
Boston.com
And of course, Wikipedia

Managerial Report

2006-06-26T16:48:00.000-04:00

Inspired by this recent outburst by Minor League manager Joe Mikulik, I thought it was about time for a Major League managerial evaluation. The wittiest, dumbest, shrewdest—there can be only one.

Give him eight Albert Pujol’s and five Johan Santana’s and this man will still find a way to lose.

Dusty Baker has had some success in his career, managing the Giants to a thrilling World Series loss to the rally monkey inspired Angels of Anaheim in 2002. But then again, he had Bonds. Currently, the Cubs are the third worst team in baseball with a record of 28-46. Now, I know the Cubs have been riddled with injuries, but many of these**cough cough**Mark Prior and Kerry Wood, have resulted from outdated baseball rhetoric and extremely high pitch counts. I can’t blame Dusty (though I’d like too) for Derek Lee’s freakish injury, and the Cubs should be a little more successful the rest of the year with him, but this record is inexcusable. There is no excuse for hating young talent and giving Neifi Perez playing time.

I wouldn’t want to date his daughter.

It’s Senior Prom 2001. You pull up in your dad’s SUV to pick up your date. You ring the doorbell—here it is, the moment you’ve lost sleep over the past two weeks. Tony La Russa opens up. He stands instinctively holding a glass of rye whiskey on the rocks in one hand and shakes your hand with the other. You walk in the living room as La Russa sizes you up. You know what he’s thinking, ‘WHAT DA FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO DO TO MY DAUGHTER? I WILL SLICE YOUR FUCKING FACE OPEN YOU SKINNY, ROTTEN PIECE OF SHIT BASTARD OF A PROM DATE! YOU KNOW WHO I AM! A GUARDIAN ANGEL! MY DAUGHTER’S FUCKING GUARDIAN ANGEL!’ Sweat slowly beads down your head. “Come here, I want to show you something,” La Russa jeers. The trophy room shines with medieval weapons—a ballista here, a thrusting dagger there. “Have her home by midnight,” is all the wise man says, but you get the feeling he means much more.

He’s got a good poker face.

I sincerely believe that Joe could take fifteen tequila shots, smoke six joints, drop a tab of ecstasy and still manage the Yanks the same way he has been over the past decade. Torre has sat in the in same place on the bench, and while the people around him have changed somewhat, the Yankee maxims have remained the same: Jeter’s pretty good at that backhand play in the hole, and bring in Rivera as often as humanly possible. The media says this is the first year Joe has had to really manage. The truth is, the real Joe Torre died ages ago. Steinbrenner had worked on project T for sometime, before perfecting the appropriate terminology and personality that a robot manager needed. The project has been a complete success—since taking over on Nov. 2nd, 1995, Robot Torre has won four world series rings, a manager of the year award in 1998, and offered some colorful quotes, including: “I have arthritis in my fingers, and picking my nose helps stretch the finger joints and keep them flexible. Oftentimes I switch fingers -- even hands -- mid-pick.”

What a Buzz Kill.

The Scene: A bar, let’s say, Mother’s in Chicago, made famous by the 1980’s classic About Last Night.

Ozzie Guillen: What are you doing? Light beer is for fucking fags.

ME: Om…I like Amstel Light, and in the Netherlands Amstel Light is actually just Amstel, so it’s not really a…

Guillen: Shut the fuck up, you Eistein-wanna-be clown faced motherfucker. I saw you dancing with a fat chick too.

ME: I mean, she wasn’t skinny, but fat seems a bit harsh.

Guillen: You want to have fat fucking retarded fag children, go right a fucking head—see if Ozzie gives a shit.

ME: Well…

Guillen: Just kidding man. In Venezuela this means we’re buddies.

(In case you didn’t get the memo, Guillen called a reporter a fag last week. Albeit, a really shitty reporter.)

I’m not jealous of his job.

Buddy Bell has the worst job in baseball, and, possibly, the entire United States of America. He has to somehow manage the Royals out of embarrassment and into respectability. The mess Allan Baird and the rest of the brains in upper management, have left Bell with nominal, AKA awful, non-talented trash: Mark Grudzielenak, Doug Mientkiewicz and Scott Elarton are the “stars.” To add insult to injury, the rest of the division is really good: the Twins have won 12/13, the Indians were picked by many to win the division, and the White Sox and Tigers are dominating not just the AL Central, but MLB as a whole. Good luck Buddy, good luck.

How Bout Them Bulls

2006-06-21T18:23:00.000-04:00

It’s official, I love the Tampa Devil Rays, or, more specifically, the D-Rays Triple-A affiliate Durham Bulls. The team that once featured Nuke LaLoosh, has moved onto bigger and better things. At the beginning of the year I was thrilled to see Elijah Dukes, Delmon Young and BJ Upton all on the same roster. For one thing, they are all extremely talented athletes, and for another thing,

Dukes + Young + Upton + hot weather + living in Durham + Devil Rays organization = anger…deep seeded anger.

Elijah Dukes past antics have been well documented on this site. To summarize, he has been arrested twice before age eighteen, and five times since joining the Devil Rays. He consistently shows up late or misses practices/games, and has attended many anger management classes. In other words, imagine Milton Bradley…on a bad day…with hemorrhoids, multiply that by five and you end up with Dukes. And he has made headlines once again—suspended indefinitely for the remainder of the season for an unspecified reason. Yet, it was only a matter of time before Dukes joined his AAA Durham Bull teammates in community service in 2006. Earlier this year, stud Delmon Young threw a bat at an umpire and was suspended fifty games. Just last week, another uber-prospect BJ Upton got a DUI. He is expected to appear in court on August 1st. I am pretty curious to know what Dukes did this year to be suspended indefinitely. After all, if Young can throw a bat at an umpire and “only” be suspended fifty games, Dukes must have done something awful.

Some possibilities:

1) Dukes beats fan mercilessly with brass knuckles after fan confuses Dukes, with another Duke (below) of the Pittsburg Pirates.

2) Dying of hunger during the seventh inning stretch, Dukes decides to eat Wool E. Bull, and Lucky the Wonder Dog.

3) Strange things are afoot at DBAP (Durham Bulls Athletic Park). Dukes caught in Cleveland Steamer fiasco.

But seriously now, I feel bad for even speculating about Elijah committing such deeds. He is one of my favorite players. In fact, I love reading about the Durham Bulls more than most Major League teams. Not to say that I condone such behavior, but there’s nothing better than when a player says/does what he’s not supposed to do. As Crash says to Nuke in Bull Durham, “it’s time you started working on your interviews…learn your clichés…study them…know them.” And there is something eerily true about this statement. Pick up the paper--this is all the crap you hear from athletes. As Minor Leaguers, Young and Dukes make ESPN headlines not for their ability (which is ESPN worthy), but, instead, for their behavior. Attendance is up in Durham this year for a reason. It’s kind of like a reality show down there in Durham, you never know what’s going to happen next. Even manager John Tamargo is getting into the action. He was suspended for ten games earlier this year for bumping an umpire.

The best thing about all this is that the player’s getting into trouble, are all really fucking good. So good, that despite all their off and on the field issues, that, eventually, all three will be in the big leagues. If not with the D-Rays, with another team. I used to debate with my friend about who has the “toughest” team in baseball. It won’t be much of a debate in 2008: Young, Dukes, Upton, and Jonny Gomes are quite a fierce foursome.

I pray for thee public relations people of Tampa Bay in 2008, you are in for a good one.

Your Guide to the College World Series

2006-06-19T17:41:00.000-04:00

As a recent college graduate (if last May is considered recent), and fan of college sports in general, I feel morally obligated to give a little rundown on the Division I Baseball College World Series. College baseball kicks ass for a number of reasons. One being, pitcher’s lives are always in danger, and home runs are plentiful. Giving a first round draft talent a metal bat is seemingly ludicrous, yet, this is what makes college baseball so special. Just last week, I saw a super regional match-up between South Carolina and Georgia. South Carolina hit five bombs in a row—I’ve never seen anything like it. It was incredible. College baseball is also awesome for every other reason college sports are better than pro sports: these guys aren’t playing for money and pussy, they’re only playing for pussy. Consequently, they play the game with more burning passion than any pro could ever possibly muster. Not beating out an infield single could be the difference between getting a BJ from Sally Sure Thing, or another night of wanking it to Scott Podednik’s fiancé.

The Basics

The College World Series is a double elimination tournament composed of eight teams. The 2006 competition includes: North Carolina, Rice, Miami, Clemson, Cal State Fullerton, Georgia, Oregon State, and Georgia Tech. So far, only Georgia Tech has been eliminated. North Carolina is leading after upsetting Clemson in their last game.

Now let’s go to the mailbag to answer some questions about the World Series.

Dear Naughty Baseball,

In your opinion, which team do you think gets laid the most? Will it be the World Series champion, or not?

-Darren from Connecticut

Well Darren, this is a tough two-part question. For starters, I’d say the school with the most chicks beforehand, regardless of baseball, would get the most girls in general because their status would simply be elevated as a result of their team’s success. That being said, I haven’t visited any of these schools, but have heard many rumors about them. I’ll start with the maxim that good things do come in dumb packages. Thus, among these eight teams, Rice and UNC are too academically superior to remain in the class of the remaining six. If I had to pick one over the other, it'd certainly be UNC. Rice is an engineering school after all. Next, I’d say that beautiful women generally flock to warm, nice climates. This eliminates Oregon State, and although I know the weather in South Carolina is nice, it’s no California or Florida, so that slides Clemson out. Furthermore, I refuse to let a tech school make it past this point. That leaves Miami, Cal State Fullerton, and Georgia. I went to school in California, but I just don’t see Fullerton beating out Georgia or Miami. I’ve heard legendary stories about Georgia’s party scene and beautiful women. And Miami does have an excellent marine biology program, which sets them back. Yet, I have to crown Miami the champions because their baseball program is more renowned.

Winning would provide any team with a better chance when they return to their campuses. It’s an easy line: I’m a champion. It would probably help out a no name benchwarmer more than the starters. Yet, the studs would still remain studs, regardless of a victory or not, but winning certainly wouldn’t hurt.

To Naughty Baseball:

Big fan here. Read your site all the time. Which players do you think get the most ass? Shortstops, catchers, pitchers, etc.?

-Steve from New York

Individually, I’m going to say top draft choices must pull a ton of tail because of their signing bonuses. Like I said earlier, the difference between being a pro and not, is a matter of money. Once you give a 22-year-old whose nasty at baseball two million dollars, the possibilities are endless. I imagine Andrew Miller (UNC), Daniel Bard (UNC), and Tyler Colvin (Clemson) are doing pretty well for themselves as first round draft picks this year.

As far as positions are concerned, this topic is very debatable. Making everything else equal, and based on personal observations, I’m going to place catchers last. Their job is too hard to remain pretty. The rest of the positions are too arguable to list in any order. However, pitchers are in a category of their own. They may have a lot of offerings for girls, including a slide piece, straight fastball, cutter, sinker and change, but I can’t really say if they get more ass or not because they’re just too strange and too different from position players. Look at MLB players, who are the weird ones? Barry Zito, Turk Wendell, Jason Isringhausen, Derrick Turnbow, Tim Hudson—they’re all pitchers.

Naughty Baseball,

Who will win this years college World Series?

-F. Scott from Boston.

Miami--I expect a lot of clutch play off the bench. After all, they have a lot more to lose.

MLB Mascot Ratings

2006-06-15T13:24:00.000-04:00

Mascots have been a hot topic in the sports-web world this year. The nation has voiced their opinion about the funniest nicknames. According to Deadspin, I believe the Rhode Island School of Design took home first prize by having a penis and giant balls as their mascot, and call themselves the Nads. While MLB team names can’t hold a candle to these guys, team web pages often provide bios and long explanations of why their mascot exists and his role in the community. That being said, I’ve designated a system for evaluating the usefulness and overall value that a MLB mascot gives their team.

Mascots will be judged on a scale of 1-5 based on the following criteria:

1) Spirit: As Sparky Polastri says in Bring It On, “these are spirit fingers…and these are gold.” OK, I might have to kick my own ass for quoting this movie, but Polastri does know best. Mascots are there to inspire and get the drunken crowd involved in the game. And to inspire they need spirit—joy, happiness, a cunning wit. In other words, W.I.T. (whatever it takes) to get the job done.

2) Tenacity: How badass is your mascot? Is he going to strike fear in the opposing team, or is he going to be playing patty cake with the cute M.I.L.F.’s in the left field bleachers? While mascots are there to cheer (see number 1), they are also there to help the team win. And winning means intimidating…I guess.

3) Relevance: Now, this category is here because some mascots just don’t make sense. For instance, if your name is the Beavers, you can’t have a military assassin as your main man. But if you garner your beaver in grenades, M16 rifles, and a patch over his left eye, that’s fine by me. You just can’t do something completely out of left field.

4) Hilarity: While this may be confused with spirit, it shouldn’t be. Humor may help a mascot achieve more spirit, yet, the two are distinct. Spirit implies more than being funny: it’s in a broader spectrum, more about how much “impact” a mascot has during the game. Hilarity, in my mind, is the mascot’s most important job. If he brings a smile to my face, he’s done his job.

5) Accolades: What has this mascot achieved in his tenure with the club? Is he popular? Do people like him? Has he made a name for himself or what?

I’m going to start with the American League East today, and finish up the rest of the league over the course of the season.

Baltimore Orioles

What is it: Naturally, an Oriole. His name though, is simply, “The Bird.”

What you should know: Hatched out of a giant egg in Memorial stadium in 1979, The Bird, has been terrorizing families with his stupid smile and little hat for nearly thirty years. I think owner Peter Angelos has lost his mind, as this bird has a number of important responsibilities including being the official Goodwill Ambassador of the team, as well as making public appearances (for a fee, of course.) He also, “bats with both wings,” and his hobbies include “sliding on dugouts and acting like a birdbrain.”

Spirit: 2
Tenacity: 1
Relevance: 4
Hilarity: 1
Accolades: 4 (Goodwill Ambassador after all)
Total: 12

What it all means: Throw him in a fire and slather his “birdbrain” ass in BBQ.

Toronto Blue Jays

What is it: Ace—a giant Blue Jay.

What you should know: I’ll tell you what, I like Ace. He’s got a lot of things working for him. For starters, unlike the Oriole, he hasn’t put a hat on his head. Instead, his head and face cone out, creating an illusion of viciousness. His hands match his head, blue, and resemble gloves—why would he need gloves? I don’t want to know. His profile lends to his personality: “Ace is always hatching up a plan to foil the other team. He likes to playfully ruffle the feathers of the officials and players alike. His eagle eye helps him catch fly balls and spot opportunities for mischief." His hobbies include, “people watching,” and his grandfather supposedly, co-wrote the song, “Rockin’ Robin.”

Spirit: 3
Tenacity: 5
Relevance: 4
Hilarity: 1 (I wouldn’t laugh at him if I were you)
Accolades: 2
Total: 15

What it all means: Don’t fuck with Ace. He’s watching your every move.

Tampa Bay Devil Rays

What is it: Raymond, a….a…..Jesus, there’s a rather long explanation for what he is exactly: Not knowing what this thing was, marine biologists finally discovered that he was of the undiscovered species called, "Canus Manta Whatthefluffalus," or a seadog.

What you should know: Apparently, a lot. Raymond’s bio is longer than any of the players who actually play on the Rays. You might say Raymond is a bit more eclectic than the other mascots. He likes full contact shuffleboard, belly dancing, extreme chess, and of course, reading. His background is best explained verbatim from his site: “In early 1998, Rays scouts on a fishing trip in the Gulf of Mexico spotted a strange looking animal. The creature, apparently drawn to the boat by the smell of hotdogs on the hibachi, climbed aboard and soon won the scouts over with his silly antics.” Raymond also has his own blog and a Q&A page.

Spirit: 3
Tenacity: 3
Relevance: 1
Hilarity: 3
Accolades: 5
Total: 15

What it all means: Damned if I know. Only an organization like the Devil Rays could come up with shit like this.

New York Yankees

What it is: From what I can tell, they don’t have one. They did, however, briefly have a mascot a couple years ago named Dandy—referring to the song, Yankee Doodle Dandy. He was a spotted bird with a cap. This is the best picture I could find.

Proposed new mascot: This patriotic fellow below, or, Miguel Cairo could dress up as a clown and actually earn his money.

Spirit: 5 (Dandy has spirit fingers if I’ve ever seen them)
Tenacity: 2 (he scares me a little)
Relevance: 3
Hilarity: 3
Accolades: 1
Total: 14

What it all means: It’s my guess that the Yankees got rid of Dandy as soon as that looney toon (sorry) Steinbrenner confused him with Yankee-Legend-In-The-Making Randy Johnson.

Boston Red Sox

What is it: Wally the Green Monster. A jolly fellow with a green face, a big orange nose, and a charming smile.

What you should know: He’s shy about his weight, and has secretly been living inside the “wall” since 1947.

Spirit: 4
Tenacity: 2
Relevance: 5 (for creativity)
Hilarity: 2
Accolades: 1
Total: 14

What it all means: You probably shouldn’t let your children get to too close to this thing. It gets lonely in that wall.

Whose To Blame?

2006-06-13T13:13:00.000-04:00

Steroids: I always talk about them, but it seems only natural for this site to cover such an issue. With the events surrounding Jason Grimsley exposing the world to “leaded,” and “unleaded” coffee, that it’s not really a coincidence that MLB players are the only people capable of sporting size “8” hats, that I feel obligated to defend these guys for “cheating.”

Now in no way am I saying steroids (for the purposes of this article when I say steroids, I’m also including amphetamines, growth hormone, horse tranquilizers, cocaine, whatever else floats your boat) are a good thing, or that it’s right to use them. What I am saying is that if there’s anyone to blame for steroid abuse it’s upper-managements’, coaches’, owners’, or, most applicably, the commissioners’. While players were/are the ones choosing to do it, they really aren’t left with much of a choice.

Just like in High School when you were offered your first beer, or when things got weird at college with a couple crack whores, it’s hard to say, “no.” For instance, let’s pretend you are a good, not great AA minor league baseball player. You play 2B, make $800/month, and you compete against someone else who is equally as good as you. One day, you notice how much stronger your fellow second basemen has become. He’s hitting twice as many balls out during batting practice, and, consequently, earns the starting job over you. You have two choices: do what he’s doing and play, or don’t do it and don’t play. But there’s more riding on the line than just playing time. If you play well enough, maybe you graduate to the major league’s where a first year salary starts around $335,000. That’s not a lot of money by MLB standards, but in the real world, that’s a ton. From rags to riches all at the expense of…poor health, cheating America’s most legendary past time.

Hell, let me put it to you this way. If there was a drug that took ten years off ones life, but made one exceptionally intelligent, allowing them to excel at a phenomenal rate at their job, I believe it would be in heavy demand. Instead of landing a $100,000 job at age 32, you’re doing it at 27. How many people would do you know who would turn this down? There was a study done about my generation (the twenty-something generation), and while we’re known for being hard workers, we’re not known for saving. Where as my parents generation were known for grinding it out until you can retire, my generation says, I got a check for $600 this week, I’m going to spend every penny right now, on this bottle of Crystal so I can sit in the VIP section of a “hot” bar (Not that I personally do this). It’s the work hard, party hard, live for the moment crop, and why should baseball players be any different?

It’s my belief that it’s not so much the A-Rod’s, or the Pujol’s who roid, but guys like Grimsley who are struggling to stay at the big league level and succeed financially. And I’m saying this in no way to be a dick, but most of the guys playing ball at this level are not blowing up the SAT’s. Sure, there are the Eric Bruntlett’s and Greg Maddux’s, but for every one of them, there are a hundred more Manny Ramirez’s. Basically, these guys have to earn their money now because the future isn’t burning exceptionally bright. It also doesn’t seem like anyone has told these guys not to do it. Isn’t that why players hire agents, and managers—to guide them and tell them what is right, or wrong, what they should or shouldn’t do? These guys are young, and I don’t believe they know many of the repercussions associated with steroid use. All they see is bling, and I don’t blame them.

In 1998, I was fifteen, took one look at Mark McGuire and thought there was something strangely familiar about him-oh yeah, he looked just like Mariusz Pudzianowski of World’s Strongest Man fame. Yet, MLB executives seemed not to care. This was the year that finally brought MLB back into the Lime Light, back from the 1994 strike doldrums. Revenue was shooting up (ha…haha), fans were going crazy, who didn’t like seeing baseball when it wasn’t anything like regular baseball? When there’s money to be made, sacrifices have to be made as well. Sacrifices, like pretending that Glen Allen Hill and Bret Boone are actually good at baseball. Maybe it’s all just my little conspiracy theory, but how could coaches, owners, managers and the commissioner not know what’s going on? It’s impossible, they must have known, turned a blind eye and were counting on it not to get out of their hands and into the media’s. The Diamondbacks lost seven straight since Grimsley got caught: who is shitting their pants waiting for the Feds to knock on their door? Everybody—except the people in charge. It can’t possibly be their fault, right? Just because they weren’t the ones injecting, doesn’t mean they weren’t the ones supporting.

If They Weren't Playing Baseball They'd Be...

2006-06-07T12:47:00.000-04:00

Naughty Baseball is starting a new series of articles entitled, “if they weren’t playing baseball they’d be…” Obviously, these types of things are very debatable, but I can only imagine how certain player’s lives would be different if baseball didn't exist...then again, this website wouldn't exist either...Hmm...Anyways...

If Scott Podsednik wasn’t playing baseball he’d be…

Pumping gas in Texas. Not that there’s anything wrong with pumping gas, I’m just saying. Anyways, Podsednik is in the majors for one reason or another, but the one I find most appropriate is called “luck.” Podsednik is a throwback—he wears high socks, steals bases and does everything else small ball. He always ‘appears’ to be doing more for his team than he’s actually doing. This is all fine and good if you played in the 1930’s. Only a manger like Ozzie Guillen (and possibly Mike Scioscia) could turn such a bad player into a star and make an entire Northern city love him.

Not to mention this…

Yes, I am jealous. Podsednik is engaged to Lisa Dergan, the playboy playmate ….let’s trade her in for someone more appropriately up Scottie’s alley…someone more like this…

If Bobby Jenks wasn’t playing baseball he’d be…

Doing what he did back in grade school with Pah’, Mah’, and Sis…Wearing overalls, sipping homemade moonshine, and dipping a clip of tobacco on his front porch. While Jenks was born in California, he grew up in the panhandle of Idaho. Although wikipedia needs a citation for the following it says: “…he was a local urban legend for his throwing ability and his wild behavior. Jenks was a heavy drinker and alienated baseball scouts when he and his father rejected one for being a Jew.” Jenks still threw 100 MPH though, and was drafted in 2000 by the Angels. Additionally, it’s documented that throughout his minor league career Jenks was a boozehound, always trying to sneak alcohol on team busses (not that I blame him.) Eventually, Jenks was picked up by the White Sox on waivers, lost weight, gave up booze, saved many a game for the World Champion White Sox, got married and had kids. Nevertheless, Jenks will always hold a special image in my heart as the guy sitting on a porch calling scouts derogatory names.

If AJ Pierzynski wasn’t playing baseball he’d be...

A Human-Fire-hydrant. That’s right, when people leave the bars, drunk and unable to get to the bathroom in time, they could, instead, piss all over AJ. Plus, no charge is required, AJ is just reaching out to the community, paying back his debt to society for being such a ridiculous fucking tool. AJ has been terrorizing the world since Dec. 30th, 1976—the day of his birth. The highlight of his playing career so far was on May 20th of this year, when Michael Barrett socked his bitch-ass in the mouth for being, as usual, a cantankerous tool. Although I applauded this event, other writers seemed to be on AJ’s side. I remember a certain Moriarty of the Chicago Tribune on PTI, saying that if everyone was as comfortable in their shoes as AJ was, the world would be a better place. I vomited in my own mouth. Comfortable in his shoes? Since when was a player who cheated his team to a playoff victory last year so openly praised? The guy was a cancer in every other clubhouse he’s been in and will go down as the tail end of one of the worst trades in baseball history—being swapped for Francisco Liriano, Joe Nathan, and Boof Bonser in 2003. To make matters worse, he appeared in a WWE event this past off-season. Enjoy your playing days AJ, you can’t be a professional dick after you retire.

Off the DL

2006-06-05T16:59:00.000-04:00

Sorry for not posting the last couple of weeks. I was (am) recovering from various broken bones. Though my typing isn't perfect, it's good enough.

Cheers and Enjoy.

Yankees V. Red Sox (The Battle)

2006-06-05T15:37:00.000-04:00

We all know about the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry. In 1918 Babe Ruth was traded to the Yankees…the nightmare that was 2004….And tonight the Yankees play the Red Sox for the eighth time this year and it’s only June 5th. As always, a good, if not great game is expected. What is less predictable is not who wins or loses the game, but who would win or lose in a fight. That’s right—rip off those batting gloves (or leave them on if you prefer) and see who would win a match in the octagon, a no holds bars, bareknuckled fight. For the purposes of the drill, we’ll assume all players are healthy, and a point will be rewarded for each individual fight. At the end, the final score will be totaled and the champion announced.

Without further ado…

1B: Jason Giambi (6’3”, 230 lbs) V. Kevin Youkilis (6’1”, 220 lbs)

Judging by the numbers it seems Youkilis would have a fighting chance of surviving this. However, given Giambi’s stance on steroids and the human growth hormone, my vote sways, strongly, in Jason’s direction. Giambi has overcome cancer—even if it was self-inflicted, does commercials for Arm and Hammer deodorant, and has a father who grew up in the mafia sand island known as Las Vegas. Yoooouk! may be the “Greek God of walks,” given a different situation, but even in this category he’s Giambi’s bitch: 45 walks compared to Kevin’s 38 in 2006.

Just look at this monster.

Winner by TKO: Jason Giambi

2B: Robinson Cano (6’0”, 190 lbs) V. Mark Loretta (6’0”, 185 lbs)

This is pretty laughable. Who would you take in a fight—a middle aged white guy from Santa Monica, California (for the East Coast guys this is like being from Greenwich, CT) who went to Northwestern, or a young kid from the Dominican Republic? I’m sure Loretta possesses that mystical power come to be known as ‘old man strength,’ yet I don’t see him surviving passed round two.

Winner by submission: Robinson Cano

SS: Derek Jeter (6’3”, 195 lbs) V. Alex Cora (6’0”, 200 lbs) and Alex Gonzalez (6’0”, 202 lbs)

I attended college in Los Angeles and was lucky enough to have met Alex Cora at a local bar when he played for the Dodgers. Unless he’s hit the weights Lattimer style the last couple of off-seasons, there’s no way he’s 200 lbs, and in fact, I didn’t even believe he played baseball until I met his giant friend, Eric Gagne. Nevertheless, given his opponent’s background and the fact that I’ve designated him a tag-team partner I would expect the full amount of hair-pulling, biting, and crotch grabbing to make this match very competitive. In the end, I’ll give the BoSox this one, but only because I can’t imagine Derek Jeter doing anything wrong. Then again, if I could get any and all the pussy in New York City, I wouldn’t want to screw up my immaculate good looks either.

Winner by strangulation: 2X ALEX (their street name)

3B: Alex Rodriguez (6’3”, 225 lbs) V. Mike Lowell (6’3”, 210 lbs)

On paper, this doesn’t look good for Lowell: Outweighed by fifteen pounds, and about $15 million a year. But Lowell has too many intangibles working for him to lose this one. For starters, he overcame testicular cancer (I know I’ve used overcoming cancer twice as a reason for someone winning a fight, but hey, they must be tough), and has most fans, and player’s backing him. This may be the one time that even Yankees fans would accept losing to a Red Sock. Assuming, of course, that the Yankees won the overall fight. Plus, you can’t lose a battle to a guy who has the word “Rod” as any part of his nickname.

Winner by face stomp: Mike Lowell

LF: Hideki Matsui (6’2”, 230 lbs) V. Manny Ramirez (6’0”, 200 lbs)

This is the face off you couldn’t afford to miss. Though I was searching online to see if Hideki had any background in martial arts, I couldn’t find any concrete evidence. However, I did find this unbelievably strange Japanese webpage about the “Legend” of Hideki Matsui. My browser did a poor job of translating and, consequently, I have no idea what’s really going on here, but a headline reads “The Ceiling Bullet of Tokyo dome,” as well as a quote from someone presumably speaking to Matsui, saying: “I wanted you to fight.” So what does it all mean? Don’t fuck with someone often referred to as Godzilla, and comes from the land that brought you Pride fighting and Mortal Combat.

Winner by total domination: The Legend that is Hideki Matsui

CF: Coco Crisp (6’0”, 180 lbs) V. Johnny Damon (6’2”, 205 lbs)

OM….

Winner by bitch slap: Johnny Damon

RF: Gary Sheffield (6’0”, 215 lbs) V. Wily Mo Pena (6’3”, 245 lbs)

I omitted Trot Nixon from this exercise because this isn’t really fair from the start. Not only could Wily Mo take Sheffield or any other Yankee for that matter, but I think this guy could legitimately challenge anyone in the game--any game, any sport.

Winner by whatever method he chooses: Wily Mo

DH: Miguel Cairo (6’1”, 210 lbs) and Andy Phillips (6’0”, 205 lbs) and Terrence Long (6’1”, 205 lbs) and Bernie Williams (6’2”, 205 lbs) and Bernie’s classical guitar (estimated at 31 lbs) V. David Ortiz (6’4”, 230 lbs)

For this one match, something very special will take place. Big Pappi will be locked in a room with no food and only the Shrek DVD collection to watch for two weeks. He will then be released directly into the octagon to fetch his prey. Is it really possible? Could David Ortiz really eat the entire Yankee DH battalion? It’s not a question of if, but more a question of how fast. They should really trade for a real baseball player (the Yankees that is).

Winner by devouration: David Ortiz

C: Jorge Posado (6’2”, 205 lbs) V. Jason Varitek (6’2”, 230 lbs)

I guess I’ll give it to the man with the goatee.

Winner by mustache ride: Jason Varitek

King of the Ring

Pitchers will fight in a different format from the hitters. Pitchers will all get in a ring at the same time and try to throw each other out. The last man standing will win the points for his team. Note: Only the top five pitchers for each club will be used and five points awarded to the pitching winner.

Curt Schilling and Josh Beckett and Matt Clement and Mike Timlin and Jonathon Papelbon (1105 lbs) V. Randy Johnson and Mike Mussina and Chien-Ming Wang and Kyle Farnsworth and Mariano Rivera (1075 lbs)

Wow. Well, let’s just throw Mussina out of there to begin with. Beckett would probably go next after succumbing to a blister. I see Rivera being scrappy, but not making it past this point. Wang would throw a punch at Clement’s head (sorry) and not only would he be forced to leave the ring, but would be unable to pitch for the next two months to recover from the ‘trauma’. Timlin is old and tough. I see him taking care of Wang, but not before Wang takes out Papelbon as well. Finally, Timlin and Farnsworth get a hold of each other and both fall out of the ring simultaneously, leaving only two men.

Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling stare into each other’s eyes—once teammates, now enemies. Schilling throws a punch at the lanky son of a bitch, but it’s magically dodged by Johnson. Johnson comes in with a flying kick to seal the victory for the Yankees. Although it may be hard for you to believe that Johnson could beat Schilling in a fight, he has the one thing going for him that no one wants to see in an opponent—nothing to lose. Who knows how medieval crazy Johnson could get, you can’t make this man any uglier.

Winner by chicanery: Randy Johnson

Final tally: Yankees 8-Red Sox 6

On the DL

2006-05-15T11:57:00.000-04:00

Sandro (The Author) has sustained broken bones in his wrist, hand, arm and labia. He is having trouble typing. Check back in a week for new articles from NaughtyBaseball.

We Want BEER!!

2006-05-11T14:29:00.000-04:00

If you’re from the Metropolitan New York area you know about the catastraphies that have hit the Yankee faithful a few years ago: Beer is no longer sold in the bleacher section. At first this would appear to be a good PR move. The bleacher creatures have been a thorn in the side of the Yankee front office for years. I remember back in 1995 when I was the tender age of eleven and the Yankees were playing the Orioles. It was my first time in the bleachers, and as I walked through the tunnel I could hear the cheers coming a mile away: “Brady (referring to then Orioles outfielder Brady Anderson) takes it up the ass-DOO-DAA! DOO-DAA! Brady takes it up the ass, O-the-DOO-DA day!!” The occasional, “shave your sideburns you ferry bitch!” would also be thrown in intermittently. The rest of the game was a blast: My friend’s mom left the stadium after the 2nd inning in fear and waited in the car, and I was left with my other eleven-year-old buddy alone. While we sipped beer, which was given to us by one of the two thousand drunks in the stands, I got to witness some “crazy ghetto fools slangin’ drugs” for the first time. Yes, my friends, the occasional crack smoking was permitted with a blind eye. The one time I saw security do anything was when a fight broke out in the first row—the two hooligans were apparently blocking the view of some of the spectators. Had the fight broken out a few rows back, security would have surely let it slide, which I know for a fact because two-innings later, a fight broke out two rows behind me and no one seemed to care. These were the good ol’ days in the lawless bleachers…

Ten years later…

I entered the bleachers last year to see the Yankees play the Royals. I heard of the no beer rule, and so, did what every other bleacher bum is now forced to do—walk across the street to one of the local bars and take shots of Jack Daniels so I can “keep a buzz on” for the next three hours. I, along with a couple buddies, however, immediately felt out of place when we entered the stadium. My friend stood up rudely and called Aaron Guile (the Royals right fielder) a fallacious piece of shit! He looked around the section for some laughs, but was, instead, greeted with parental, disapproving glances. The section was flooded with families who certainly didn’t want to hear some drunk yelling profanities at the ballplayers. There were some “bleacher creatures” still looming, but there was no unity. We sat there feeling drunk and awkward for the rest of the game.

I went to my first Yankee game of the year against the Tampa Bay Devil Rays a couple of weeks ago. It was a fine game, and I wasn’t sitting in the bleachers. Sipping beer, I had to go to the bathroom in the sixth inning. As I unzipped, a guy came in the bathroom and said, “Securities after me! This is bullshit! Some kid was wearing a Red Sox hat and I ripped it off his head and threw it on the ground!” The crowded bathroom stood staring at this guy, who, even in New York, was impossible to ignore. Someone bravely yelled “Relax! Calm down buddy!” The man rebuttaled, “RELAX! HOW can I RELAX?! This is bullshit! Thirty years ago if a fan wore a Red Sox hat at a Yankees-Devil Rays game they would be shot! Shot in the fucking head!” It was at the end of this ridiculous statement, where everyone in the bathroom looked at each other and slowly left the bathroom.

The number of falsities in this man’s statement are endless. For one thing, the Devil Rays were created in 1998, and I don’t think shooting anybody thirty years ago was allowed. But the point of the story is this: Despite Yankee personnel’s best efforts to improve the “environment” of the stadium, they have only made it worse. Bleacher bums, instead of sticking to the crowded section in right field are now filtering throughout the stadium, even to the box seats, which they continuously cheer against. Not to mention that bleacher bum chants are funny, cheerful, and though not in great taste, are usually passable. I have never once heard someone say they want to kill anybody, or knock hats off an opposing team’s fans. While I cannot excuse the crazed bathroom fans reaction, I will say that without a home the bleacher creatures have started to lose their minds. Hatred has built up inside of them as a result of having to buy expensive seats, just to be able to buy expensive beer. And now they take their vengeance out on the wealthier sections.

So please Yankee stadium, give the bleacher bums back their home. Cut your losses, keep the rest of the stadium “orderly,” and let the bums be bums in the bleachers. Open up beer sales in the bleachers again, and then everyone will be happy. (Except Aaron Guile)

The Mysterious Wade Boggs

2006-05-08T12:45:00.000-04:00

Wade Boggs had his number retired over the weekend—no, not in Boston or New York, but in Tampa Bay. Boggs had some illustrious years with the D-Rays. In 1998, he batted .280. In 1999, he played in 90 games and retired. Thus, Boggs had left a legacy on a franchise that no one would ever forget. Believe it or not, however, Boggs did play for two other organizations over the course of his career, establishing himself the alpha male in every single clubhouse.

Boggs had 2098 hits with the Boston Red Sox, never dropping his on-base-percentage below .386, except for his “troubled” last year in Beantown, where it dropped to .353 in 1992. He also managed to squeeze in five batting titles during this time. Yet, throughout it all, Boggs always had something going on the side, besides baseball. It’s rumored that he once told a flight attendant that he would “kick her fat lips in,” if she didn’t serve him a final beer before the plane landed. In another incident in 1988, not of rumor, a woman named Margo Adams said she had been Boggs’ mistress for the past couple years, and tried to file a suit of $6/million dollars against the star slugger. Boggs settled out of court. What makes Boggs’ situation even more unsettling is that he admitted to being a “sex addict,” somehow believing this would excuse his adulterous crime in the eyes of the public. While I praise his audacity in speech, any terms learned from the Geraldo Rivera show should never be mistaken for fact or used in real life.

Besides sex, Boggs also loved chicken. As many people know, Boggs ate chicken before every game. What people may not know is that he woke up at the same time every day, took exactly 150 ground balls, took batting practice at 5:17 PM, ran sprints at 7:17 PM, and, most puzzlingly, wrote the Hebrew word “Chai,” meaning life, in the batter’s box before every at-bat. Boggs isn’t Jewish.

After establishing himself officially insane in 1992, Boggs decided that it was time to move on from Boston. But where to go? Naturally, Boggs chose to go to the Red Sox arch nemesis—the New York Yankees. This move proved wise after the Yanks won the 1996 World Series, finally giving Boggs a championship. We can all remember Boggs circling the stadium on a central park horse.

And then Boggs signed a contract with the Devil Rays in 1998 where he agreed to enter Cooperstown as a Devil Ray. This odd stipulation in his contract was eventually made illegal by the Hall of Fame committee, and Boggs was forced to enter as a Red Sock. Recently, in an interview with PTI, Boggs was asked if it was true: Did he really drink 64 beers on a cross-country plane ride? Boggs admitted it was a lot, but probably no where near 64. The answer was ambiguous enough for me to believe that Boggs did in fact complete the feat.

Boggs’ number 12 will now hang in the rafters of Tropicana Field—to some a Devil Ray, to others a Red Sock or Yankee, and to others, like myself, a psychopathic sex crazed drinking legend who was really fucking good at baseball.

The Marlins in Vegas? Like it. Don’t Like It.

2006-05-03T14:44:00.000-04:00

If the Florida Marlins were smart they would be packing their bags for Vegas next year, if Major League Baseball would let them. Sure, there are plenty of risks involving moving a franchise to Vegas: Gambling, prostitution, excessive drinking and drug use, but common, I couldn’t imagine anything better for this franchise. Who doesn’t want a fan base filled with coked-up and drunk tourists who don’t really give a shit about the team? Wait a minute…that’s right, they want to go to Vegas to change the way things are.

Why Vegas?

For one thing, a move would look good for such a young and talented franchise. The Marlins have rid themselves of old, excess baggage such as Paul Lo Duca, Carlos Delgado, and Mike Lowell, and can now start fresh—marketing a young franchise in a “juvenile” city. I know people of all ages go to Vegas, including kids, which still baffles me, but it is called the “adult playground” for a reason. Miguel Cabrera, Dontrelle Willis, Dan Uggla, Hanley Ramirez and Jason Vargas are young, talented players people enjoy watching, even tourists. This year the New York Mets have chosen an awful 1980's theme rap song,"our year, our time," as part of their 2006 marketing campaign. I could see it now: The Marlins entering the field to Madonna's "Like a Virgin." A match made in heaven.

Secondly, the team’s mascot could be any number of animate and inanimate objects ranging from a grimy 67-year-old hooker with no teeth, to a friendly Cowboy, or even a playing card, such as an Ace. Currently, the Dodgers have a farm team in Vegas called the 51's (after Area 51, apparently), which has your stereotypical pasty-white-giant-headed-black-eyed alien as their mascot. This is pretty lame, especially since this alien has baseball seams on its giant dome. My personal preference would be for The Jokers—comical, yet still intimidating.

Las Vegas also has an estimated 569,838 locals, and if you include the entire Las Vegas Metropolitan area, 1.6 million people. Las Vegas’ rapidly growing population has surpassed cities who already have ball clubs such as Washington D.C., Denver, and Boston. It also has over 30 million tourists visiting Sin City each year. That’s a lot of fucking people to support a ball club.

Right now, the Marlins/Jokers have a terrible lease with Wayne “I’d do anything I can to fuck you over” Huizenga. Huizenga owns the stadium, and television rights to the Marlins/Jokers, essentially, stripping Marlins/Jokers current owner, Jeffrey Loria of any, and all profit. Huizenga’s stadium lease ends in 2010, but even if the Marlins/Jokers move to Vegas, or anywhere else for that matter, have to pay Huizenga anyway. Basically, the Jokers would have to produce a shit load of revenue to turn any sort of profit. And there’s really only one city in the world capable of turning nothing into something. After all, that’s what this city was founded on, a plot of desolate, isolated sand where people could do whatever they want. I.E., drink their faces off and bang loose women all for a friendly day’s wage.

So here’s the plan. Loria would need to sell half his club to one of the Major Vegas players: the MGM group, Wynn, Sands Entertainment who can afford to build a stadium, but not just any stadium, a monstrosity of unholy debauchery. The capacity of the stadium is unimportant, so I’d keep it low, somewhere around 30,000 people. Not only will this make the stadium appear hip, but won’t get in the way of the stadium’s real revenue making source, the giant baseball themed gambling hall and hotel. That’s right—blow this thing up, turn it into a spectacle. There’s an Italian, Middle Eastern, French, and even treasure themed casinos, but there’s no baseball one. I realize that a lot of the focus would be taken away from the team, yet, I don’t doubt that people will still watch the games and love their franchise. In fact, it would probably increase the team’s popularity. Maybe only 30,000 pay for a ticket to watch the game, but there’s still another 30,000 inside the “stadium” to soak in advertising. Stadium club seats could surround the outfield ala the Chicago Cubs fans who pay the Tribune company for their outfield apartment seats. Put the stadium just off the strip with free, and frequent, bus rides. It would be perfect.

Except for…

Among other things, this would cause turmoil between other baseball franchises that aren’t seeing any of the revenue generated from the casino and hotel. That’s why none of the profit from gambling could be used towards building the team in any way—players, advertising, etc. Instead, the team would have to build their club around the revenue generated from ticket, merchandize, and beverage and food sales, just like every team. Where I see this plan working is that the Casino/Hotel could attract people who may eventually become fans. It sticks with Vegas’ main themes. For instance, when the MGM grand hosts a Heavyweight Title Fight, not only is the grand arena bumping, but MGM as a whole. The event helps advertise the casino, and the casino helps advertise the event. The two feed off each other.

Why not?

Christ, it’s not like the above plan would ever actually fly. As much as it is among one of my dirtiest fantasies to think about shooting craps and drinking martinis between innings, and then screwing a prostitute during the seventh inning stretch legally (just kidding mom), I’m a realist, and this plan ain’t real.

Could you imagine the chaos that would ensue when the Royals come to town? Mike Sweeney leaving the Church of Latter Day Saints for a Thaiwanese hooker with a fat ass; Zach Greinke scavenging the city for a Brad Pitt look alike, and the rest of the team getting as drunk as humanly possible to forget that they play for the Royals.

I don’t think a move to Vegas would be a good idea because the only way I see it working is with the scenario I explained above (way above, section 1). Las Vegas is a city based on tourism. While it certainly has enough local fans to support a home team, a majority of that population is working strange and long hours for the city itself, and aren’t the ones the economy relies upon. Tourists would be the ones going to most of the games, and I don’t see many people skipping on Rain (below) to go see the Jokers play the Indians under normal circumstances in a normal stadium.

This is ultimately why it will never work in this city, and should stop being considered as a destination for the Marlins. Baseball is known as a game filled with integrity and pride. It is America’s national pastime and therefore, the league is frightened, for better or worse, to make a move like this to a city known for…well, what it’s known for. Look at how steroids have scared the league all ready. There’s only one way to go Vegas—and that’s hard. If you don’t go hard, you might as well not go at all.

A Month of Baseball and The Future

2006-05-01T15:05:00.000-04:00

What trends can be taken seriously after a month of baseball? Not many. Given the small sample size, it’s tough to see which ballplayers have officially “broken out;” if the ones who are slumping will continue to slump, or, better yet, whose suspensions are a sign of things to come. But this is half the reason I started a blog—to predict the future of ballplayer's throughout the mighty game of baseball. So here it goes...

Chris Shelton is not a superstar. He doesn’t look like a superstar, act like a superstar, and although he hit like one in April, is nothing more than “solid.” His OPS currently sits at 1.187 with 10 home runs. Shelton will not make it to 30 home runs. He will end the year with roughly a .280/.360/.480 line, while being an atrocious defender at first base. Enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame Sloth.

Albert Pujols isn’t Barry Bonds circa 2000-2004. Despite all the talk about walking Pujols every time he comes to the plate, I agree with most managers who choose to pitch to him. Don’t get me wrong, Pujols is really fucking good, and had a monstrous April. He has even established himself as the best hitter in baseball. I’m just saying he’s not Barry Bonds. From 2000-2004, Bonds’ lowest on base percentage was .440 and highest was .609. His slugging percentage sat between .749 and .863. Currently, Pujols’ numbers are Bonds-esque. His April line is: .346/.509/.914, but remember, this is only one month. Pujols will probably repeat as MVP and end the year with a line similar to last years, something around .340/.440/.650. Pujols is also in a much deeper lineup including Scott Rolen and Jim Edmonds. Who was Bonds’ right hand man? Sure, Jeff Kent for a couple years, but after that—Pedro Feliz and Lance Niekro. It might be a blessing in disguise if Pujols’ numbers quiet down a bit, if he does too well, I’m sure there’d be steroid rumors circulating.

Make no mistake about it: Delmon Young is the next Albert Belle with speed. Kevin Goldstein of Baseball Prospectus made this comparison in an article a week ago, and I immediately wrote him an e-mail praising him. In case you didn’t know, Delmon Young “flipped”/threw a bat at an umpire in a minor league game last week. Delmon is the consensus number one prospect in the game. He’s an outfielder with a plus bat, plus arm, plus speed, basically, he’s good at everything, except PR. Albert Belle, a stud outfielder in the 1990’s with a short temper himself, had similar “anger” problems. Though Belle’s minor league antics aren’t really comparable to Young’s, he’s got some good major league ones. In 1991, Belle threw a ball at a fan from fifteen feet away, bruising the fan’s chest. And now I’m just going to list the other incidents: In the 1995 World Series Belle swears/threatens at commentator Hannah Storm; Chased five teenagers in a car for egging his house; Blew off an event with hitting legend Ted Williams, and delivered a forearm shiver to then Milwaukee second baseman Fernando Vina in 1996. Besides all this, Belle was a really good baseball player, and anyone would be a fool, despite all the off the field issues, not to want him on their team. Delmon’s got a lot to live up to, but it’s looking promising. I can only hope Delmon Young reaches the Majors along side Elijah Dukes and a fleet of penitentiary guards to protect the fans, managers, other players, player wives, and batboys.

Omar Vizquel is batting .375. Maybe he took my advice and started juicing…hmm, only in my most wildest of dreams. “Slick” fielding Vizquel is garbo, and will start to play like garbo (see picture below) in the near future.

The Cincinatti Reds are 17-8, the Colorado Rockies are 15-10, and the Yankees and Red Sox are only three games over .500. The Reds had similar success in 2004. Through May of that year, they compiled a record of 30-21. They ended the year with 76 wins. The magic of Aaron Harang, Brandon Claussen, Eric Milton, and Bronson Arroyo can only take you so far. Not to mention—David Weathers is their closer, and already has 8 saves. If Weathers leads the NL in saves by the end of the year, I will be along side Darren Daulton officially claiming the world is coming to an end. As for the Rockies, they are playing out of their shoes and above their heads. Beating up on the likes of the Diamondbacks, Padres, Phillies and Marlins in April, they’ll come back to earth in May. Their schedule includes Atlanta, Houston for six, the Dodgers for six, St. Louis and Toronto. There is no need to get into details with the Yankees and Red Sox. The Yankees will trade for a DH (Craig Wilson courtesy Jason Phillips), and a mediocre starter (Jamie Moyer) who will play better than they have in their entire careers and propel the Yanks into first place ala Shawn Chacon and Aaron Small in 2005. The Red Sox are still good, not Papelbon dominating April good, but for every Papelbon there is a Manny Ramirez slugging .448. Manny will pick it up enough for the Sox to take the AL wild card lead.

By the way, incase you were lucky enough to get off work today because of the immigrant strike, like myself, you can start the party early—Yanks @ Sox 7:05 PM EST.

Power Rankings

2006-04-26T16:35:00.000-04:00

Many sites have power rankings, but Naughty Baseball’s are a little different. Here, players aren’t ranked on ability, maturity, or clutch hitting. Instead, these rankings are completely subjective, based on how “cool” I think a player is. What does “cool” mean? It certainly isn’t part of the proper journalistic creed. For our purposes, players both past and present can make the rankings as well. All that matters is if you're making headlines for one reason or another. Basically, if a player's antics make me chuckle, they make the Naughty Rankings.

Top 8

8. Adam Dunn

On opening day Adam Dunn was found making outfield blunders at 2:21 PM, 4:04 PM, and again, at 4:16 PM. It seems that even this diehard Dunn fan blogging on redlegnation was running out of excuses for him. But what did Dunn say after the game,

“It's one game…Just because it's Opening Day doesn't mean it's the seventh game of the World Series. It's one game. If you want to say we'll stink it up because we lost one game, go ahead. This isn't ruining my season. I promise you."

Dunn is honest, and honesty is a virtue. He didn’t blame the winds for the foul balls he missed and loves thin mints: “These are thin mints. I put them in the freezer. My favorites. So good.” Dunn on the Reds new cheerleaders: “It gets the fans into (the game) and gives us something to look at.” Like I said, honest, a man of integrity.

7. Jason Giambi

On Dec. 11th of 2003 Giambi admitted to using steroids in front of a federal grand jury. His 2003 line: .250/.412/.527, including 41 jacks. After admitting to steroid use an injury plagued 2004, led to a .208/.342/.379 line, with 12 measly homers. It seems Giambi cleaned out his system, and all his muscle. If you saw Giambi in 2004, you could see his new slimmer look. Yet, he had a power resurgence in 2005 with 32 home runs in 139 games—back to his old self, including the weight. (**wink wink**) Now, I’m not going to sit here and say Giambi is back on the juice, but if anyone has the balls to admit to doing a plethora of steroids, and then do them again, they’re worthy of these here Naughty Rankings.

6. Eric Byrnes

For one thing, anybody who has a website made for them, by someone else they don’t know, must be pretty cool, right? Hmm…this is questionable logic--it sounds like the chick who made this site is just plain crazy. She has this to say about Burns, “I made an Eric Byrnes web site because he's a great ballplayer, exciting to watch, hard-working, has a positive attitude about pretty much everything, and is a great all-around guy. You've just got to respect a guy who plays all out, all the time and looks like he's having a great time doing it. I also love the high socks.” She also says she is confident that Burns will never be caught doing anything like drugs or alcohol, much to my chagrin. Well, Eric certainly didn’t make my power rankings because he wears high socks. He’s made it for one reason and one reason only—he hired one of his best friends from college (UCLA) to be his agent. Enjoy your days on this list Eric, cause they’re numbered.

PS: Burns also has an official website for you diehard fans: http://www.byrnesie.com.

5. Pedro Martinez

On April 7th Pedro hit Jose Guillen not once, but twice. Pedro never admitted he did it intentionally, but Guillen’s .419 career batting average against Pedro makes me (and the rest of the known world) beg to differ. Pedro-1, Guillen-0. A week later, on April 12th, Guillen grounded into a double play with the bases loaded and two out against Martinez. The Mets went on to win that one as well. After the game Pedro had this to say about Guillen: “It could happen in any game, but you know what? I don't hold any grudges…He's probably bitter still, but I'm just going to continue to pray for him, and hopefully it will get better, his temper will change. I still have respect for his bat, he's a good hitter and I'm just going to continue to do what I have to do. And I was glad that, when I'm OK, I don't need to hit anybody." Martinez-2, Guillen-0. I can’t imagine anything more annoying than hearing from the guy who hit you twice in one game that he’s praying your temper will change. HA. You go Pedro.

4. Mark Grace

Myth or fabrication: It’s been said that Mark Grace had a secret for breaking a hitting slump. His “slump buster” was to walk into a bar and pick the fattest, ugliest animal of a woman he could find, and make sweet love to her. Grace’s recent quotes on steroids also included, “I was body by booze.” Sure, he was a slap-hitting 1980’ style first baseman, but you got to love it. Cheers Gracie, I wish you were still playing.

3. Elijah Dukes

Elijah’s antics have already been well documented on this site. But another interesting fact: Elijah attended the same juvenile detention, I mean, high school as Dwight Gooden (currently serving time for cocaine possession), and Carl Everett (doesn’t believe Dinosaurs existed.) Must have been one hell of an education.

2. Jonny Gomes

Jonny Gomes is tough: looks tough, is tough. When Gomes was 22 he had a heart attack. That’s right, a fucking heart attack. I didn’t even know that was possible before thirty. "My body was able to fight off a heart attack for 24 hours," Gomes said. "I was walking around my house in a full-blown heart attack. I have strong organs, but the bad thing is, it bruised my heart a little more than the average because most people would have gone to the hospital right away." Now in 2006 he’s slugging an astounding .746, after an impressive 2005 where he hit 21 home runs in just 100 games. One more friendly fact—Jonny’s middle name is Johnson making his full name Jonny Johnson Gomes. Not that I would say anything to him about it.

1. Darren Daulton

How could the top slot go to anyone else? I don’t really know where to start. Darren Daulton (Dutch) was a Philly for fourteen glorious years. Despite being plagued by knee problems throughout his career, he became a perennial “star,” helping lead the Phillies to the 1993 World Series and making two All-Star teams himself. And then like my friend Darren says during karaoke, things got weird. Daulton has a belief system based on conspiracies and metaphysics. In short, he thinks the world’s ending at the conclusion of the Mayan calendar on December 21st of 2006. For more information, consult this SI article by Franz Lidz.

Look Alike

2006-04-20T13:19:00.000-04:00

Everyone on the web has been looking for a nickname for Tigers “slugger” Chris Shelton, that is, until Gheorghe the blogger came up with Sloth from the Steven Spielberg classic Goonies—a near perfect (possibly even DNA) match. But for me, it doesn’t stop with Shelton. Many formidable ballplayers lack quality nicknames, or, better still, have not been compared to celebrities (of sorts) who look just like them.

Take Nick Johnson who, I hate to say this, resembles Private Pyle from Kubrick's 1987 classic war film Full Metal Jacket. Though some claim that Nick Johnson looks like the adult version of the kid from the movie, The Babe, I have to disagree. When I look into Johnson’s eyes the fear of everything that is holy strikes through my soul when I get a flashback of that bathroom scene in the barracks.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman (Frank Robinson), addressing Private Pyle (Nick Johnson): “Are you quitting on me? Well, are you? Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit. Get the fuck off of my obstacle. Get the fuck down off of my obstacle. Now. Move it. I'm going to rip your balls off, so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world. I will motivate you, Private Pyle (Johnson), if it short-dicks every cannibal on the Congo.”

My next look alike it none other than the inflamed Oakland Athletic Milton Bradley. Everyone wonders why Milton Bradley is angry all the time, but the answer is right in front of our faces.

Note to parents: If you’re last name is Bradley, you might not want to name your son Milton, for he may be mistaken for the creator of beloved board games such as Monopoly. This is aside from the fact, that Milton Bradley is a big, black athlete, which seems to only add to the comedy of the whole situation.

Go directly to the jail Milton! Do not pass go! Do not collect $100!

While I’d be surprised if I were the first one to notice this, something has to be put on paper. Randy Johnson’s looks have been ridiculed for years—this is nothing new. What is strange, is Johnson’s inheritance, which may or may not have included Sid, the sloth from Ice Age
somewhere in his lineage.

I’m sorry Randy. If only you didn’t give up seven runs on nine hits through three and 1/3 innings on Tuesday to the Blue Jays, this resemblance would have been forgotten.

O…Gustavo Chacin, how I hate you. Incase you don’t know Gustavo Chacin, he is a starting pitcher for the Toronto Blue Jays who made his debut in 2005. He had a solid 2005, albeit extremely lucky (if you don’t believe me, hit the Baseball Prospectus link and look him up), and actually produced his own cologne earlier this year for a promotional day in Toronto. On the cologne, he says, “I really like not strong…It's good for both (men and women). It smells really good." One look at this guy, and you can see why he bugs me. As for the nickname, I have been debating over a couple because depending on what angle you get Chacin, he looks like a completely different person.

At first, Chacin appeared to me as a shoe-in for Buddy Pine, the villain from the pixar hit The
Incredibles.

But after seeing the 2006 zombie-alien thriller Slither in recent weeks, it occurred to me that Chacin is more a Michael Rooker than a Buddy Pine. (Michael Rooker is also Svenning’s Dad in the 1995 movie Mallrats.)

Joe/Morgan Love/Hate

2006-04-18T17:30:00.000-04:00

We all know Joe Morgan: Everyone’s favorite ESPN baseball analyst. He loves gritty play, a tough work ethic, free swingers and loose women. I.E., if you resemble a ballplayer from the 1920’s, Joe Morgan loves you. But as the Chinese believe, for every ying, there is a yang. And so I present to you a list of players Joe Morgan surely loves, and, surely hates.

Joe Morgan probably likes…Omar Vizquel

Joe definitely loves Omar’s ability to field with his bare hand—for that’s all he ever fucking does. Maybe Omar forgot that the thing on his left hand is a glove, and with it, you are supposed to field. But then again, for every time he doesn’t use this “glove” he seems to make it onto Sportscenter, and consequently, get laid much more than he probably should.

Joe Morgan probably dislikes…Miguel Cabrera

Cabrera turns twenty-three today and has compiled a career line of .300/.366/.524, while playing “stellar” defense at 3B, when he chooses to. This is congruent with another pretty good baseball player who started at 3B named Albert Pujols. But unlike Albert, Joe can’t bring himself to like Cabrera. Miguel has a problem with something called, “hustle.” For instance, last year that pain-in-the-neck manager Jack Mckeon tried to convince Cabrera to stop talking to his friends in the crowd, while waiting in the on deck circle. And just last week, Cabrera was spotted lightly jogging to a ball off the third base bag in foul territory, which he belatedly didn’t reach. Though Girardi didn’t have the balls to say anything to his only Major League baseball player, he probably wanted to.

Joe Morgan definitely sees himself in heaven as…Scott Podsednik

What’s there not to like? He’s fast, hustles, crashes into walls with no abandon, hit a game winning home run in the world series, and makes easy plays look hard. He can also lay down a bunt, does W.I.T. (Whatever It Takes) to move the runners over, and wears his socks high. Well let me tell you what there’s not to like—everything I just mentioned. A Morgan idol to some, and a demon to others. Podsednik is single handedly ruining the game of baseball. He can’t hit, field, throw, or even give good quotes to the media. He’s like a parasite, living off comments from people like Joe Morgan. Damn you and your small ball Podsednik!!!

Joe Morgan hates calling Red Sox games because of…Manny Ramirez

I wouldn’t be surprised if Morgan has a bottle of 1996 Cristal champagne waiting in his fridge for the day Manny retires. The reasoning is simple: Anybody who can play the game of baseball better on drugs, than he can stone sober, must be evil. For the record, I don’t have any evidence that Manny does drugs, but this picture has led me to believe that something is up.

Ramirez has many symptoms similar to Cabrera—he seems to despise moving anything except a bat. Floundering in the outfield, he often appears annoyed by any “fly balls,” that come his way. He also has what I think are dread locks, and worst of all, wears the equivalent of Phat Farm sweatpants out on the baseball field. Needless to say, Joe doesn’t like this, nor Manny’s lifetime .904 OPS. I can hear it now, “he just doesn’t steal bases, or do the little things…”

Joe Morgan will hate…Elijah Dukes in the near future

Among many things Joe’s probably not a fan of are criminal records. Arrested for battery at age 13, and then again, at age 14 and since joining the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, arrested five more times for various charges, Dukes has, what some call, “off the field issues.” Asides from his arrests, Dukes also skipped the Southern League All-Star game because he wasn’t a starter. But Dukes, like Wild Thing Vaughn before him, has outstanding tools. His upside has been well documented by scouts and statisticians, alike, and it’s only a matter of time before the fiery ball player graduates to the Major Leagues. I can only pray that Joe Morgan is there live with all the action for that day’s great event.

What the Hell Were You Thinking ?

2006-04-14T12:51:00.000-04:00

Steroids are the talk of the town this year. You can’t turn on the television, or search the web without seeing something about them. Which made me wonder, if most of America knows that baseball players use/used steroids—what the hell were some of these guys thinking when they turned them down.

It is with this logic that I present to you the All-Guys-Who-Should-Have-Used-Steroids-Team. While many people criticize steroids for shrinking testicles, causing sexual malfunction, for any malfunction to take place you need a partner. And as we all know, chicks dig one thing, the long ball. So here’s a list of guys, who definitely needed a good friend like Barry, Gary, Jason, or even Sammy Sosa to show them the way to the promised land: A place where you can rub “magical” oil on your biceps and take “special” drops under your tongue, and your puny muscles turn into mountainous edifices, capable of spraying cum shots called baseballs all over your opponents.

1B: JT Snow

Where were you Barry???? This goes to show just how selfish Barry Bonds really is. The man has the entire balco lab working for him and he can’t even offer a nice kid like Snow some hitting advice. Any first basemen known for his defensive prowess and a career slugging percentage of .428 needs help. If Snow had roided during his age 28 season, who knows where he’d be right now—certainly not backing up Kevin Youkilis.

2B: Kazuo Matsui

When asked to describe Kaz Matsui, an anonymous baseball analyst, who also happens to be a Mets fan, had this to say: “Kaz is bad, so bad, that I don’t even know if any amount of steroids, or HGH (human growth hormone) could help him.” But nevertheless, he should try something. In 727 career at-bats he has ten home runs. He also looks like a fourteen-year-old girl out there, unable to make the “long” throw from the second base bag. “Kazuo, welcome to America….here, we cheat to win….and if you don’t want to cheat….just close your eyes and I’ll inject you with a delicious cotton candy shot…”

3B: Sean Burroughs

Burroughs had a start to a powerful career, winning a Little League World Series in back to back years. Aside from being an excellent hitter, Burroughs also pitched two no hitters in the LLWS. Was this a sign of things to come? Apparently not. Upon being drafted ninth overall, his power vanished. In four minor league seasons Burroughs hit a total of fourteen home runs. In the subsequent four major league seasons he hit eleven home runs as a regular third basemen. Not only are these power numbers much worse than Kaz Matsui, but Burroughs can’t blame foreign customs for not jumping on the roid-wagon. Drafted in 1998, he saw what was going on around baseball: Sosa, McGuire, the rest of the league. For Christ sakes, did Burroughs really think his natural little league abilities would get the job done at the major league level? The icing on the cake was when he was sent to purgatory, Tampa Bay, after 2005. There, hopefully he can make the proper “adjustments” and acquaintances (Jonny Gomes) to stick at the big league level.

SS: David Eckstein

Not only has Eckstein failed to do steroids—he probably could have done them legally. For years, Eckstein has scoured through his teammates lockers and the rest of Middle-Earth to find his “precious” ring, but has come up short. It is obvious that it would be in any doctor’s best interests to offer some sort of growth stimulant to the frail, malnourished boy. Instead, Eckstein is doing it with what “God” has given him: slippery feet, insidious hands and a burning desire to be more than Albert Pujol’s bitch in the shower. Nevertheless, Eckstein has landed himself in pretty good circumstances on a winning team. Getting him one step closer to his precious.

C: Mike Matheny

Leave it to the Giants to pick up a player at the tail end of their career who nobody else wants. Forget about his 6’3”, 220 lb frame, that’s all buffalo wings and potato skins. In 1268 career games, Matheny has 64 home runs. That’s an average of about five jobbers a year. Though Matheny may be picking up on the whole steroid thing—he hit thirteen home runs a year ago—I expect Pac-Bell to catch up with him. He’ll be lucky to get four bombs in 2006. I know he “calls” a good game, has intangibles that don’t go in the box score, and gets along with the rest of the old-age-home Giant clubhouse. But common Matheny, after twelve years in this game you don’t know about a little thing called “The Clear”? What kind of leader are you?

OF: Darin Erstad

The first pick in the 1995 draft has definitely done more for his community than he has for his baseball team. Reading his bio on angels.com made me for horrible about myself for not doing more for my community, but then again, with people like Darin Erstad around, what is there left do? The guy has done everything from donate money to refurbish baseball fields to participating in events called, “Chefsgiving.” He also was North Dakota high school player of the year in 1992, and was a punter and kicker for the University of Nebraska Cornhuskers football team. But through all these accomplishments there’s one thing Darin won’t be able to do—and that’s bench pressing more than Orlando Cabrera. Bronson Arroyo will hit more home runs this year (he has two already) than Erstad. Erstad also plays a poor center field, making up ground by trying to crash into walls and hurting himself, rather than taking the easy way out by injecting himself in the buttocks. When will they learn?

OF: Scott Podsednik

Sure, Podsednik won a World Serieis, but let’s be honest, at 6’1” and an exaggerated 190 lbs, he is one of the worst left fielders in all of baseball. Look at his 2006 numbers—through eight games he’s batting .067. Alright, I don’t know if you guessed it or not, but I hate Podsednik. He’s on this list if for anything else, for being a weak, overrated little bitch. Damn you and your little legs Podsednik.

OF: Steve Finley

It was tough to put Finley on this list because I do believe, that at some point, Finley used his head and juiced. He shows all the major signs: often injured, incongruous numbers, an insane work ethic, and rippling abs. Which brings me to the question of—why’d he stop? In 2004, Finley hit thirty-six home runs for the Diamondbacks and Dodgers going into his walk year. In 2005, he responded to his new contract with the “punchless” Angels by hitting twelve home runs, losing his starting job, and being traded in the off-season to the Giants for a man with no back. Perhaps Finley has learned his lesson—do steroids often and always and never stop no matter what the expense—but only time will tell. And for now, he’ll remain on this list.