Fresh off the beanfest that was the Nats-Mets series last week, MLB has stepped in to tell the two squads to "just play ball." 
Now, Major League Baseball is normally all over this kind of thing. Look how quickly and tidily they cleaned up that whole steriod mess. Frankly, we are stunned it even came to this. The Metropolitans and the Nationals should know better.
MLB giving the two teams a stern warning reminds us of growing up in our household, which contained six kids. The house was just small enough that everybody was always all over the place. Things got chaotic, especially during our more formidable years. You'd get smacked around, and then you'd smack the little brother around. Sometimes you got away with it, most of the time you didn't.
But when things got too crazy, Mom or Dad would come over and say, "Hey - knock it off," and give that look that you really didn't want to get. The ante got upped. You had to be sneaky about what you were about to do, because if (read: when) you got caught, you were in big trouble. But the fact remained: you were going to smack him back. Oh, please believe that.
Same thing with the "just play ball" warning from MLB. "We let you mess around, but if you start plunking people in the helmet again, you are really in trouble." Now, our parents were alot scarier than MLB. You think either the Mets or the Nats are scared of any retribution from Selig Fife (can't tell you how much we love that nickname)? Well, they aren't. That warning will have no bearing on any beanballs either team was planning on throwing. If anything, it upped the ante even more. Knowing the suspension will be even greater, its now more of a badge of honor to "defend" your teammates.
We predict a hail of beanballs, suspensions galore, fans loving it and not one player caring in the slightest that they were suspended.
And if Jose Guillen has any nuts at all, he'll charge the mound like a man when he gets drilled. That was such a sorry exhibition of mound-charging, he should be ashamed of himself. No one thinks any less of you if you don't charge the mound. But if you are going to walk out there, THEN GO. None of this walk out halfway, point your bat and wait for everyone to grab you. "Hold me back! I swear to God, I'm gonna...hey, why isn't any one holding me back? Oh, there we go...I'm gonna kill you, you're lucky they're holding me back!" I'm sure Pedro was shaking. The man took on Don Zimmer for God's sake.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang. We mean you, Jose.
Cory Sullivan goes down in history
Cory Sullivan of the Colorado Rockies hit two triples in the same inning last night against the San Diego Padres. First time its been done in over 50 years. Cory has to be stoked he got his name in the record books in one of the most unexpected ways possible.
Sullivan's feat was one of those random, exciting, cool little things it would be great to brag to your buddies that you saw in person. So, if you were at a baseball game, what random thing would you most like to see?
Obviously, things like perfect games or four home runs in a game rarely happen, and are usually reserved for super star level players, although not always. What we're talking about are random plays that could happen to anyone - and that's usually the way it goes down. The player doesn't really "achieve" them, it just seems to happen to them. Anyways, which one would you most want to see live?
Judgement Day
For every athlete, it happens at one time or another. Its what seperates the good from the great, the great from the legendary. It is that one moment that will always associate itself with that player. It can make them or break them, but one thing is certain: it will define them.
For Ricky Williams, that day is today.
Ricky meets with league officials today in an attempt to overturn his fourth drug-related suspension in his career. If he fails, he's suspended for a year. If he succeeds, he hits paydirt. Considering Ricky owes the 'Fins over 8 million dollars, I'm sure he's giving this all the seriousness it deserves.
We aren't sure about Ricky, but if we had a meeting with $8 mil riding on it, we'd be a little tense. The key is to find a way to unwind, to relax. Do a little yoga, squeeze a stress reliever, light up a J. Just do something. If you just sit and think about it, you'll go nuts.
Ricky's agent said that Ricky's test was a "false-positive," that some other drug caused Ricky to fail his test (we're going to play it conservative and rule out steriods, considering he looked like he rolled in off the beach and into training camp last season).
Now, far be it from us to presume that an agent is lying for his client, but let's face the facts. Ricky is a pothead. That's all there is to it. You are who you are, and Ricky likes the herb. Fine. He can wrap it up in any life style he wants and say he's changed until he's blue in the face (which you can see through all those little holes in his patchy beard). Makes no difference. Ricky gets high. It's what he does. If he wins his meeting, he'll celebrate with a nice, fat blunt, probably rolled in one of the hundred dollar bills he owes the Dolphins, and then go have a urine replacment procedure, like Omar Gooding on Playmakers..
Now, Ricky might pull this off, but even if he does, something tells me it isn't the last time you will hear weed and Ricky Williams in the same sentece. Just a gut feeling.
A Tradition Unlike Any Other
The Masters has possibly one of the coolest slogan's in sports - "A tradition unlike any other." It's simple, it's powerful, it's inviting, and it's damn-near intimidating. Plus, it's better than the slogan for the NBA Finals: "We can't believe how long it took to get to this point, either. Was that first round series between the 4 and 5 seeds going seven games really necessary? Frankly, we're tired. Let's hope for some close games, but perhaps a sweep." Just a bit on the lengthy side, we think.
But the Masters really does have a tradition unlike any other. The winner gets his Green Jacket (one of the most badass pieces of clothing in sports, by the way, right up there with NBA players wearing tights, the Laker's title jackets and the Mavericks shiny uniforms) placed on him by last year's winner.
Now, this might get taken for granted just a little bit. Imagine if this was how champs were crowned in every other sport? Could you see Rasheed Wallace handing a trophy to Bruce Bowen? Hell no. The Patriots showing up in Indianapolis to give the Lombardi to the Steelers? The White Sox being crowned by the Red Sox? Whoever won the NHL last year being given the trophy by whoever won it the year before (if they even had a season)?
Take it a little further, to the divisional level. How about Peyton giving the AFC trophy to Tom Brady, or Jonny Damon being handed some hardware by Curt Shilling? While we're at it, let's have the Pacers presents the Pistons with a trophy any time they play eachother in the playoffs.
Can you imagine that happening? Of course not. It would be so incredibly akward, and there is an above average chance a fight would break out. At the very least, we'd get some spirited trash talk. The trophy might even get smashed. Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
Which is exactly why it needs to happen. We vote for The Masters tradition to no longer be unlike any other - we want it for all sports! Winner take all, then humiliate whoever won it before you!
Just look at the fake smile on Tiger's face in the picture (above). He's thinking to himself, "You little mulleted bastard. You know I'm better than you, right? You do know I could kick your ass, and my nanny is hotter than your wife, right? You're aware of this? You're aware that if this wasn't in public, I would be giving your man boobs the biggest titty twister ever, right? K, just makin sure."
Just think: if Tiger can work up that kind of animosity, can you imagine 'Sheed?
Phil wins. We grumble.
So Lefty won his second Masters. Congratulations, Phil. We guess.
For some reason - and honestly, we can't even articulate it - we just don't like the guy. Which is strange, because we were all about him winning his first major. But now that he's won a couple...well, not so much. We genuinely can't figure out why we aren't feeling him anymore, but somewhere between his first Jacket and his second, we fell off the Lefty Bandwagon. Hard, too.
Maybe it's the man boobs.
Maybe it's the mullet he's trying to grow.
Maybe it was that gawd awful, some-one-save-him-from-himself, I-can't-believe-I-was-cheering-for-someone-who-did-that leap after he won the Masters in '04.
Maybe it was him wearing the Green Jacket for an absurdly long time after the win (Yea, Phil, we got it. You won. After 48 tries. Now take the damn jacket off).
Maybe it's that his wife is so out of his league, it makes us want to ram a spoon in our eyes, Houston-style, out of petty jealousy.
Maybe it's our general despise of dynasties, or anything even remotely trying to approach that (although we were cheering for Tiger, hard core. Someone get us to a shrink).
Maybe we are buying into the rumors that most of the players on tour can't stand the guy. (Or maybe we just love the alleged nickname his peers have given him: FIGJAM - Fuck I'm Good. Just Ask Me.)
Maybe its the cumulative effect. Who knows? All we know is, our Sunday was a little less enjoyable because Lefty got to rock The Jacket for the second time in three years. And we really have no good reason not to to like him.
You know what? On second thought...yea, it's definetly the man boobs.
And please, please, please don't let "Mickel-Slam" enter the lexicon. We cannot and will not deal with such a term. That will top "paralysis by analysis" and "upside" as the single word in sports that just causes immediate cringing.
