Game 1: Yankees Pwned & Humiliated

Last night, Cliff Lee did the equivalent of dropping a smoke bomb in the Yankees dugout and then punching players in the face one by one as they blindly ran out. The biggest workout he got all night was when he had to adjust his legs to make sure Tim McCarver and Joe Buck had enough room to blow him at once instead of taking turns.

Absolute sadness. 

When someone is humiliating you without breaking a sweat, all you can say is "too good. Get ‘em next time." But as great as Lee was (and he was just frightfully nasty), the Yankees hitters were equally listless and uninspired. This was game 1 of the World Series and I saw no passion; no fire. By the 4th inning, this group couldn’t even be bothered. Taking cues from the indifferent, corporate non-fans who pay $2,500 for Legends seats and then fail to show, perhaps? Or maybe the flawed outcomes of the ALDS and ALCS lulled them into a false sense of security. Who needs to hit when a braindead, undisciplined opponent will cock things up for you?

I’m not saying Lee was hittable, but we didn’t make it hard on him either. Jeter aside, our players were defeated before they even reached the batter’s box. With that in mind, it’s not out of line to wonder if they’ll come to play tonight. The Phils are coming at us with Pedro Martinez and a patient lineup that can hit from top to bottom. The Yankees? Well, we’ve got the skittish A.J. Burnett, Joe Girardi’s management, middle relief that is cracking like a desert of burning shame and a lineup that can’t string together big run innings. Someone gets on base, only to be followed by a guy in a woeful slump, or, even worse, Nick Swisher, who is a case study in the failure of positivism to translate to post-season reliability. Then suddenly, it’s rally over, inning over, game over.

With the Phils, you know what you’re getting, but with our guys? One can never truly say and that’s what stresses me out. Tonight, we’re either going to blow Martinez back to the mango tree in the first inning or not bother showing up until the 8th. If it’s the latter, this will be a quick series indeed.

Were You Trying to Seduce Me, Mr. Pettitte?

I stayed up until 4:30 am watching the New York Yankees win their 40th AL Pennant, and now I’m too wired to sleep. In light of that, I have a few random thoughts.

1. Last night, Andy Pettitte worked the strike zone like an attentive lover. I wish I could trade places with it. I’d tell him myself but he’s yet to respond to the last letter I sent with locks of my hair in it.
2. If Robinson Cano was a genre of music, he’d be jazz — one of those smooth Charlie Parker joints with cool, easy getout phrases and soft, sweet, fairytale solos. Though Cano’s defensive play ranges in quality, the way he turns double plays is absolutely sublime.
3. Vladimir Guerrero is dumber than hair

1. In related news, the bulk of the Angels roster is shockingly dumb as well. The words fundamentals and smart should never be used in the same sentence as “Angels” ever again.

1. I mean, wow.

A-Rod 2.0™ Is Hitting Like the Natural

A-Rod 2.0™ (that’s right, I trademarked that!) is a man possessed. He’s playing baseball like he needs to put food on the table, which is something I never could have imagined. But what’s more important than 2.0 playing out of his mind (or maybe he’s finally IN his mind?) is that our bats came alive, and Joe Girardi kept his non-managing behind on the bench.

For once, we didn’t eke one out and sheepishly tip our hats to brain dead plays from the opposition. With CC Sabathia and 2.0 leading the charge, we completely dismantled the Angels, and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it. But watching 2.0 play like Roy Hobbs at Wrigley Field raises an important question about his past: Is Cynthia Rodriguez 2.0′s Memo Paris? 

Hang in with me here! In his post-season career, 2.0 has managed the following numbers: 

Before Cynthia (’95 – ’00)
18/53, .339 BA, .375 OBP, .566 SLG (World Series MVP in the making?)

Cynthia (’04 – ’07)
23/94, .244 BA, .372 OBP, .436 SLG (Pinch hitter in the making?)

After Cynthia (’09)
11/27, .407 BA, .469 OBP, 1.000 SLG (Oh my bloody G-d)

As you can see, that ravenous bitch sucked out 2.0′s life force and stored all his power in her biceps, so this theory is totally valid. But this revelation begs another important question – if Cynthia is Memo Paris, who is Iris Lemon? I’d say it is Kate Hudson, who is not only cute and friendly but also seems to be the first woman in 2.0′s life who can’t bench press him with her vagina’s labia majora. Then again…

… who’s to say who serves as Alex’s muse? All I know is that this person needs to be wary. A-Rod 2.0™ is in beta until the end of the 2009 season, and the last thing the Yankees need is some random glitch jacking up the final stages of installation.

Yankees Must Win In Spite of Girardi

Someone needs to tell Joe Girardi that the Yankees are in the ALCS, not the finals of the Bergen County Little League Championship where every pitcher on the team gets to have a shot on the mound.

After a decent 6.1 innings from Andy Pettitte (who should have pitched around Guerrero to get a matchup with Rivera), the game was tied at 3. So Girardi did what any sensible manager would do – he threw in Joba Chamberlain, who hasn’t been consistently fearsome since the midges sucked out his life force in 2007. Since then, the Joba Rules have left him a skittish mess. Far too much of a mess, in fact, to be relied upon in a tie ball game with time running out. So when Joba was inevitably rocked by Howie Kendrick and Erick Aybar, Girardi started up his Carousel of Foolish Gambles & Mismanagement:

Damaso Marte (LOOGY) flew out Figgins and was replaced by Phil Coke (LOOGY), who pitched Abreu – another lefty.

Now, I don’t think Marte is reliable enough to sit in the bullpen, let alone see the actual mound, but when the manager puts him on the roster and then doesn’t trust him to get more than one out, that manager is a fool.

We can thank Angels stupidity for keeping this move from burning us into the ground.

A manager’s primary job is to get the most out of his players. 75% of the time, the level of talent on our roster means the hitting and fielding will take care of themselves, and we don’t have to worry about Girardi’s erratic, nonsensical gambles. But our bats have been largely silent of late and our runners aren’t coming home. If those factors don’t change, Girardi will mismanage us right out of the post-season by doing other crazy things like:

Now, I keep hearing that I’m overreacting; that I need to keep the faith and let it play out. Perhaps they’re right but I’m unsettled by what I’ve seen. CC’s pitching and a few clutch hits aside, have we really risen above mediocrity this post-season? Have we shown ourselves to be a truly superior team? Most of our jaw-dropping defensive plays have come on bonehead base running errors. Even our final game winning run on Saturday can be directly attributed to Maicer Izturis temporarily losing his mind.

The Angels have been playing like the Texas Rangers and we are barely up 2-1. How long do you think that good fortune is going to last?

CNN Continues to Aid in Our Decline (& No One Cares)

I swung by CNN today because someone told me about an article on Sarah Palin uploading her resume to LinkedIn. I assumed it was created by her enemies because really? Once you become the most polarizing Vice Presidential candidate in the history of your country, there’s no reason to post your CV on the internet. What, like she’s gonna apply for a job? Will she provide references upon request? Pfft.

In any case, the sidebar of the post features a Twitter section that shows the most recent tweets from CNN and its personalities. At 2:00 AM BST, here are the top 3:

@KuhnCNN: RT @CNN: A MUST READ: We watch the Sunday shows so you don’t have to. John King’s Crib Sheet for October 18. http://bit.ly/2KNOGC
Updated: Sun, 18 Oct 2009 12:53:40 -0700

@cnnsotu: We watch the Sunday shows so you don’t have to. Read @JohnKingCNN’s Crib Sheet here: http://bit.ly/2KNOGC
Updated: Sun, 18 Oct 2009 12:52:00 -0700

@CNNPolitics: A MUST READ: We watch the Sunday shows so you don’t have to. John King’s Crib Sheet for October 18. http://bit.ly/2KNOGC
Updated: Sun, 18 Oct 2009 12:23:37 -0700

A must read crib sheet that covers "the Sunday shows so you don’t have to." What CNN and most of America fail to appreciate is that they not only should have to but they also need to. You can’t grasp the depth and breadth of what’s happening in DC and the international arena by reading John King’s two paragraphs on "the clear message from the White House" and bulleted quotes in the "Highlights of the Sound of Sunday" and "A Few Parting Notes and Sounds" sections. You’ll have an idea but you’ll never understand.

"But I don’t have time!"

Sure you do. We spend all day wrapped up in sports and entertainment news – reading articles, watching press conferences and interviews, taking polls, checking injury reports. We waste hours on message boards complaining that Charlie Weis can’t coach his way out of a paper bag (a fact that is not up for debate) and even more checking in on those douchebags on TLC with 8 kids. But we can’t find time to catch programs like Meet the Press or Face the Nation, which provide information straight from the nation’s leaders, while doing their best to peel away the spin and prefabricated bull.

Now, these shows don’t always accomplish the latter. In fact, they sometimes become podiums for the guest’s agenda, but at least viewers can develop informed opinions based on what they’ve actually heard instead of ignorant ones based on prepackaged soundbites delivered out of context. But I guess doing that would require actual effort and participation – a tall order for people who often seek to get by doing as little as possible.

"I want to lose weight but I don’t want to eat right or exercise." "I want to be a better athlete but I don’t want to train." "I want to get rich but I don’t want to save." "I want to keep up with world affairs but I’d rather watch Berman, TJ and Keyshawn jaw on NFL Countdown."

The United States has become a CliffsNotes nation that thrives on the half-ass shortcut. People don’t form opinions until someone does the legwork for them. What’s astonishing is that they then have the nerve to react and get all up in arms as if they have half a clue.

I started out this post planning to rail on CNN for exacerbating this problem for profit, but we’re the ones at fault because no one cares enough to do anything about it. But who knows, maybe CNN can create a slick method for caring on our behalf.

A MUST READ. We care so you don’t have to. 

A-Rod 2.0™ – Now with 100% More Clutch!

This morning, Mark Teixeira woke up in a city that never sleeps, and found he’s king of the hill, top of the heap. But you know what’s crazy about that? He wouldn’t have been in the position to be the hero with a screaming walk-off homer without the double clutch efforts of Alex Rodriguez. Yeah, that Alex Rodriguez. He of the .159 batting average and 1 RBI in October since game 4 of the 2004 ALCS.

In the bottom of the sixth, the Yankees were down 1-0 with Derek Jeter on second. Any other October would have seen A-Rod pop out after an impatient at-bat that went something like this: *swing* dammit. *swing* dammit. *swing* almost! *swing* almost! *swing* FUCK! Why am I so awful? I gotta tighten up. No loosen up. No ti– hmm. I wonder if the guys like me. They like Jetes. Why don’t they look me in the eye? Deep breath. Don’t let them know you’re sad, Alex.

Instead, he ripped a single up the 3rd baseline to score Jeter and even the game. And then when we went down 3-1 after Phil Hughes and Mariano Rivera were inexplicably clowned by a handful of backups, A-Rod came to the plate for a face-off with Twins reliever Joe Nathan. With a man on base, the stage was set for another classic post-season failure. But then Joe Nathan morphed into Brad Lidge, while A-Rod was chilin out, maxin and relaxin all cool at the plate. At 3-1, A-Rod came unhinged and blasted Nathan’s 94 mph fastball into the Yankees bullpen.

If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it.

It’s as if the Yankees are in Bizarro World. White is black, up is down and Alex Rodriguez is showing up to do more than chew bubblegum and look frantic in October. Since returning from the DL in May, Rodriguez has partnered with Mark Teixeira to power the most feared hitting machine in the game. We went 51-17 after his return, and about half of his RBIs either tied games or allowed us to take the lead. All the same, I wasn’t about to lead myself on with false hopes about our post-season prospects.

For the last eight years, the Yankees have jerked us around – first with has-been mercenaries and then with the most spectacular headcase the game has ever seen. So what if we have the most complete team since the 1990s dynasty? In the post-season, the lads go as A-Rod goes. How we could possibly survive the ALDS and then topple those pesky Angels and all of their damned fundamentals to reach the World Series was beyond me.

But after Friday night, consider me officially lead on. The Yankees are in it to win it, and for the first time, so is Alex Rodriguez. Crazy, isn’t it?

Cheeky Cognitive Dissonance, FTW!

G-d bless the internets; I just found one helluva deal!

Whether you’re an Obama supporter who dabbles in white sheets and/or good old fashioned Southern pride, or an ironic, attention-seeking, hipster doofus who hopes to upset those around you, this 3′ x 5′ vinyl beauty can be yours (wrinkles included) for just $12.95 (USD). Talk about a bargain! I mean, you’re getting a handsome set of Stars & Bars, AND an undeserving Nobel Peace Prize winner who didn’t have the minerals to decline even though he’s fighting two wars, is about to bomb the moon and excels in little more than oratory seduction and good intentions.

50% off the retail price is so cheap it’s almost offensive.

Now, I don’t know where you display this or even how you  talk about it to others without putting yourself in danger. But I have a feeling that the only time and place you could get away with it would be in SEC country during Rivalry Week. When your neighbors question you, and they will, just shrug your shoulders and say, "Hey, we’re just a house divided." They’ll understand. It’s the South – a land where seemingly illogical and nonsensical juxtapositions require little to no explanation because people have grown accustomed to having neighbors like this:

Gruden (v): To Perform Shameless Verbal Fellatio on NFL Player

You know, a lot of people have been talking mess about Jon Gruden for adding absolutely nothing but energetic inanities to the weekly Monday Night Football broadcasts.

Now maybe some people don’t like him because he reminds them of that evil high school boy who they secretly hoped would get the emotional shit kicked out of him by life after graduation. Or maybe its because he spews rubbish like this:

All are completely valid reasons to hate on the man (guess which one is mine), but I think it’s time we stop criticizing and give this championship coach the credit he’s due. You see, Jon Gruden just successfully called a 3.5 hour football game with Brett Favre’s cock lodged balls deep in his throat.

What, like you could do the same? Please.

But you know what? I bet tonight was a pretty cool experience for the old chap. Even though it goes without saying that Gruden always had a mouth like a Hoover, I bet he never imagined he’d reach the highest heights as the Champ Kind to Brett Favre’s Ron Burgundy when he was the Packers receiving coach in 1992 (did you know he had that job?). So let’s give a hip, hooray and huzzah to Jon Gruden. It’s time we tip our hats to him for a job well done.

UNSEXY UPDATE:

After giving Gruden the Maypole dance of a lifetime, Favre got the rest of ESPN drunk, made sweet love to them under the Minnesota stars and then cooked pancakes and sausages for them this morning.

What really scares me now is the possibility that the Vikings could somehow end up in the Super Bowl. Normally, I’d take solace in the fact that after week 12, Favre starts shitting the bed, but now he has Adrian Peterson and the Jared Allen defense. Who’s going to stop them? And more importantly, who is going to stop the media from shoving it down our throats? ESPN has monopolized sports broadcasting and the rest of the media takes its cues from the Worldwide Leader’s example.

We’re in serious trouble.

Oh No They Didn’t!

Today, the IOC did the unthinkable by telling Oprah, Team Obama and the USOC to go eff themselves right out of the gate. Even Tokyo got to pass "Go" and collect $200, while Chicago and its sad 18 votes had to pack up and go home.

Perhaps members believed they were voting for the country that they DIDN’T want to host the games. Or maybe it’s all a conspiracy to get the previously discussed O-lympics off the ground and the IOC members are in on it.

In any case, after putting their collective foot in America’s ass,  the IOC did something even more insane. They granted the 2016 Summer Olympic Games to a city renowned for being a debauched, delicious cocktail of samba, sun and sex*.

What the hell were they thinking?

*Rio is famous for murders too but murders aren’t sexy. Besides, throwing that in there jacked with the alliteration, and I know those subtle touches are why you read this blog.

The Power of O: Chicago Will Score the Olympics

So the Obamas are in Copenhagen trying to convince the IOC to award the 2016 Summer Olympics to Chicago. It’s logical to think that Chicago is a lock because what member of the international community can resist Barak Obama’s charms? Over here, he’s like the Second Coming with a splash of Bono, so the mere thought of being massaged by his seductive baritone should make even the most mercurial characters of the IOC weak in the knees.

But like men who blurt out "I love you" during sex and don’t mean it, the IOC will declare their love for Chicago when Obama delivers a moving speech about the spark, energy and verve of that toddlin’ town only to reverse course once they come out of that post-Oh haze. By dinner time, Chicago will be back where it started – scrambling against the intoxicating flora and fauna of Rio, the sentimental favorite in Madrid and the awesomeness of their bribes.

See, IOC members base their votes not on the quality of the host location but on the quality of its corruption, and even though no town does corruption like Chicago, Rio and Madrid have been leaning on the IOC since the late 1990s. So even though Chicago will generate more revenue and guarantee more profitable television contracts, the Second City is far from having this in the bag. That’s why the delegation brought along its ace in the hole – not Barak Obama or even Michael Jordan, who would just sabotage the effort by talking about how the IOC wronged him, but Oprah Winfrey.

If my twenty-odd years on this earth have taught me anything, it is this: you don’t fuck with The O. Should the IOC rule against Chicago, Oprah will direct her self-actualized, co-dependent army to boycott the 2012 London games. They won’t attend and they won’t watch. Christ, some may not even participate. NBC, Coca-Cola and McDonalds won’t have the minerals to fight her stand, and by the time the 2016 Games roll around (assuming O hasn’t already bought it and shut it down), it will be banished to the Versus Network, where it will compete for airtime against Slam Ball, IndyCar and the World Combat League. 

In its place will be the O-lympics, a new brand of games put on by Harpo Productions. It’ll be just like the old games but Oprah-fied to be bigger, better, faster, more. Mary Carillo will do features on athletes who live their best lives, while Gayle King takes over Bob Costas’ chair at the update desk. Baseball and softball will return, and women who don’t know what to watch when gymnastics, swimming and track aren’t on will be aided by The O List – a ranking of useless, bullshit pursuits like the biathlon, dressage and power walking that she deems worth the watch.

What, you doubt Oprah’s ability to pull this off? Anyone who dares go up against her fails with spectacularly disastrous results. Just ask the Texas cattle industry or Hermes or even Chris Brown.

Oprah is a post-modern priestess who controls the hearts and minds of 89% of the world’s women between the ages of 18 – 75. Her show is seen in 140 countries, and through that medium, she legislates what they eat, drink, read and wear. In Saudi Arabia, she’s revered as some sort of mystical goddess, and if she could wrangle the affections of the non-sensitive male, I’d swear she was the Antichrist.

Her poor choices in literature ensure that even the most undeserving authors can land on the New York Times Bestseller’s List. Her recommendation can turn a barely-getting-by niche operation into a multi-million dollar global behemoth. She got a man elected President* and had the power to shut down Michigan Avenue, one of the busiest streets in the world, so the horrifyingly awful Black Eyed Peas could perform in front of a flash mob.

Her mere mention of free gifts causes women to spontaneously combust, screaming and crying and praising Jesus. They find out they’re getting a Josh Groban cd and a pair of cashmere mittens and react like they just found out their vaginas are made out of diamonds.

I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Oprah was responsible for Jesus Christ’s crucifixion. When Pontius Pilate asked, "Which one do you want me to release to you: Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?" Oprah whipped up the crowd for Barabbas and fled the scene, cleverly disguised as a Hebrew mother of twelve. 

In short, when Oprah says jump, you don’t ask how high. You fucking jump and sweat the details when you come back down. What Americans know and members of the IOC had better understand is that this is Oprah’s world. The rest of us are just squirrels trying to get a nut, and if the IOC knows what’s best for them, Chicago will be awarded the 2016 Summer Olympic Games.

* Oh so vital edit
Rabid Crazies picture courtesy: The Huffington Post