Who to give the 5th starting job to.

Well, it appears as though the last starting pitcher gig is going to go to either Scott Olsen or Garrett Mock, as JD Martin was optioned to Syracuse this morning.
Now, if you'll allow me to present my argument for who deserves the spot, based on hours of research and consultation with the best minds in baseball actually aiming my face towards the TV when these two pitch:

Mr. Rizzo and Mr. Rigglemen,
      If you do happen to decide upon Garrett Mock as your fifth starter, I will RIP YOUR FINGERS OFF AND USE THEM TO GOUGE MY OWN EYES OUT IN ORDER TO NOT BE SUBJECTED TO THAT HORRIBLENESS.
Sincerely yours,
Gavin

That wasn't so hard, was it? But... just in case you need more convincing, allow me to present Mr. Scott Olsen himself*, here to explain why he should get the gig.

"Sup, bitches? Look, I ain't gonna beat around the bush on this shit. G-Mock couldn't hit this. From 1.5 feet away. Pointed in the right direction.

Believe that. And why should I get the job? Shiiiiiit, I bring so much shit to the table, the table would be all broke and shit. From the weight of the shit. That I bring. To the table....

Whatever. I mean, shit, I'm Scott -motherfucking- Olsen. I kick so much butt, I kick ass

And, besides... how the hell you gonna say no to such a bad ass, tough, manly man like me? What's that? You doubt my machismo? Shiiiiiiit. You do know that I'm the baddest ass bad ass that's ever lived, right? No? Well then... peep this, jabronies.

You gonna deny the ladies from seeing that every fifth day? That's right. Didn't think so. I'm out!"


*Um, not actually Scott Olsen himself, but c'mon, you know that's what he's saying. Out loud to no one in particular as he struts around his hotel room in Viera with a bottle of Zima in his hand, and no shirt on. Actually, do they still even make Zima? Trick question! While they might not make it for you and me, they sure as shit would still make it for Scott Olsen!

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Congratulations!

Today is your day.

You're off to Great Places!

You're off and away!

Except... you aren't. No, you're not the object of Dr. Seuss' wildly cliched popular book given at the beginning of life after ending your education. Nope, you're Drew Storen and the book you're given after your first Spring Training is titled, "Oh, the Places Drew'll Go Back To Needlessly Before the Places You Should Go!"

Look, the stats are there, and this quote is there.

"I've said it the whole time: We're going to play the best 25 guys that give us the best chance to win," Rizzo said.

Yet Drew isn't there. Where is there? In Major League camp and on his way North with the club outta spring training. Others have touched on the subject, and I fear that if I start down the road of justifying Drew's spot in the bullpen any more, I'll end up storming down Half St. with a flaming pitch fork, war paint, and screaming, "Off with Rizzo's fucking head!" So I'll leave it at this: My hunch is Drew is going to have to baby sit Stras through AA and AAA. Drew has already been in the Minors, and can help Stras in his tour down there. Is it fair? Fuck and no. Is it reality? Fuck and yes.
So, Drew, your first stop on the Places You'll Go? Hagerstown, MD, home of the Hagerstown Suns. Hagerstown is also the home of... nothing else. (Click pictures to enlarge.)

Yes, Drew, I hope you had fun in BFE, and hopefully you won't have to return.

The next stops on the Drew Express? Click "Read more" to see.

All four of Strasburg's pitches

So, I was like a lot of Nats fans in that I was interested in seeing Strasburg's debut against some real Major League bats (Ordonez and Cabrera, specifically) on Tuesday. I admit, I haven't hyped up Strasburg too much in the past, and I haven't got my hopes up. I saw him in the College World Series first regional game for SDSU, and he kinda stunk up the joint. He threw a game in the Arizona Fall League where he gave up 8 runs and three home runs in 2 2/3 IP. I saw all these folks falling all over themselves to proclaim SS as the greatest pitching prospect in history, and I didn't buy it. Why? I dunno, maybe it's because we're talking about the fucking Nats here, and anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
So, all that said, I still skipped out of work for two hours on Tuesday to head home and watch the game. The rest of this post is heavy with animated gifs, so I'm gonna hide them from the main post. (Seriously, the loading of the rest of the post may be as slow and deliberate as Ron Villone. You have been warned!) If you wanna see all four of Strasburg's pitches, in really really crappy animated gifs (and many times over), click the read more link. Do not click if you're on dial up. Seriously. It won't load until, like, 2025. It's just like choosing to take the red pill or the blue pill. Only nothing like that at all, really.

My Nats stalking week. Always fun.

So, I got yelled at by someone who reads this shit that I haven't posted enough. I told them to follow me on Twitter, cause that's where I do most of my Nats talk. (twitter.com/section138) They reminded me that they have a microwave from the 1980s, and that there was no way they were going to ever learn what the hell Twitter was, let alone follow me on it.
I also got yelled at by someone who does follow me on Twitter that tweeting shouldn't be a replacement for my blog. So, after telling my mom to get off my back and out the basement (This is my space, mom!), I'm finally finishing a post I started weeks ago.
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Well, it was the Nationals Winter Caravan (Should that all be capitalized? I'm feeling like Screech's Best Friend here...) last week, and I managed to hit a couple stops to harass meet the guys. First up was a trip to Tysons Corner mall to meet Drew Storen, Ryan Speier, and Danny Espinosa. (Oh, Riggles and Dibble were there too.) I was fucking around at work earlier that day trying to figure out what to get Drew to sign. A pair of red socks? Too obvious. My breast(s)? Too creepy (and probably too punch-in-the-face inducing). How about a picture of how goddamn sweet he would look if he kept his socks? Meh, I was done thinking at that point, so that worked for me.
We hit the mall and found the guys in the front of the Build A Bear workshop looking really excited to be there. Seriously. They did. Anyway, first up was Drew Storen, and my wife introduced herself and handed him a baseball to sign. This ball's been signed by quite a few guys and all in ink. Drew only had a sharpie. He said he didn't want to ruin the ball, and asked for someone to get him a pen. Well, no one could find a pen, so to bide some time I handed him the picture I had printed out and asked him to sign it with his sharpie. He smiled a bit, gladly signed it, and shook my hand. Good kid. Good cuff-links, too. At this point there was still no sign of a ball point pen, and there were about ten people behind us. I was feeling bad, so I said to Drew, "You know... Luke Montz' signature is on the ball, so you really can't ruin it any more than it is [by using sharpie]." I'm not sure if he heard me right, though, because at that point he laughed. (Are ball players allowed laugh at people ragging on other ball players? Is there a whole un-written code book out there for this shit?) We finally scored a pen, Drew signed the wife's ball, and I bid him farewell. I highly regret not giving him any shit about ditching the socks, but I didn't want the guy to have me escorted out of the Build A Bear. I'm pretty sure they make you register on some kind of offender list for that.
I met Speier, and shot the shit with him about Radford. I asked him if he went there because of it's reputation as a party school, and he said, "No. Not really." I told him he could tell me... really. Who else am I gonna tell? The four people that read this? C'mon, seriously. He then admitted that the reputation the school had gotten in the 90s for being a party school was gone by the time he got there. I asked him when the hell he graduated. He said 2001. I then realized I'm an old ass bastard. Sigh. Oh... also... he's tall. We're talking Chewbacca tall here. Not as hairy, though.
Next up was Danny Espinosa, who I like a lot (and holy shit... I just did a search of my blog to link to the posts where I've talked about him. It came up empty. This is a travesty of the highest proportion, and I will see to it that whomever is responsible be killed). So, I'm chatting him up a little, but I get distracted. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my wife talking to Rob Dibble. She'd gotten Storen, Speier, and Espi to sign her ball, and now Dibbs is reaching out for it so he can sign it. I turn to watch what's happening, and the next thing I know, the wife pulls the fucking ball away from Dibble. She instead reaches for one of the signed photos every person has in front of them, and moves on to talk to Jim Riggleman.

100% true story, and the reason why, at that very moment, I knew I had chosen the right person to spend the rest of my life with. Love you, sweetie!

Now, here's the picture that I had Drew sign that is now framed and hanging in my office. Right at eye level so I can see it and talk to it. All. Day. Long.



I saw some more dudes at White Flint mall later that week, and got to get Clippard to sign something else I had made, but I'll make that another post. Right now, I gotta... well... I don't really have to do anything, but I know how much I hate reading. And if you guys hate reading things one quarter as much as I hate reading things then... well... you quit long ago.