The Winter Meetings are here!

And they mean so much to us baseball fans right now that I'm capitalizing them! In fact, let's just rename them, shall we? The Goddamn Awesomest, Drinkinest,  Wheelinest, and Dealinest Winter Meetings are here!

Mr. Michael Rizzo and Mr. Mark Lerner are sitting in their booth, ready to wine and dine potential clients. Look, here's a picture of them! (Let me know if I did this right.)

"Can we interest you in some cool pens? Take as many as you want!"

If you didn't get the reference, then I'm sorry, but you're missing teh awesomest part of the internet. And I just feel sorry for you. (Or is it me that I feel sorry for? Yes. It's me. Curse you, Reddit! /Sobs quietly while eating Cheetos and browsing r/pics.)

How sweep it is!

Why yes, that headline is a duplicate of a tweet I made last night. Big whoop, wanna fight about it?

Our valiant band of brothers, dressed in red, white and blue, strode strongly into Citizens Bank Park (or is it Nats Park North*?) and proceeded to layeth the smack down on the Phillie's roody-poo candy-asses. (How many readers did I lose with a wrestling reference? Three? Gah! You other two, please stay! I'll make s'mores, and we'll sit by the camp fire singing songs and shit! Don't leave me!)

Three days later, and the final tally in games won was Nats: 4, Phillies 0. In high fa-looting baseball circles, where they use terms like "babip" and "fWar," they call this a "sweep." Wait... Did somebody say "Sweep?!" Clean up in aisle nine, Danny!

I really could have chosen a lot of Nats to be pushing that broom; any of the starters (besides Lannan), Wilson Ramos, or even Zim. But Danny gets the nod for two reasons:

1. His slash line was .313/.389/.750 with 2 HR during the sweep.
2. I gave up sponsorship of his baseball-reference page two days ago, and I'm still crying my eyes out about it.

Yes, gone are the days of seeing this glorious sight multiple times a day, as I had it set as my homepage for both home and work browsers. Baseball-ref wanted waaaay too much money for me to renew my sponsorship (we're talking multiple cases of Sam Adams Double Bock prices here! /no beer snob), so I'll now have to be content to just gaze upon it longingly, like Ray King does a cheeseburger. Like Lastings Milledge does a nice easy route to a flyball. Like Cliff Lee does a Danny Espinosa at bat against him resulting in, well, anything but a home run. (By the way, if anyone would like to donate money towards either renewing the sponsorship or Sam Adams Double Bock, well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Paypal: phishisgr8@gmail.com, dammit!)

* I don't know who to credit "Nats Park North" to, as I saw it floating around on Twitter quite a bit. So, to whoever you are, Mr. or Mrs. Witty Word Play, I salute you. May your house be blessed with many winning seasons, and shall no one enter with the intention of neither vomiting upon you, nor punching you in the face in the name of Philadelphia. If that does occur, however, feel free to mention the 2011 season, and how the final head-to-head series win count was in favor of the Nationals 10 to 8. But have at least 18 apples ready, as you will have to teach them what the numbers 10 and 8 mean, and how 10 is greater than 8. Might as well get at least 20 apples, though, as it could take days to teach folks from Philly how to count, and you're gonna need to eat. (Bang! Pow! Zip! Right in the kisser! I just said Philly folks can't count, which every 3-year-old in the country (outside of Philly, that is) can do! I WIN!!111!)

Ryan Zimemrman kills it, and Bryce Harper... also kills it. Too. As well.

If you didn't see Ryan Zimmerman's colossal shot that just missed hitting the left field concourse by a couple rows, well, you can click here. Or, just look below. In handy, dandy gif form is Zim just destroying some leather-wrapped cork and twine.

As a certain black orange brown (what the fuck color is Goofy?) animated dog would say, "GORSH!" Mike Leake probably wishes he would have stolen some sand to bury his head in instead of those t-shirts, AM I RIGHT?!?!? (Jokes about four-month-old news, folks. Yup, that's what you're getting right here.)

Not to be outdone, however, was Bryce Harper, who destroyed a baseball himself a couple nights ago. Not only was it his first homerun in front of the home field fans at Harrisburg, it was also a walk-off moon shot the likes of which, well, we'll get to that... First, witness the greatness:

Did you see where that ball went? It cleared the batter's eye in dead center field. That batter's eye wall is 400 feet from the plate. And its height? Great googly moogly! A closer look at that wall reveals just how incredible that home run was. I found this picture of it on the interwebs:

Now, what's that thing standing by the wall?

HOLY GODZILLA! Man! Whoa! A quick check of Wikipedia reveals that Godzilla stands 328 feet tall. His head seems to be above the wall, leaving the height of the wall to be from his feet to his neck, or, like, 300 feet tall. Now, if you factor in the height of the batter's eye (300') and the distance the batter's eye is from the plate (400') you get the true distance of how far that ball traveled. Don't worry yourself with the figures, though, as I did the math for you folks. (This is a full service blog, after all.) Are you ready for it?

Bryce Harper hit that ball 7,234,176 feet!!!!!!! That's gotta be, like, some kind of record, right?! Hey, Bryce, if that is a record, just let me know if you want me to get in touch with the folks over at the Guinness Book of World Records to provide them with my data. Then it can be all official like.

Did anyone get the number of that truck?

I did! It was #33, Juan Rivera. He decided (very wisely, no matter what the outcome of the play was) to bowl over Chase Utley last night on a ground ball to second, and I love the man for that.

Chase Utley's scummieness has been well documented over at these here parts, and it brought a large smile to my face when I saw this on MLB network this morning. I was so happy, in fact, that I made a video of the glorious event and put it to music. I think Mr. Ludacris did a bang up job of summing up my thoughts. (With special emphasis put on the last line of the video.)

Ahh... all is good for now. The Section 138 lynch mob has been pleased with Juan Rivera's offering. While the hit didn't put Chase Utley out, it did garner Mr. Rivera a free beer or three from me anytime he wants, and a spot in the Section 138 HOF*.

(*There is no Section138 Hall of Fame, unfortunately, as the more I thought about it, the more I saw the possibility of several members being admitted because I was blind drunk at the time. Seriously, the Hall would have, like, 4,345 members in it. Lastings Milledge? Sure, he made that play that one time. Todd Coffey? Sure, he made me giggle with his jiggle. See where I'm going with this? I'm pretty sure at some point in his tenure, I've even agreed with Bobby Carpenter, and would've pulled the trigger on electing him in. And the only Halls that should have Bob Carpenter as a member are the Hall of Corny, and the Hall of Generic White Announcers From the Central Time Zone Who Have Covered Baseball, Pro Tennis, Pro Golf, and Have Graduated From the University of Missouri-Kansas City.)

Hooray! I didn't have to cringe this time!

A play occurred in Monday's game that resulted in the ball being thrown a gazillion rows up into the stands. Sure, sure, it's a regular happening at Nats park, but, the difference this time? It wasn't a Nat, and I roffl'd as opposed to ohnoes'd. (Aaaaand, I've already used up my meme allowance for the entire post in the first paragraph.)
A ground ball was hit to Alex Gonzalez (the Braves shortstop as well as the holder of the awesome nickname "Sea Bass") who threw the ball to second base to try and start a double play. Well, eventually he threw it, after triple clutching it, leaving Dan Uggla (the Braves second baseman as well as the wearer of youth sized clothing) with an awkward angle to make a play with. He tried....  You know what? I've already written enough, and video'd too little. LET'S YAKETY SAX THAT MAN!

And, just for the hell of it, let's make a gif out of those three glorious angles.

Bang up job there, skinny sleeves. Maybe if you didn't wear your wife's jersey, you would still have some feeling left in your hands and fingers, allowing you to make that play. Also... screw you for being rich, famous, and (from what the ladies tell me) handsome, you big jerk face!

At least we still have Livo.

Well, for now, at least. The trade deadline is fast approaching and someone somewhere might need an injection of COOL AS SHIT into their clubhouse for a playoff push.

Livo's always showed the demeanor of a cucumber on the mound, and in Wednesday's ballgame, made one of the most nonchalant plays in the history of base ball. (That's, like, going all the way back to what it was called when Old Hoss Radbourn played.) He threw his ¡Livo-ball! to Hanley Ramirez, who proceeded to hit it right back to him. How does Livan field it?

Like a goddamn pimp, that's how. Shit, that man be so cool, women give him their phone numbers. (I'm living proof that this is the most difficult thing to accomplish on the planet. Split an atom? Shit, son, that's 8th grade physics. Have a women give you her number (her real number) unsolicited? Professor Livo teaches that fucking class.)

So, just how cool is Livan Hernandez? Well, word has it that Frank Sinatra approached Albert Einstein in the 1940s about inventing a time machine. What did he want to use the time machine for? Oh, you know what he used it for. To go to the future, visit the smoothest living male of all time, bring that man back to 1960's Vegas, and party it up with that bad mother fucker like no party has ever been partied. In fact, I hear there might just be a couple pictures floating around of that very event...

Ahhhhhh, yeah, Livo. You bad. I mean, look at you, looking like you don't give two shits about nothing. You bad, indeed.

Fare thee well, Mr. Chico. Fare. Thee. Well.

In making my afternoon visit to Nationals Prospects (What, like you don't visit the same websites multiple times per day? Alright then, Mr. or Mrs. "I love getting my news and LOLs hours, or even DAYS later than everyone else." Good luck when the goddamn zombie apocalypse breaks and Nationals Prospects is the only place in the entire world to have that info! Don't come crying to me asking for zombie brain smashing equipment, you should'a known about the breakout same as me.) I came across this devastating news:

Matt Chico was released by the Washington Nationals.

Now, while I know his name has been used by some bloggers and Tweeters as a running joke, I never had nothing but love for the brother. See, on the God awful 2007 Nats squad, all the kid did was take the ball every time they asked, and he led that team that year with 31 starts. Sure, he also led that squad in wild pitches and, if it wasn't for Jason Simontacchi, he would've also led that team in WHIP, but the kid gutted it out. He won my heart that year, and if you search this here blog using that label Chico Man, you'll find he was the first Nat I actually developed a man crush on. I mean, Christ, I named my first born daughter Matilda Chica for shit's sake. (Even if it was only on Twitter, and not the actual birth certificate.)
So, as I prepare myself to journey to the beer store with nothing but thoughts of pouring a few out for the Left Coast Lefty in my head, I leave you with one of my first posts after Matty returned from Tommy John surgery in 2009. If you find yourself tearing up while reading it, fear not, for it only proves two things. 1) That you love, love, love pink, and 2) That Matt was sent from above by some higher form of life to inspire and....
I can't do it. I can't write any longer. Sure is dusty in here... God speed, Mr. Chico.
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Matt Chico - Bringing sexy back 

Monday, June 29, 2009

No offense, Nick Johnson... but can you rock the fucking pink like Matty Chico can rock the fucking pink?

Yes, ladies... the left coast lefty made his AA rehab debut over the weekend. He also happened to do it during Harrisburg's "Pink Weekend", which is a team effort with the Senators and the Pennsylvania Breast Cancer Coalition.

So, he not only stole some hearts that night, but he stole some of cancer's evil, evil powers as well.

Be on the look out for Matty and his newly bionic left arm sometime soon at a ballpark near you (if you live in Harrisburg, Syracuse, or the DC area, anyway). He might even let you carry his glove, if you know what I mean.


(I have no idea what I mean. Seriously.)

Clip Clip Hooray!

Have I never used that as a post title before? Well, shit, my tacky side apologizes for avoiding that until now.
Anywhoo, hooray Tyler Clippard! Our boy got the win last night for the victorious National League team in the 2011 All-Star-Replacement Game. What role he played in that win doesn't matter. He got the win. And a win is a win is a win is a win.
Oh, wait... he only faced one batter? And gave up a hit to that batter? Again, so-goddamn-what. As long as Tyler himself enjoyed and embraced his part in last night's game, so do I. Here's what Clipp had to say:

"What a way to do it. That's probably the definition of a vulture win," Clippard said. "It was fun - great experiences, something I'll never forget."

Now, here's what I have to say:

Soar high, Tyler. Soar. Fucking. High.

Cherish this moment, Clipp. You've earned the opportunity by being one of the most dominant relievers in the league, and certainly the most valuable member of the Nats bullpen over the last couple years. With that magical high fastball, that majestic change up, and that incredible knack for vulturing wins, you've established yourself as the baddest-ass raptor on the planet. Well, okay, bald eagles are some bad-assed fuckers... but let's see one of them compile a strikeout per 9IP ratio anywhere close to your 11.00. Nope. All they do is fly, and kill mice and shit. Big whoop. Call me when they have a better inherited runners scored percentage than your 19%, then I might begrudgingly shake their wing. (But it will be a limp, sweaty hand to wing shake, dammit. That's just how I roll.)

Bryce Harper gets to play with Derek Norris.

Well, it appears the Washington Nationals front office really, really likes Bryce Harper. So much so, in fact, that they skipped him forward a level, choosing to bypass the high-A Potomac Nationals, and sent him directly to the AA Harrisburg Senators. (They did allow him to pass go, however, and also allowed him to collect the $200 for it. Which for Bryce, is like... what he throws at bums while in his GIANT-ASS HOOPTY at intersections.) I cannot tell you how much this move favors Bryce. I mean, the Nats think so highly of him, that they are going to let him play with the man-bot himself, Derek Norris! (DeNo and I go way back, of course.) Bryce and DeNo got together a little before the game, and Harper peppered Derek with all kinds of questions. "What does this guy throw?" "Any hot babes in the crowd tonight ask about me?" "Where can I get super cool laser eyes like you?"* "Can I have your autograph please, Mr. Norris?"

*Derek does, indeed, have super cyborg laser eyes that can tell what pitch is coming, its speed, and its location. It's not recognizable to the naked eye, but if you spend enough time scouting stalking DeNo as I do, you can tell the exact moment he uses them, and can snap a picture if you're quick enough. I caught him in the dugout w/Bryce, using his powers last night:

See that look on Bryce's face? That's the "Whoa, shit goddamn, man!" look. He gets it around DeNo, Ryan Zimmerman, and when he's watching CMT's Biggest Redneck Wedding Ever. (What? He's not a redneck? Shiiiittt, did you even look at that link above about his hoopty?)

So, what happened last night? Well, Bryce did... okay (2-3 2 1B, 1 BB) but DeNo put an absolute ass whipping on the opponent, the Erie SeaWolves. (The what? SeaWolves? I ain't never seen any wolves swimming around in the sea, but... fucking whatever, man.) Derek went 3-4 w/2 HR, 1 2b, and a walk. That is called raking, my friends. And Derek raked till he couldn't rake no more. That'll do, DeNo. That'll do.

(There's also another argument going around that the Nationals didn't want Bryce to play for Potomac because of their field conditions. Apparently the outfield is a swamp that has alligators in it that eats outfielder's legs and shit. Or something. All I know is that it doesn't drain very well, and since it's rained quite a bit lately, the field is often unplayable. If this is the scenario that really happened, well then... Bryce Harper turned to his friend from above for some help.

(Hooray, I'm posting old blog gimmicks again! Do you know where the above picture is from? You don't? Well, then, hooray for today! You're truly lucky, I must say! Click here and waste your time away!)

Sorry about that rhyming above. This is what happens when you have a one-year-old that wants you to read her Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb a gajillion times in a row. I love her to death, but if I recite "Dum Ditty, Dum Ditty, Dum Dum Dum" a few more times, I'm going to snap the next time I hear a drummer. Some poor kid playing some buckets outside the Navy Yard metro station after a Nats game is going to have a skinny white guy attack him like Dmitri Young going after the last bag of Chips Ahoy! in his house. It won;t be pretty, my friends.

Nats just won 11 of 12 and... wait, WHAT!?!?!

Video I just received from the Nationals clubhouse after the game. In it, you can clearly see Jim Riggleman talking to the Nationals front office.

More, on tonight's 11 PM newscast, only on Section138 News.

It's Giffmas, my friends.

Well, hello there, fine people. My apologies for being gone five days, but I've been pretty swamped with work. Oh, and I was also so damn excited after Wilson Ramos' walk-off HR on Tuesday night that I ran to downtown Rockville to celebrate with the other three Nats fans. We were hooting and hollering, and then it turned into a riot donnybrook pathetic display.
We got all boisterous and flipped over a cop car motorcycle moped. Then we stared lighting huge bonfires sparklers. Fucking good times. I didn't make it home until 11:15, so I was dog tired. No energy for punching the keyboard at all yesterday.

But, I'm back, and today I present to you three Gifs. Two of Mikey Mo*, and one of El-Drew-K. 

(*Bill Simmons-esque footnote! I grew up playing a lot of baseball, and even played in some adult leagues until my shoulder finally gave out. (I play softball occasionally, but it's just not the same without the take-out slides, destroying catchers, and popping greenies and roids.) With this baseball playing, I collected, and used, baseball lingo over the years. "Hitterish" wasn't anything new, but I thoroughly enjoyed it being brought back. What's my point? Well, I'm kicking myself for not using "Mikey Mo" before The Contract® mentioned it. I mean, God dammit, I used "Mikey Mac" for Mike MacDougal, and even "Mikey Rizz" for Mike Rizzo back in '09. How, then, could Werth beat me to something so obvious? Maybe I'm losing it in my old age. Let's see if Jayson can keep up w/the nicknames when he's as old as I am, though. Shiiiit, his nickname for the new center fielder Eury Perez is gonna be "Eury Perez" when he gets to be my age in a couple years.)

Okay, first gif. I noticed last night that Mikey was repeating a motion before stepping into the batters box. It's just to remind him of something in his swing, but hell if it don't look like he's getting down to "Take On Me" like the rest of us.

 

The other two gifs are after the jump, as I don't want anyone's computer locking up loading the gifs from the front page. I mean, I may act like I don't care about you guys, but in truth... I do.

Ahhh.... /sniffles. GROUP HUG, MOTHERTRUCKERS!!!

Can you slow down a tad, Espi?

Christ on a pogo stick, Espi... can you regress just a tad so you don't dominate this blog so much? I'm tempted to rename it "Danny Espinosa (as viewed from Section 138, my couch, my local bar, and on MLB Network highlights)." Save some glory for the rest of the team, homie!
So, I was watching last night's game with great enjoyment as Werth and The Shark did some yard work in the 1st inning, Morse doubled in the 4th and was driven in by Danny Espinosa, and Laynce Nyix homered in the 6th. Unfortunately, the Cardinals scored in the 8th and the 9th to tie the game up and send in into extra innings. The bottom of the 10th unfolded like the most beautiful... folded thingie ever. Zim singled, Morse then got hit by Fernando Salas (At which point I immediately picked up my phone and called the visitor's clubhouse. I got forwarded to the voice mail for Fernando's locker (What, you didn't know that each locker is wired up to the phone system and has its own voice mail? Guys, this here is the big leagues, alright? The clubhouses at Nats Park are first class. High quality all the way. No bush-league antics here. Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.), and left Salas the following message. "If you wanna go after an athlete... one of MY athletes... that's garbage!  Attacking an athlete... Are you kidding me? Come after me! I'm a man! I'm (in a few years...) forty! Makes me wanna puke." I haven't received a call back from Salas yet, but I'm assuming that's because he's scared of me, and wants to let me cool off a tad so I don't beat him up. Can't say i blame him, though. I got fists like grenades. One punch, and POW, bitches! /puts on Affliction shirt and get's ready to head to the gym.

So, where were we? Oh yeah, bottom of the 10th, Zim on 2nd, Morse on 1st, and up steps Danny Espinosa. Do I really need to explain what happens next? Bing, pow, boom, bing. Home run. Game's over. Let's go get a taco. Now, I swear to you, I had no intentions of making a video out of it today, I've made a shit-ton of those, and I don't want that to be the norm on this here blog. But... I had David Huzzard call me out in front of all of the Twitters.

 
Well, David, here it is. Just for you. I hope you cry watching it, cause I cried making it. 

Ahhh.. The sweet, sweet sounds of Bette Midler. (Sniffle) Now, if you can't get that song out of your head, you know who to blame.
Oh, almost forgot... After last night's win, here are today's NL East standings:

 

Hooray! Now no one can say that lame "First in war, first in peace, last in the National League East" line. That really grinded my gears. Anyway, you know what that means...

...Time for everyone to HOP ABOARD! BEEP, BEEP, BITCHES, GET OUT DA WAY!

NEXT STOP, THIRD PLACE, AND WE AIN'T STOPPING!

(Mostly because the driver is high on cat nip and drunk on... well... alcohol. Look, I hate being the enabler, but you should see the scene at night when I try and go upstairs to bed. He whines, and gives me kitty cat eyes while meowing, "But I can't get to sleep without it, Gavin! Please!? Just add some bourbon to my water dish. Just half a cup! I swear, last time!" And stupid me, I always act like it's the last time, too. So, while you hop on his bus, please remember to buckle up, and call your loved ones. Let them know you love them. Oh, and he takes that white line up front int he aisle by him very seriously. If anyone crosses it, he slams on the brakes and crash, they go right out the window.)

Another Danny Espinosa Video?

Yes, this is another Danny Espinosa video. It may also be the shortest highlight video of all time, as well. Why is it so short? Because I am a no-talent hack, and a lazy one at that. I had grandiose ideas for this video, but once I started, I realized how much work it would be, so I acted like LeBron James and just said, "Screw it, me done." (A LeBron James joke! Not only am I multi-sport knowledgeable, but I'm also un-original, as every person on planet Earth has already made a LeBron joke.)

Yay. I didn't waste a lot of your time today! (Be sure to pay me back with... well, how bout money? I accept PayPal.) In case you weren't sure what you just witnessed, it was an 8 second clip with sound effects from a 1985 video game*. Now, how many Nats blogs give you that kind of quality content? (The answer: just this one, baby!)

Now, if the Nats can actually sweep the Cardinals, I may just make a 16 second clip with Zelda* or Metroid* sound effects! Cross your toeses, people!

(*Quiet, you! I know these games may be dated but you're lucky I didn't make you suffer through some Intellivision game sound effects. I remember Burger Time well, and if you guys start complaining, I may have to make a video of Livan walking from the mound to the dugout, all the while having his steps sound just like that pudgy chef walking across lettuce, buns, and burgers. I timed Livan once, and it took him 2 minutes and 17 seconds to travel those 100 feet. Is that what you want?!)

ZNN is the only network worth watching, and Clipp still has it.

On this busy Monday, I'mma do this quick style. Bullet points please, Blogger.

• This Nats offense was excruciating to watch, averaging 2.25 runs/game during this 4 game set in San Diego. These guys scored less than the Chess Club on prom night.
• Jordan Zimmermann is legit. Like, legit legit. He's like Otto Man. If you see him, he's taking your ass to school.
• Tyler Clippard continues to just dominate fools. His inning total is high, so there's a little bit of concern about overuse, but for right now, he's dealing. His high fastball is such a thing of beauty, that shit belongs in The Louvre. (Although if you ask the hitters, they say it's so filthy, it belongs in Penthouse. (Is Penthouse still relevant? I have no idea, so discuss porn in the comments, if you like.))

Two other quick things, first is a gif from Saturday night. I title it: Uber prospect Anothony Rizzo meets uber bullpen dude Tyler Clippard.

Eat dirt, pal. Have a seat, lunch meat. You missed that Clipp high fastball like Karen Carpenter missed breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

And second, I haven't pimped my shirts in a while, but I wanted to point out that I modified two of my shirts. The ZNN shirts are now available with his number 27 in Nats numbering style on the back for $20.90.
The other Zimmerman(n) (Ryan) had his shirt modified, as well. I pulled the font from the front of the shirt, and added his 11 to the back. The original is still available. This shirt also runs $20.90. Peep the pics below. Clicking on the images will take you to the shop. My kid just turned one-years-old, people. She's gonna need me to start buying her real clothes now, instead of just wrapping her in Safeway bags.

Suspensions! Oh, boy!

Well, the discipline for last Sunday's battle in Arizona came out, and it's a joke. Joe Garagiola, Jr. (who is the senior vice president of standards and on-field operations for MLB) gave Jason Marquis a 5 game sit down, Esmerlin Vazsquez a 3 game benching, and both managers a one game suspension.
I overreacted on Twitter yesterday and screamed:

"Marquis gets 5 games, but Vasquez only 3? Well, shouldn't be a surprise as the man handing out the sentence was the GODDAMN AZ GM at 1 point"

Well, I was quickly put in my place by Dave over at Nats News Network, as he kindly reminded me that Jason (being a starting pitcher) will only miss one game, as he only starts every fifth game, whereas Vasquez is a reliever, and will miss three actual games. I took my punishment like a man*, and sulked away from the Internet for a bit. I saw my wife later in the day and she said, "Why so down, clown?" So, I told her about my Twitter overreaction, and how I was chided for it, and she jumped into her Twitter-mobile to throw this out to her 13 followers, all in my defense.

"But wait, Marquis is not only a starter (pitching every 5th), he is also a pinch runner and a pinch hitter."

Vindication! Exoneration! Victory is mine! See that, Garagiola? Your punishment is unjust, dammit! You... You... (Shit... I don't know what physical features of yours to make fun of as a Google image search for you turns up, like, 60 gazillion different people. I mean... Jesus... I had no idea that name was so damn common. Oh, lookie... someone named Joe Garagiola, Jr. looks just like Andre Ethier. And Josh Hamilton. And... a young Asian man.)

Ah, screw it. I don't need to make fun of your physical appearance, because I can make fun of your lazy approach to your job. See, I got a hold of the tape that was sent to the League office, the very same one you used to justify your Marquis five game suspension.And while I can see how B.J. Justin Upton convinced you he was hurt (thanks to the home plate umpire wearing a microphone, and that audio added to the TV feed), I can also tell you were a lazy malazy chore-shirker. Oh yeah, Joe... I can tell that you only watched the beginning of the tape. Now, on my blog, I will out you for the sloth that you are! I present to the world... The video tape that I had to smuggle out of the MLB offices, with my very life at stake.... BEHOLD!

Damn, Joe. I'm surprised you even made it to work to lazily look at the tape. I would've imagined you only drove 1/3 of the way to the office, only to turn back. Do you dress yourself with that same attitude as well? Are you wearing one only one sock, with a half-buttoned dress shirt and no pants? I bet you are, you pant-less son of a bitch!

*I in no way took my chiding like a man. Instead, I replied to Dave with, "Valid point. I will continue w/my stance that Joe Garagiola, Jr. is both an idiot & a stupid doo-doo head, however." Hey, if there's one thing I can say I'm vigilant about, it's staying immature. Without my child-like outlook on life, I would've killed Ray King, Rob Dibble, Garrett Mock, Felipe Lopez...
Shit... mentioning these names again makes me want tO....

ARGH! GAVIN ANGRY! GAVIN SMASH! GAVIN GET IN CAR TO DRIVE TO RAY KING'S HOUSE! GAVIN NOW AT RAY KING'S HOUSE! GAVIN FIND RAY KING! GAVIN SAY, "I KILL YOU, RAY KING. BEG FOR MERCY, RA...oh, hi, Ray. That's a juicy looking burger you're eating, Ray. Can I have one? Thanks." /Nom Nom "Umm, boy... that was a tasty burger. Now... PREPARE TO DIE!" GAVIN SMASH AND MAIM AND KILL! ON TO FELIPE LOPEZ' HOUSE NOW...

I needed an IV after Sunday's game.

Jesus, that game had more ups and downs than Edgar Allan Poe. (You see, cause he was bi-polar and was prone to mood swings... You didn't know Poe was bi-polar? Crap... how about... Kurt Cobain? Cool? Cool.)

Jesus, that game had more ups and downs than Kurt Cobain.
I was so exhausted that I needed to get an IV drip in the living room after the game. (Before 2006 I would've popped a couple greenies, but since MLB made them illegal in that year, I've stopped taking them. You think I'mma risk my blogging career by testing positive? Shiiiiiiit, son.)

I don't need to re-hash the game, as you can find the write ups here, here, here, and here. I do want to focus on three things, though.

First - the ejection of Jason Marquis. With one out and a runner on first, in a one run game, Marquis threw a sinker inside that just kept moving inside and ended up hitting B.J. Justin Upton. (Upton put on an award-worthy acting performance when he flopped to the ground "writhing" in pain, only to hop to his feet moments later and run to first base, but that's another post in itself.) It was an obvious non-intentional HBP, but the umpire decided he could see into Marquis' brain and noticed there was intent. So he chucked Marquis (and Riggles) out of the game. You can see the video here, but I just wanted to transcribe Ray Knight's color commentary on the situation. It was...

"Oh that's ridiculous. Good gracious alive the dad-gum score of the game is one zip. You seriously think he's trying to hit somebody there? Are you flipping serious? That's ridiculous. I don't care if he's been hit 12 times, the score of the ball game is one to nothing, there's no way a starting pitcher is gonna hit somebody in retaliation.
...
You're not gonna hit somebody in a game situation like that. If you're gonna hit him, you're gonna hit
him a week later, a month later, the next time you play. That's stupid. You've GOT to be kidding."

..epic? Ray was hotter than a June bug, I tell ya! Hoo-boy!

Second - Danny Espinosa getting plunked. Video of this dastardly deed can be found here, but this is all you need to know about it: 1) Espi was this goddamn close to performing the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique on all them Diamondback motherfuckers. And 2) The MASN feed had a great shot of the dugout railing as Espi was being convinced to spare the Diamondback's slithery lives. I now present to you, what I title as...

IS LIVO TIME, MOTHERBITCHES!!!!!

(Titled that because that's what I imagine Livan is screaming to himself as he's vaulting the railing.)

Thirdly - Let's wrap this up with The Rhino, Vamos Ramos, not only showing up the D-Backs, but making sure they knew he was doing it, as well. After Espinosa was plunked, Ramos came up and hit a 3 run bomb. He circled the bases rather slowly,* but that could have been due to him being hobbled by a bad shin, caused by a foul ball striking him there earlier in the game. When asked if he ran slower than usual due to the fact that he was injured, Wilson manned the fuck up, and said that no, the slow trot was to prove a point - that "I wanted to see those guys angry."

He's guaranteed a fastball in the ribs the next time the Diamonbacks and Nats play, but he's also guaranteed an icy cold cerveza, and my daughter's hand in marriage, cause that right there is some GROWN-ASS-MAN action.

*There's a guy out there that actually times all the home run trots around the league. He hasn't updated Sunday's game yet, but I clocked it (via the video) at 28.41 seconds. Wilson's average trot the three previous time the guy has clocked him? 23.46 seconds. Ramos let the D-Backs soak in his awesome presence an extra 5 seconds. That, my friends, is so charitable and noble of him, as they are all better men for being exposed to his golden fucking glow. Maybe some of them even gained an ability they lacked before last night - the power to impregnate females.

Danny Espinosa likes to hit the long ball.

On Monday, Danny Espinosa homered off of Roy Halladay, which should have been more than enough for any regular Major Leaguer. But, Daniel is no ordinary Major Leaguer, so he followed that up by homering off Cliff Lee the following day, and not just once, but twice. It was an Ruthian Espinosian effort by our dirt baggy little second baseman, and proved that Danny scoffs at your large contracts, your large reputations, and your large Cy Young awards. (Are they large, actually? Shit if I know. You think I have one sitting in my living room, or something?)
The second of the homers off of Lee was just a punishing shot to center that made its way up into the Red Porch. I hear the ball ended up in the Red Porch bar, actually, and asked for a beer. When asked for ID, the ball replied, "Bitch, Danny Espinosa sent me up here, and you gonna hassle me for an ID? Shit, I got half a mind to go tell Danny that you up here harassing me.You want me to do that, Mr. Bartender? You want me to go bug Danny?"

..............................


(Okay, you caught me. That didn't really happen. What gave it away? Was it that I had the ball ask for a beer? It was, wasn't it... I knew I should've had it ask for a vodka and cranberry. Dammit.)

On to the video tape! What you have here is Danny's second home run. As always, I can never figure out why MASN has the dugout microphones muted, so I turned them up to hear what a Danny at bat and congratulatory dugout visit sound like.

Whoa. Cool. Danny's helmet "bongs" if you bang it? Well, looks like I know what I'm getting arrested for the next time I'm at the park.

Mr. Ivan Rodriguez does the impossible.

In case you missed it this weekend, Ivan Rodriguez received awesome news on Saturday. I think it's kind of odd that they decided to deliver the news to him via an ear piece in the middle of a play during the 9th inning, but they delivered the news, none-the-less.

Judging from his reaction, the only logical explanation has to be that he was just given the news that his science experiments that he has been working on in his spare time resulted in him CURING CANCER, right?!

Wait... what? He just tagged a guy out in a play at the plate? He wasn't actually receiving congratulations from Barack Obama on his wining the election for the President of Puerto Rico?

Geez... Imagine his reaction if something that awesome did happen.

(The play at the plate can be seen here. Seriously, though, it made me smile when Pudge did that. Dude got all kid like. I half expected him to scream, "Have a seat, lunch meat!" at the runner, then run into the dugout squealing, then falling down and having a huge giggle fit, which would lead to him peeing his pants.

What? You guys didn't pee your pants when you got real happy?
 
Well... this is awkward...)

Forgive me, Jordan, for I am late with this.

Happy (belated) birthday, Jordan Zimmermann! While I may be late in wishing him good cheer, I saw John McLaren celebrating with him on Monday, his actual birthday.

My, my. That is one generously sized ice cream cone, Johnnie. Good thing ZNN is 6' 2" and 220 lbs, or else that might be too much strawberry goodness for him to handle. Can you imagine Kansas City Royals pitcher Tim Collins (listed as a generous 5' 7") trying to tackle that cone?

That poor kid is gonna be eating that cone for days. I sure do hope he isn't lactose intolerant.

So, happy 25th, Jordan. My present will be in the mail soon. Be neither alarmed at the abundance of holes punched in the outside of the box, nor the muffled cries coming from inside it. You see, my body requires air to breathe, and I'm claustrophobic.

Friday = Dump day.

Do I have any new ideas for you all today? Nope. Know what that means? It means I'm just going to dump some of my Twitter stuff from this week in this here post, as well as a video I've been hanging onto for a week. Enjoy, and smooches!

First up: Happy birthday, Jayson Werth. Your present to me? A squiggly red line under your first name every single time I type it. My gift to you? This picture. (I think I'm getting ripped off here, to be honest.)

I always told myself I was going to make a video of Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina" where the lyrics were changed to say "Roger Bern Adina." I never did, however, mostly because I'm lazy. So, imagine how damn happy I was when the opportunity presented itself by the Nats placing a guy named Cole on the active roster. (Hint: It was somewhere between happy and pretty happy.)
 

And two quick videos to round out the post. The first is a follow up the the Roger Bernadina "Superman" video that I made recently. That video was pretty easy to make, and only required five or so splices of the music. Well, I always wanted to make a highlight scored to Also Sprach Zarathustra, and I had the opportunity a few weeks back when Danny Espinosa was shown on MASN's X-Mo making an incredible turn on a double play. Problem is, I couldn't find the video for it. Well, I decided to settle this week and use his home run from Monday's Pitt game. I had to make quite a few splices, and slow the video way down to get it to work, though, and because of that I wasn't real happy with it. So, I just threw it up on Twitter cause I didn't think it was blog-worthy. Well, it may not be blog-worthy on it's own, but on DUMP DAY? Hell yeah. Enjoy!

Danny Espinosa Spits Zarathustra from Section 138 on Vimeo.

Oh, Daniel. You so epic.

And, finally, a few weeks back I noticed this exchange in the dugout between Jayson Werth and Michael Morse. It's not exactly on the level of the Willingham/Dunn handshake deal of 2009, but I still found it humorous. And if I find it humorous, dammit, I'm gonna make you sit through it.

Michael Morse and Jayson Werth be some gunslingers. from Section 138 on Vimeo.

Bang-bang!

There you go. A hodgepodge post for you, yet a post none-the-less. That ought-ta keep you folks from emailing me saying, "need a new post, dammit." (Oh, and to that one person that actually does send me those emails - C'mon, Mom. I'm busy sometimes. Why don't you just pick up the phone and call me instead of cursing me out in e-mails? /SNIFF)

It's the BlOrioles (HAHAHAHA!!1!!) this weekend. How bout a sweep, boys? (Ah, screw it - how bout just one fucking run, boys?)

The easiest video I ever made.

HI!

Don't know if you all heard, but Roger Bernadina made good catch Friday night. Like... good, good! So good, that I forget proper English when talking about it. I turn into caveman who only say, "Wowsers!"

I try make video that show how good Shark Man be, but all I manage to do is marry music to video, as I stunned stupid by play.

Bernadina? Super Shark! from Section 138 on Vimeo.

Roger Bernadina patrols the outfield like a shark after its prey. The ball is Roger's prey, and it cannot escape.

Me think music go good with diving man. Fit scene well. You got problem with me making such simple movie? Too bad. As meanest man on planet once say to me, "Nanny nanny boo boo. Stick your head in doo doo!"

(I also want make mention of awesome (whoops, or is that JAWESOME) shirt that for sale by awesome t shirt person. Buy now, dum dums. It make you cool when wear it. Just click picture. C'mon... my car needs new stones up front. Anytime it rain, stones slip. Make for not safe driving.)

¿Señor Ciento? ¡Mucho Fuego!

With this post title, I'm shooting for the biggest butchering of a language ever. To all Spanish speaking folks out there, I'm deeply sorry. For everyone else, feel free to pretend like the title says, "Mr. 100? On Fire!"
Mr. 100[MPH], of course, is Drew Storen, aka "Señor Ciento." Aka "El Drew K." Aka "The Bearded Assassin."
He threw one inning last night, and was the pitcher of record for the top of the 11th inning, so he got the win. The kid has been an absolute beast as of late, and it just so happens he's had some man fur on his mug as of late, as well. I did some little no research, and guesstimated his beard birth to be around April 15th, or 12 games ago. His stats since then? Peep these, yo:

In this incredible run he hasn't allowed a run. Not an earned run, but a run, period. He's struck out nine, walked only two, and has allowed only seven hits, which gives him a WHIP of 0.675. Drew is just unconscious right now, and has grabbed a hold of that closer role so tight that he had to give it CPR at least four separate times. (See, cause he choked it till it passed out... cause he grabbed the closer role... grabbed... choked. GAH, forget it.)

So, without further ado, allow me to steal the gimmick of one of my favorite Nats tumblrs out there (sweetpearacer's Washington NationLOLs) with this statement that Drew gave me last night.

I, for one, welcome our new bearded overlord.*

*I also just used the most overused meme outside of Chuck Norris Facts. All I'm missing is a reference to the other Matt Groening sho- All glory to the HYPNO-DREW!

(Holy frijole, did I just mail this shit in, or did I just mail this shit in, AMIRITE?)

Hooray, Hammer Hands!

[NOTE: I composed this on Tuesday, May 10th, but didn't post it until Wednesday, May 11th. All "yesterdays" should read as "day-before-yesterdays." What? I'm lazy, and I take two days to post, what can I say?]

When my wife asked about a Nats outfielder a few years back, I told her he didn't have a great bat, but he played very good defense. She then said, "What's his name?"
"Ryan Langerhans," was my reply.
"Oh, so that's why he's good defensively. He has longer hands than others."
Skip to a few years later, and Joel Hanrahan is moved to the bullpen. He turns out to be a really fan friendly guy, and always had a smile and a wave for us at games. Somehow, playing off the Langerhans/Longer Hands thing, I did what I always do... drag things out way too far until they no longer resemble anything that is even remotely funny/charming/chuckle-worthy, etc. Yes, I actually tried to play "Hanrahan" into "Hammer Hands." (Ah, this reeks of deja vu, as I can see every single person reading this scrunching up their foreheads and mouthing, "Hammer Hands? What the fuck...??") You see, he threw super hard, so I tried to play his name into something witty about his hands, like my wife did with Ryan's name years earlier, hence "Hammer Hands."
Well, when I excitedly yelled it to Joel, it went over as well as... well... Ryan Church in Israel. But, dammit, I made it up, and I was gonna stick with it. To this very day, I always call Joel Hanrahan "Joel Hammer Hands."
Do I have a point here? You best believe I do. You see, Joel won the Pittsburgh Pirates closer gig this year, and I always make a point to check in on him and how he's doing. So, imagine my delight when MLB network cut to their game last night versus the Dodgers. Joel was in for the 9th, a save situation. He ended up with the save after their third baseman, Pedro Alvarez, made a great diving stop and throw to first for the third out. I then noticed that Pedro's hat looked weird.

Yeah... dude wears his ears inside his hat. Now, I thought it was odd, and shook my head while saying something to myself about "kids" and "get of my lawn," but I wanted to see if I was in the minority on this. So... I took the opportunity to call the visitors clubhouse in Atlanta today to see if it was something baseball kids (Alvarez is 24) were doing, and if I should just shrug it off and accept it. Well, who was the first person to pick up?
 

Yup, it was good ol' Matty Stairs. So I dove right in there. "Matt," I said, "Have you seen th..."
"It's Mr. Stairs."
"What?"
"Mr. Stairs. You should show some respect for your elders, and call me Mr. Stairs."
"But, I'm 35-years-..."
"Do I look like I give a shit, son? 35? I got bats older than that."
"Well, maybe if you swung them during your plate appearances, you might make contact with the ball, and wear your bats out sooner."
"Oh, you're a God damn funny man, huh? How would you like it if I rap you upside your skull with one of my Louisville Sluggers you were just making fun of? Huh, Buster Brown?"
"I wouldn't like that at all, Sir."
"Good. Hang on a second, whipper-snapper."
At this point his voice got muffled as it sounded like he was putting his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. I couldn't make out the entire conversation, but it sounded something like: "Don't you dare turn off NCIS, you no respect having punk. What? For shit's sake, LaRoche... don't make me put you over my knee and whoop you like the bratty snot-nosed kid you are. Do I make myself clear, boy? Good, now go get me my prune juice and leave the T.V. the fuck alone. CBS has quality programming!"
"Alright, what the hell did you want again?" he asked.
"Well, Mr. Stairs, have you seen Pedro Alvarez in Pittsburgh? If so, do you have any comment on how he wears his hat?"
"Pedro who now? No, don't know him. Hang on one second as I get one of the kids around here to pull up a picture of him on that portable picture machines they all have these days."
The phone gets muffled a bit again, but I can hear the majority of the conversation, and it went a little something like this: "Hey, Stankiel! Yeah, you, Ricky. You got one of those i paddle thingies on you? What? Okay, okay... whatever... iPad/i paddle. Pull up a picture of that Alvarez kid on the Pirates. You got it? Good, lemme see that picture now, son... HOLY HELL!"
Matt's voice came back on the line with a terse "You still there, kid?"
"Yes, sir... Still here, Mr. Stairs."
"Listen, thanks for bringing this to my attention. Now, I need to book a  flight to Pittsburgh ASAP. Gotta go."
"You're going to Pittsburgh right this instant? Over how a kid wears his hat?"
"No, son. Shoot, I don't care how the youngsters wear their stuff.  I've become numb over the years with all their backwards hats, eye black, flat brims, and pajama pants. No, I just remembered that I need to go to Pittsburgh to see my accountant. My Social Security payments are about to kick in, and I wanna make sure he's got my first payment for my R.V. all ready to go."
---CLICK---

So, Mr. Worley... Tell me more about yourself.

So, the Nats lost to this dude last night.

 Which is cool. He's embracing the goggles, just like Tyler Clippard. And, hey, he seems to be a cool gu.... jumping Jehosaphat on Jesus' pogostick! What is this monstrosity of a nickname he has for himself on his glove!?

Vanimal? VANIMAL!?!

Christ. I can just feel how he talks to women at bars after the games.

 "Hey, hey, pretty lady! What say you and the Vanimal here [gives a double gun w/clicking sounds to himself] hop in the Van-mobile and get on over to Casa de Vanster? If you play your cards right, you can even see what's in Vance's pantses. YEAH-HEH!"

Ugh. I need to go take a shower to get that slime off of me. Blech!

Jayson Werth's reception was... irritating to my 4th grade teacher.

So, Jayson Werth made his return to Philly yesterday for the first time since being shown the door. Many people wondered how his reception would go... Would he be booed? Cheered? A mix of both? So, what was the answer?

Well, he was welcomed with horrible, teacher-assassinating, language-butchering, God awful grammar.

I'd like to address those sign folks for a minute. Guys, here are two links for proper comma usage. The first is a link to an English Basics worksheet designed for elementary school children. I'll show the rule here, but you may want to click on the link to learn other proper usages for the comma.

Commas in Direct Address

 

Use a comma to separate the name of someone who is being addressed from the message.

Examples:

Karen, you are my favorite cousin.

I made this soup for you, Mom.

The second is a link to the book English Grammar for DUMMIES. In particular, it's to the section called "Placing Proper Punctuation." I'm going to, again, post the rule here, as I've looked up the history of the book at all the Philly libraries, and no copies have ever been checked out. Ever.

Commas: In direct address, use commas to separate the name from the rest of the sentence.

Read more: http://www.dummies.com/how-to/content/placing-proper-punctuation0.html#ixzz1LOXffyLJ

So, after this brief tutorial, allow me to correctly punctuate your signage.

There you go, guys. The tutelage was my treat. I love helping the needy, after all.

But my favorite moment of the entire Werth return certainly had to be the following animated gif I made of a mother scolding her son for daring to boo the man that is Jayson Werth.

Yay! Some families in CBP actually have good values! It's obvious they were bussed in from Cherry Hill, NJ.

The day that Tyler Clippard stomped on my heart.

Last Sunday's game started great. I had a good BBQ sandwich at the Red Loft, accompanied by a Dogfish Head Raison D'Etre to wash it down with. (What?? Are you calling me a beer snob? It was the same price as everything else! Let's see, should I take the Miller Lite for $8 or the delicious mahogany Belgian-style brown ale brewed with beet sugar, raisins, and Belgian-style yeas... okay, okay. You got me. I do love me some Dogfish Head, but it was the exact same $8, folks. It's a no brainer.) We then wandered around a bit, and even ran into Ben Goessling from MASN. I took that time to look like an idiot by screaming, "Hey, Ben! Embrace the shark!" while holding my hand on my head like a dorsal fin. To Ben's credit, he didn't ask to have me removed from the premises. Instead, he just shook his head and said, "I just don't understand where it comes from."* I guess it's gonna take Roger Bernadina going up to him during locker room interviews and biting a chunk out of his torso to get him on board. Let's see if we can get this done folks. (I'm assuming Tyler and Terry over at the official Sharkadina blog can maybe take the place of Roger, since he's in Syracuse? Someone get them on the horn stat, and make it happen. Just be prepared to supply Goessling's blood type to the EMTs.)
We (myself, my wife, my daughter, and my friend) then settled down in our usual seats to watch a great game. And what a great game it was. Well, except for this part... This was not great.

Tyler, Tyler, Tyler. You've taken the hearts from all us "Peaches" fans and stomped on them. You ripped them from our chests, crystallized them, and shattered them into millions of itty-bitty pieces with a Daniel-Son style crane kick. The millions, hundreds, tens of us "Peaches" fans will not relinquish our pursuit of getting you to change your music back, though! Did you think we'd forget about January, Tyler? Did you forget about January, Tyler? Well then, allow me to refresh your memory. Back then, Drew Storen linked to a poll that allowed fans to vote on your walk-up (Walk-out? Warm-up? Entrance?) music. It gave us two choices... your (then) current "Peaches" and your (now) current "Ready or something something blah blah." This is how the vote ended, sir.

(Excuse me while I channel my inner Walter Sobchak for a second...)

Has the whole world gone crazy? Am I the only one around here who gives a shit about the rules?!  

Sigh. I guess Tyler doesn't, as 62% of folks voted to keep "Peaches." If anyone would like to join me on Sunday, May 15th, I'll be hurling fully loaded peach baskets into the bullpen towards Clipp. Please bring copious amounts of alcohol, money, and Kleenex. I'll need them to work up the courage, bail myself out of jail, and sop up my tears as I'm being dragged handcuffed from the stadium crying out, "Why, Tyler! Why?!?! Peaches was our jam, man!!! I thought we had a connection!"

Other than that one teeny incident (that I'm obviously not dwelling on, nor obsessed with), the game was grand. We saw a great pitching performance from ZNN and the bullpen that ended in a curly W. I also got to see Drew Storen's fur face in person, and witnessed Todd Coffey performing the shoe-shine Sunday routine. Allow me to rip-off Natsgrl1's line here by saying, "I'm surprised he can bend over that far." 


Now, onto Philly for a three game set. Wish the boys well. We certainly don't want them coming out of the series with any nasty diseases those Philly fans carry. (Oh, wins would be welcomed, too, of course, but I'm just hoping no players lose their goddamn life to the bubonic plague that's known to circulate CBP.)

* At least I think that's what Ben says. His hair is absolutely mesmerizing in person and I kind of got drawn into it, blocking out my other senses.

Sorry, Espi and.... ONE HUNDRED!?!

Okay. First, I have a confession to make. I changed my computer's wallpaper to this on Monday.

Well, since then Danny Espinosa's gone 0 for 13 with 4 strikeouts and no RBI. So, to get Espi back on track (and to pay homage to that absoloute shit show of a performance by Sean Burnett in the 9th inning last night) I'm going back to the old wallpaper.

 

Excellent. I feel a gazillion times better now. I really don't want to talk too much about last night's game, mostly because I think Drew should have been out to start the 9th inning... but I will say this. I have a hunch... a very large hunch... That Drew was steaming in the pen about not getting his name called. The steam continued to boil as he saw Burnett blow up. He gets his name called, and what does he do?

He just strikes out David Wright to end the shamockery. Oh, yeah, he also hit 100 MPH according to the MASN gun. The radio guys said he hit 100 on two separate guns, as well (hat tip to Pam Storen for that, btw).

Did he really throw that hard? Meh, who really cares. The point is this:

Drew is the kind of guy that wants that ball in the pressure situation, and he can ramp his stuff up to meet, or exceed the needs of that situation. You need a heater, located up in the zone, with some extra cheese on that? Done.

Coffey shakes and Espi obliterates.

So, yeah, not sure what my obsession with animated gifs lately has been about, but I'm throwing a couple more in this post, too, along with two videos. I'm hiding them behind a page bump, though, cause I'm cool like that I just figured out how to do it.
The first video is something I posted on Twitter, but thought I'd share with you, the non-Twittering folks. It's of our plump and cardio-rich reliever, Todd Coffey. He came into Monday night's game with two runners on, and two outs. He ended up getting a pretty big strike out, and definitely seemed happy about it. See this SUPER PROFESSIONAL video to learn more about his happiness. (Video was filmed off the TV with my camera. Yup, I'm ghetto like that. I also appear to have the early stages of Parkinson's Disease... or maybe I was just really, really nervous getting the images of Todd Fuckin' Coffey on video...)

I made a couple animated gifs from that video, and they're at the end of this post. (If you're reading from the front page, be sure to click "read more" at the bottom.)
Next up is a quick clip from last night's game, and it is (again) about the absolute cannon that is attached to Danny Espinosa's right shoulder. While he doesn't throw the guy out, he makes it way closer than it had any business being. And, yes, I had to film this off the TV as well. If you go to MLB videos, they only show the NY feed, which didn't want to frighten Mets fans with the fact that they have to go up against this arm so many times in the future doesn't show the throw.

Sure do wish that arm of his was around in the days of Vietnam... Could'a used that artillery piece to help John Rambo and Colonel James Braddock free some of our boys a little earlier.
Also (hey, I'm getting serious for a second, so pipe down, dammit), I'm getting a little frustrated with Ian Desmond at shortstop. I love the guy, and his bat would play well for a second baseman. I also think that the shorter throw, and the longer time he can hold the ball would decrease his errors drastically. Now, the only question I have is if his psyche can handle it. He's been touted since way back when Jimmy Bowden compared him to Derek Jeter, and the superlatives didn't stop on his continued rise to the Majors. Could he handle a shift to second? They say he's a clubhouse leader, and that he is mentally strong, but I fear having him needing to be traded. Who would play second, then? Prospect wise, Lombardozzi, Hague, and Kobernus are still unknowns. And, lest we forget, the great Pete Orr ain't walking through that door any time again.
Okay, animated gifs of the Coffey Shuffle? If you said, "Yes, please!" than you're in luck. If you said, "Nope." then... what the hell are you doing at my blog? I don't exactly cater to anything more than photoshops, crappy videos, gifs, and shitty writing. Now then... ON WITH THE JIGGLING!