Jim Riggleman given the full-time manager job.

Yes, folks, Jimmie Riggs just had the interim tag pulled off his title. Your manager of the Washington Nationals for 2010 and... well... beyond is the local boy made good that took over last year for Tony Robbins Manny Acta part way through the season. I found out last night and gave GM Mike Rizzo a call to ask a few questions. The following is a transcript of the conversation*.

Me: Mike, thanks for taking a few minutes of your time, I appreciate it.

Rizzo: No problem. Happy to do it. I'm actually at dinner, though, so we need to make it brief.

Me: Will do. Actually, I guess I'll combine two questions into one to get this done twice as fast. First, what did you order, and second, why Jim Riggleman over the other candidates?

Rizzo: Well, I was wanting something top shelf, really tasty and good, but with the situation being what it is I settled for something from the rail. You know, house stuff.

Me: Can you expand on that?

Rizzo: Sure, sure. I really wanted a scrumptious 12 oz filet with a delicious Caymus Special Selection Cabernet Sauvignon . Then, I figured that with me having a cold and no taste or smell, it wouldn't make any sense right now. So I went with the hamburger and a bottle of Ernest and Julio Gallo.

Me: I see, and what about the answer to second question, the hiring of Jim Riggleman?

Rizzo: Uh, I was talking about Jim.

Me: Of course you were. Right. Sorry. So what did you end up ordering to eat, then?

Rizzo: I just had a mixed greens salad with chicken.

Me: Sounds delicious. Any concern about Riggleman and him handling such a young pitching staff? Strasburg and Zimmermann in particular?

Rizzo: No, not at all, why would you ask?

Me: Well, according to Keith Law, when Riggleman was managing the Cubs in 1998, he had then 21 year old Kerry Wood exceed 120 pitches in eight out of his 26 starts. Also, in start number 25, Riggleman had Wood throw 133 pitches.

Rizzo: ....

Me: You there, Mike?

Rizzo: /Muffled yelling
"Outta my way, tubby, I need to undo a horrible wrong!"

"But, sir... you haven't paid your bill!"

"Fuck your bill, pal, he's gonna break my poor Strasburg in half!"
/CLICK


*Real/dream, who knows? I confuse reality with make-believe often.

Ryan Zimmerman wins 2009 Gold Glove Award.

Yay, Zimmy! Let's hope it doesn't weigh you down too much and take away your range. Looks good on ya, kid.

So... about that AFL squad...

Well, I was all set to see two Nats prospects play in the AFL Rising Stars Game last Saturday. Then, word came out that Stephen Strasburg was pulled from the start because of a neck injury. Given that he's now a National, and injuries only prove horribly horrible, I decided to dig into the issue, and see what the real deal was. I traveled to Arizona (In my mind! Beat that, Uri Geller!) and back in time (Take that, Doc Brown!) to see the throwing session that caused Stras the injury. I must warn you... if you have small children reading this blog, you may want to have them turn away. And you may want to reconsider your parenting model. I'm not sure I would subject my kid to "shit goddamn" as often as it is uttered here. Anyway... onto the film...

Gah! SHIT GODDAMN! But hey, I hear this Strasburg kid is tough, so maybe he can just rub some dirt on it and he'll be okay.

But, it wasn't all bad for the Nats in the Future Stars game. My bestest buddy, Drew Storen, made an appearance. It's justtoo bad the home plate umpire decided not to show up, though. Drew came into the game in the bottom of the 8th with his squad up one run. He battled the first hitter, throwing at least 7 pitches to the guy, if my shitty memory is correct. He had the dude 2-2, and absolutely froze him on a breaking ball. Perfect pitch. I swear. Check it below.



Am I right? It may appear to be a tad low, but the ball passes the plate before the catcher catches it. I'm convinced Blue screwed the pooch on this call. I froze the video at the point I feel the ball crossed the plate.



Those that have followed this blog since the beginning are insane know that I umpired everything from 7 year olds, to Varsity, to wood bat Travel Leagues. In the words of some of the parents that got me to eventually quit umpiring, "Fuck you, Blue! - It's all about you, Blue! - Way to rob my son, Blue! - If my kid commits suicide over this, Blue, I'm gonna fucking hunt you down and kill you!" (Seriousness alert! - All but the last one I actually heard directed towards me. Mostly in NOVA Varsity games. What's with these parents these days?)

Anyway, Even if the ball crossed the plate where the catcher caught it, I still feel the tip of the ball touched the bottom of the zone. What happened next? The batter hit a weak sauce infield single to the second baseman, who couldn't get a handle on it. Then up stepped the catcher, Matt McPoopy, who hit (sorry, Drew) a grooved fastball over the left field wall for a 2R HR. I can only assume McStupid was looking fastball, and Storen gave him one up in the zone. The good news? Drew acted like a goddamn closer should, shook it off, and got the next three batters out in a row with a ground out, and two Ks. Atta boy, Drew. Even if you did do it in long-ass soup-sandwich looking pants. I can look past a player crushing my hopes and dreams if it means betterment of the team. Hell, if I cared too much about every time something crushed me, I would've been dead when Shawshank was robbed at the 1994 Oscars. (Fuck you, Forrest Gump!)

Today is also GOLDEN WEDNESDAY! The NL Gold Glove awards are announced, and Zim should certainly be heading home with the 3rd base trophy. What's that? Derek Jeter won for AL SS yesterday?

Fuck.

Could this World Series get any worse?

You know what? It could. A-Rod could not be 0-8 with 6 Ks, so I shouldn't complain too much.

Fuck it, that's the only redeeming thing in this battle of suck.

On one side you got the Phillies. Ugh. Chase Fucking Utley with his greasy ass head. That Danny Zuko looking mother fucker... leave some oil for the rest of us, Chase. Our cars need gas to run.

Then you got Jayson Werth. Way to go, Jason. It only takes you ten years to develop. You were taken in the first round of the 97 draft, dude. It take you ten years to deliver on your potential? Way to go, you Edge looking idiot.

And no knock really on Matt Stairs... except to say that he looks frighteningly like David Crosby to me at this point in his life. Seriously...


Someone else suggested that he looks like a young Wilford Brimley. Too bad you can't find a single goddamn picture of a young Wilford on the entire internets. So, David Crosby it is. Enjoy the 45 second Photoshop below, folks.


Speaking of look-a-likes, Howie Mandel is playing a mean left field for the Phillies this year.


I could go on, but I won't. This is already twenty minutes of my life talking about the Phillies that I'll never get back. The shame...

And on the other side... The Yankees. Everyone knows the number one hater of the Yankees...


But there's a shit ton of other reasons to hate them. I, however, don't want to give them the stage any longer than I absolutely must. So, with that... the last reason to hate the Yankees...

A-Rod like to punch dudes in the junk. Not cool, Alex. Not. Cool.


So, best case scenario? Massive H1N1 breakout in both clubhouses cancels the 09 Series. Or maybe Malaria? Tuberculosis? Cholera? Now that's some selective culling of the herd I could get behind.

So... about that leave of absence there...

Yeah, it's been a little while... sorry about that. But I have an excuse!

You ever been married? How about engaged? If you said yes, you probably remember well how a bunch of people came up to you to tell you the one secret to a successful marriage. "Never go to bed angry," they said. You know why? Cause it's true! You know why it's true? Because when you sleep, you're most vulnerable!

My last post was Friday, September 25th. You know why? Cause that night, the wife and I went to bed angry with each other. What happened next*? I woke up with a knife handle sticking out of my chest. Crazy broad had stabbed me with a 12" butcher knife and missed my heart by inches.

I had to fall out of bed and army crawl down the stairs, aided by nature's natural lubricant - blood. I got to the phone and called the po-po. Went to the hospital, got all patched up, and now I'm back and ready to get back to blogging life. (Oh, I also have a titanium plate in my chest that I can use to fuck up dudes. I can just grab their heads and ::BAM:: slam it into my chest. I'm still deciding on my superhero name.) I'm telling you, folks, it was a harrowing tale that will soon be told on the scariest show on TV, BIO's "I Survived." (Seriously, have you seen that shit? Un-fucking-real! Whenever I watch it I end up locking all the doors, and double fisting lethal objects. I also get my dogs all worked up so that if someone breaks in, they're ready to tear some meat from some bones.)

[*Small, wee, tiny confession - None of the above is true. Well, I Survived is still the scariest show on TV, and I do whip my dogs into flesh ripping frenzies while watching, but the whole wife stabbing me thing? Yeah, made that up. Look... I just lost track of time. I didn't have anything to blog about one day. Then.. one day turned into two, then five, then... I'm really sorry about that, and I cry myself to sleep every night, I'm just so damn torn up about it. I was embarrassed so I made up that story above to cover for me. But I'm back. And things will be better than ever, you'll see! And, sweetie... if you're reading this? Love you, sugar bear! Happy three days since our first anniversary! Sorry about calling you a crazy broad!]

So, what did I miss while I was away?

Oh. Yeah. Drew Storen has turned to the dark side. Witness him on the left below, next to some other Nats pitcher who's supposed to be pretty good himself. (And shows socks!)


Yep. Despite us socks folks out-voting the pants folks 53-3, I have it on good authority that Drew has turned to a pair of Manny pants. Drew, Drew, Drew. You know who else wears Manny pants?

The Spice Girls

Hobos

And Brett Myers, Drew. BRETT MYERS!!!

I'll still read your new blog posts over at NatsTown, and I'll still root for you when you're throwing, but I will not.. nay, I could not... root for your pants, sir. Unless you put Chase Utley on his ass the first three times you face him. Then? We'd be cool. We'd. Be. Cool. /Winks realllly exaggerated and slow like.

(Photo of Drew in the Hobo pants courtesy the Twitter feed of the always great Pam Storen.)