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.)