Old Business:
We've been easing our way into the offseason by downloading classic games from iTunes, and so far we've watched Game 6 of the 2003 World Series--we were too busy hating baseball and all its works and all its empty promises to properly appreciate the dominance of young Josh Beckett* at the time--and Roger Clemens' 1986 twenty-strikeout game. It's a lot of fun. For the record, Baby Beckett and Baby Rocket really do have extremely similar stances, Miguel Cabrera really was a svelte young thing, and the Mariners really did used to wear wide, gold-striped elastic belts. Next stop for our Tardis: 1965 and Sandy Koufax.
Also, we know we're behind, 'cause we haven't said anything since Mikey Lowell failed to sign on the dotted by the deadline.** It's hard to keep up with all the rumors and denials of rumors and noncommittal comments, even if we limit ourselves to Nick Cafardo's mad flailing as our main source of news. No rumor too random to bite your nails over, huh? And how come there's no news on Mike Timlin?
New Business:
Well, tonight Buster Olney claimed on SportsCenter that he expected Lowell to make a decision within 72 hours. So that'll make the weekend interesting, since nothing else is going in baseball news at all.
Oh, and we heard something about Barry Bonds and Alex Rodriguez? We heard that they're forming some kind of wacky Harlem Globetrotter exhibition team together, with a $300 million dollar payroll and George Mitchell as the GM? The Alcatraz Sharks, or something? Bright orange uniforms? Do we have that information right? It's not like ESPN is talking about it at all.
Rodriguez and Bonds have had their parallel storylines going all year, with these great Shakespearean overtones. They are men of great talent and power brought low by ego and greed; they're everywhere and yet they seem elusive, surrounded by myths and mockery.*** We should be fascinated. And we would be fascinated to find out what actually goes on in their heads, if they'd like to step to the corner of the stage and begin the monologue. But as long as they have agents and lawyers, that will never happen. And we just don't want to read, hear, or watch any more of Keith Law and Murray Chass and freakin' Charles Barkley pontificating about Barry's or Alex's issues. We're over it.
Unless there is going to be swordfighting, in which case we are there. With bells on.
*He shakes off Pudge Rodriguez like forty-seven times, to no apparent ill effect. Further evidence for our totally intangible case that Jason Varitek is magic.
**We support the Papel-blog's NDRaPRSFftEMRSoML effort and are definitely all for the emotionally motivated re-signing of Mike Lowell, but we could never be club members because we are not normally discerning, rational or pragmatic. Not like you couldn't tell.
***Also, we once read a scholarly analysis proving that King Lear could really rake.
Showing posts with label bonds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bonds. Show all posts
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Friday, August 3, 2007
We do not think, therefore we are not in this house
Scene: A drawing room in Second Empire style. A massive bronze bust of Babe Ruth stands on the mantelpiece.
BONDS: [enters, accompanied by A-ROD] So here we are.
A-ROD: Yeah. Waiting for history.
BONDS: Pass me that copy of Highlights?
A-ROD: Sure. I got Redbook.
[They read.]
BONDS: [laughing] Oh, Gallant. You so crazy.
GLAVINE: [enters, slamming the door.] This is ridiculous--they keep cancelling my appointment!
BONDS: Oh, crap, a paparazzi. [A-ROD hides his magazine.] Look, how many times do I have to say this? There are way worse killers in the world than steroids! Like Voldemort!
GLAVINE: I'm not a paparazzi.
A-ROD: Don't listen to him, Barry! I've seen him around New York! He's here to ruin our family lives!
GLAVINE: I play for the Mets.
A-ROD: The what now?
GLAVINE: I've been in the game for years. I was a World Series MVP. I pitched to you both this season, for Chrissakes. I even gave up a home run to Barry.
BONDS: Nope, not ringing a bell.
A-ROD: Anyway, how did a pitcher get into history's waiting room? Mr. Torre always says that pitching doesn't count.
GLAVINE: Right. Well, I've been going for my 300th win for about a month.
[BONDS and A-ROD exchange smirks.]
BONDS: 300? That is a tiny number, man.
GLAVINE: Oh, yeah? So is one. Which is exactly how many home runs you have not hit in your last thirty-something at-bats. [A-ROD snickers.] What are you laughing at, Slappy? You're not getting it done either. I haven't seen you swinging this badly since...well, October.
A-ROD: [flinging himself down on a chaise longue] Why is it so haaaard?
BONDS: I've been wondering about that, actually. It's so weird, but that one last roundtripper can seem harder than hitting the hundreds and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds--
[GLAVINE pretends to vomit into a potted ficus.]
BONDS: --and hundreds and hundreds that came before.
GLAVINE: I hate to agree with you, but it does feel that way. It's kind of ironic.
A-ROD: It's like meeting the man of your dreams, and then meeting his beautiful wife.
BONDS: Why is that one home run--
GLAVINE: Two for you, actually.
BONDS: --So hard to come by?
A-ROD: It's not fair! What have I done to deserve this? Nothing! That's what! All I've ever done is play by the rules! Unlike some people.
BONDS: Hey, what the hell, man?
A-ROD: No offense, Barry. I mean, I am glad that your giant head got everyone in the game to stop hating me, but we all know--
BONDS: Oh, and you never did anything wrong? Listen, when your closet's clean, then come clean mine.
A-ROD: I don't know what you're talking about!
BONDS: Sure. And I thought that stuff was flaxseed oil!
GLAVINE: [pretending to cough] Cheater.
A-ROD: [turns pale] I will have you know that Derek is a valuable teammate of mine and nothing more!
GLAVINE: ...Actually, that was for Barry.
BONDS: Hey, man, I ain't even know Derek all that well.
GLAVINE: No, I--forget it. You know, maybe it is karma, though. We've all done things that didn't exactly help the game of baseball. We've all put money ahead of the sport--
A-ROD: Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Met. Pitchers don't get paid.
GLAVINE: [blinks] Roger Clemens?
A-ROD: He's not a pitcher, he's a Yankee!
GLAVINE: My point is, we've all done things that tarnish our public image. Me, I once cost the game a whole season and thousands of fans, and also killed the Montreal Expos. Although, really, it was more like putting them to sleep. Now, we've been lucky enough to keep playing and persevere to the point that all three of us are just about to reach these amazing milestones. Maybe it's a struggle because karma is kicking our asses until we remember that baseball has given us more than we could ever give back.
[Silence as all three contemplate this.]
GLAVINE: And also, my bullpen sucks.
BONDS: And bitches aren't throwing me anything over the plate.
A-ROD: And I lost my binky.
GLAVINE: Nuts to this existential stuff. I'm gonna go beat the snot out of Guillermo Mota.
[Exit GLAVINE.]
BONDS: You mean we can just walk out of here? Sweet, I have someplace to be.
A-ROD: Yeah, don't you have a game tonight?
BONDS: Nah, fool, Sanford & Son is on.
[BONDS exits, then returns to take his copy of Highlights For Kids! Magazine. Exit BONDS, for good this time.]
A-ROD: [looking around the empty room.] You know, I've learned something today. When we focus only on the milestone numbers, we forget so many wonderful things about baseball. Like the loving support of our teammates. And making tons and tons of money. And elbowing people in the crotch at second base. The paparazzi can't take that away from me, no matter how hard they try!
[Exit A-ROD, pursued by a bear.]
BONDS: [enters, accompanied by A-ROD] So here we are.
A-ROD: Yeah. Waiting for history.
BONDS: Pass me that copy of Highlights?
A-ROD: Sure. I got Redbook.
[They read.]
BONDS: [laughing] Oh, Gallant. You so crazy.
GLAVINE: [enters, slamming the door.] This is ridiculous--they keep cancelling my appointment!
BONDS: Oh, crap, a paparazzi. [A-ROD hides his magazine.] Look, how many times do I have to say this? There are way worse killers in the world than steroids! Like Voldemort!
GLAVINE: I'm not a paparazzi.
A-ROD: Don't listen to him, Barry! I've seen him around New York! He's here to ruin our family lives!
GLAVINE: I play for the Mets.
A-ROD: The what now?
GLAVINE: I've been in the game for years. I was a World Series MVP. I pitched to you both this season, for Chrissakes. I even gave up a home run to Barry.
BONDS: Nope, not ringing a bell.
A-ROD: Anyway, how did a pitcher get into history's waiting room? Mr. Torre always says that pitching doesn't count.
GLAVINE: Right. Well, I've been going for my 300th win for about a month.
[BONDS and A-ROD exchange smirks.]
BONDS: 300? That is a tiny number, man.
GLAVINE: Oh, yeah? So is one. Which is exactly how many home runs you have not hit in your last thirty-something at-bats. [A-ROD snickers.] What are you laughing at, Slappy? You're not getting it done either. I haven't seen you swinging this badly since...well, October.
A-ROD: [flinging himself down on a chaise longue] Why is it so haaaard?
BONDS: I've been wondering about that, actually. It's so weird, but that one last roundtripper can seem harder than hitting the hundreds and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds--
[GLAVINE pretends to vomit into a potted ficus.]
BONDS: --and hundreds and hundreds that came before.
GLAVINE: I hate to agree with you, but it does feel that way. It's kind of ironic.
A-ROD: It's like meeting the man of your dreams, and then meeting his beautiful wife.
BONDS: Why is that one home run--
GLAVINE: Two for you, actually.
BONDS: --So hard to come by?
A-ROD: It's not fair! What have I done to deserve this? Nothing! That's what! All I've ever done is play by the rules! Unlike some people.
BONDS: Hey, what the hell, man?
A-ROD: No offense, Barry. I mean, I am glad that your giant head got everyone in the game to stop hating me, but we all know--
BONDS: Oh, and you never did anything wrong? Listen, when your closet's clean, then come clean mine.
A-ROD: I don't know what you're talking about!
BONDS: Sure. And I thought that stuff was flaxseed oil!
GLAVINE: [pretending to cough] Cheater.
A-ROD: [turns pale] I will have you know that Derek is a valuable teammate of mine and nothing more!
GLAVINE: ...Actually, that was for Barry.
BONDS: Hey, man, I ain't even know Derek all that well.
GLAVINE: No, I--forget it. You know, maybe it is karma, though. We've all done things that didn't exactly help the game of baseball. We've all put money ahead of the sport--
A-ROD: Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Met. Pitchers don't get paid.
GLAVINE: [blinks] Roger Clemens?
A-ROD: He's not a pitcher, he's a Yankee!
GLAVINE: My point is, we've all done things that tarnish our public image. Me, I once cost the game a whole season and thousands of fans, and also killed the Montreal Expos. Although, really, it was more like putting them to sleep. Now, we've been lucky enough to keep playing and persevere to the point that all three of us are just about to reach these amazing milestones. Maybe it's a struggle because karma is kicking our asses until we remember that baseball has given us more than we could ever give back.
[Silence as all three contemplate this.]
GLAVINE: And also, my bullpen sucks.
BONDS: And bitches aren't throwing me anything over the plate.
A-ROD: And I lost my binky.
GLAVINE: Nuts to this existential stuff. I'm gonna go beat the snot out of Guillermo Mota.
[Exit GLAVINE.]
BONDS: You mean we can just walk out of here? Sweet, I have someplace to be.
A-ROD: Yeah, don't you have a game tonight?
BONDS: Nah, fool, Sanford & Son is on.
[BONDS exits, then returns to take his copy of Highlights For Kids! Magazine. Exit BONDS, for good this time.]
A-ROD: [looking around the empty room.] You know, I've learned something today. When we focus only on the milestone numbers, we forget so many wonderful things about baseball. Like the loving support of our teammates. And making tons and tons of money. And elbowing people in the crotch at second base. The paparazzi can't take that away from me, no matter how hard they try!
[Exit A-ROD, pursued by a bear.]
Saturday, July 21, 2007
We do not bury Bonds in this house
Dear FOX Sports,
We get it: Barry Bonds is going to break Hank Aaron's record. And soon. We're not thrilled with it, but we accept it. We're coping. However, this does not mean that you get to cut into a game we are watching, the game you are actually airing, every. single. time. Barry Bonds has an at-bat. For one thing, he's still two runs from tying the record, and three from beating it. So even if he does hit it out of the park right now, it's not a historical event. It's a home run, no more and no less than a home run hit by Manny Ramirez or David Wright or Bronson Arroyo.
Therefore, please do not do that again. After Bonds has hit two more roundtrippers, and only after he has gone yard two more times, can you start cutting into the currently airing game every time Bonds has an at-bat. We still won't like it, mind, especially if you're cutting into a Red Sox game, but at least it'll make some sort of sense, in the grander historical context.*
No Love,
The Girls of Respect the Tek
*At least, it will seem important for a decade so until we're talking about whether A-Rod, a known slapper, is worthy of breaking the Great Pumpkinhead's record, and whether he should wear an Angels cap in the Hall of Fame now that California is sinking into the sea. And, of course, will the Sox' first round draft pick be Manny Ramirez, Jr. or Manny Ramirez Jr., Jr.?
We get it: Barry Bonds is going to break Hank Aaron's record. And soon. We're not thrilled with it, but we accept it. We're coping. However, this does not mean that you get to cut into a game we are watching, the game you are actually airing, every. single. time. Barry Bonds has an at-bat. For one thing, he's still two runs from tying the record, and three from beating it. So even if he does hit it out of the park right now, it's not a historical event. It's a home run, no more and no less than a home run hit by Manny Ramirez or David Wright or Bronson Arroyo.
Therefore, please do not do that again. After Bonds has hit two more roundtrippers, and only after he has gone yard two more times, can you start cutting into the currently airing game every time Bonds has an at-bat. We still won't like it, mind, especially if you're cutting into a Red Sox game, but at least it'll make some sort of sense, in the grander historical context.*
No Love,
The Girls of Respect the Tek
*At least, it will seem important for a decade so until we're talking about whether A-Rod, a known slapper, is worthy of breaking the Great Pumpkinhead's record, and whether he should wear an Angels cap in the Hall of Fame now that California is sinking into the sea. And, of course, will the Sox' first round draft pick be Manny Ramirez, Jr. or Manny Ramirez Jr., Jr.?
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