Archive for Naming Names

The Twitter Habits of Derek Holland

Rangers baseball pitcher Derek Holland seems like a lovely young man. Part of that loveliness — a necessary part, I would submit — is that his Twitter predilections are as nude of airs and fronts as something that is just … nude, with silly, floppy genitals brandished like … something silly and floppy that has been brandished.

Witness:

You know who follows McDonald’s on Twitter? Yes, exactly: a gentleman secure in his tastes and station. Now let us McD.L.T.


All the Players Named Vin, Vincent, Vince, or Vinnie

There are some things that need doing in this life, and some of those things can only be done by someone with the given name Vincent or its derivatives.

Below are all the players in the FanGraphs database — so, mostly (if not every) major leaguer ever, and minor leaguers since some time in the later aughts — with a name either resembling, or actually being, Vincent. Said list of players is accompanied by photos of groups of men all of whom are probably also named Vince, if you were to ask them.

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Brian McCann Glimpses the Unthinkable

Abhorrence of Abhorrences lurking behind the potted palm, Brian McCann sees you. If it’s any consolation, Abhorrence of Abhorrences, you are absolutely as mortifying as you think you are. At least to the quaking likes of Brian McCann …

Know this, Brian McCann: whatever you have seen is absolutely not as scared of you as you are of it.

(Thanks to MockSession for the initial image and, thus, the walking tour of the abyss.)


B-Ref Search Yields Encouraging Results

A search at lucky-best Baseball-Reference turns up this meadow of delights …

I have hopes on this day. Chief among them is that “Abner Deatherage” (the lilac hue of his Information Hot Link betrays my curiosity) is not, as the lamewad rationalist within suspects, pronounced “Abner DEATH-ur-ehj.” Instead, the Walter Mitty star-gazer part of me — which I keep buried in my tattered and smelly idiot’s shoe (I own but a single shoe) — hopes that this fine man’s name is pronounced “ABNER DEATH-RAGE” — every syllable accented because every syllable will wreck that shit.

It simply must be.

It simply must be.


Animated Chien-Ming Wang Is in Too Deep

As we know, Chien-Ming Wang, who in better times would be regarded as merely a Dude Trying To Get By, was forced, by the fell and rank schoolmarm forces among us, to apologize for enjoying some harmless, well-intended hubba-hubba with a woman not his wife. As every Premarital Memorandum of Understanding states, sometimes a gentleman must marinade himself in strange ass in order to take his mind off the high-level business transactions that consume him during daylight hours. Thus it was; ergo, thus it should be.

But we’ll leave the decline of Western mores for another day. Instead, I would call the besexed reader’s attention to what follows, which is animated, real-live footage of the dark forces working against Wang and his efforts to share himself with the ladies of America and America-World:

Mike.

(HT: Eye on Baseball, a place you should visit without ceasing)


Update on New Bedford Youth Baseball Controversy

The handsome and besexed reader has no doubt been waiting, breath breathily bated, for news on the unfurling 2007 controversy surrounding the New Bedford, Massachusetts Youth Baseball League. To update:

– A 92-signature petition requesting the presumably blood-soaked removal of the league’s Executive Board has been filed with the Attorney General’s Office.

– Said Executive Board curiously won quite a large share of those league raffle dollars, in some instances, oddly enough, in increments roughly proportional to the amount of power wielded by each member of the Executive Board.

– Ejected coaches are supposed to be fined, and the coach of Manny’s Barber Shop totally was indeed fined upon being ejected. Not fined for being ejected, however, was Coach DeGrasse, who, it so happens, is a member of the Executive Board.

– Complain to the mayor about the conduct of the Executive Board, and you shall be relieved of coaching duties. At least that’s what happened to the former Coach Pereira.

– League Vice President Heather Rowan was allegedly “talking about vibrators in front of the kids.”

– Someone, someone possibly with allegiances to Ma’s Donuts, threw a rock and hit the parent of a player for Manny’s Barbershop, a team already the target of previous ruthlessness on the part of the Executive Board.

– As well, there is an almost palpable lack of “urgency from them [the big assholes of the Executive Board] to find out who threw the rock.”

– As well, there is an almost palpable “conspiracy to expel me [Coach Duarte, of Manny’s Barber Shop] from the league . . .”

Developing.


The Musical Decisions of Mark Trumbo

Angels slugger Mark Trumbo is famous for his power potential and his power potential. Insofar as musical tastes are concerned, however, Mr. Trumbo embraces a pregame oeuvre at which the discriminating aesthete, who is always too much with us, might pshaw and snort:

The best I can say for his selections is that, unlike Wagner, they don’t make me feel as though something sweeping, organized and racist is about to happen.

URGENT UPDATE: Commenter Grant points out that Mr. Trumbo was merely having a go at us. He is once again a Young Man of America in good standing.


Chipper Joneses

When Chipper Jones announced yesterday that he would be retiring after the 2012 season, a nation of cats named Chipper Jones shed a little extra fur in anticipated sadness.

Chipper Jones the cats watch baseball. Chipper Jones the cats have have lost weight. Chipper Jones the cats are under an umbrella. Chipper Jones the cats are entertained by doctors. Chipper Jones the cats are being squeaked. Chipper Jones the cats wanted something different. Chipper Jones the cats have owners who are so glad they named their cats after Chipper Jones, but for all the wrong reasons. Chipper Jones the cats are Mr. Jones and me. Chipper Jones the cats are stuck with you, too. Chipper Jones the cats are broken images. Chipper Jones the cats are animated little fellows (or are they?). Chipper Jones the cats have been fine ever since. Chipper Jones the cats would love to help you with that quilting. Chipper Jones the cats truly are the pimp shit.


CJ Wilson Is a Pranking Fool

Somehow this one slipped between the cracks — C.J. Wilson pranked Mike Napoli… by putting the catcher’s phone number on twitter. He wasn’t particularly contrite about it afterwards either:

Perhaps “Nap Nap Weiner” will take an item off of this list of suggested revenge pranks?

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Brian McCann Will Be What You Need Him to Be

We know that Braves catcher Brian McCann is good at baseball, but now comes evidence — evidence that the stern and jowly judge will allow so long as counsel is going somewhere with this — that he is also adept at falling on his sword:

“The most I ever sat and pondered over a season since I started playing baseball,” McCann said.

After deep contemplation — along with plenty of offseason golf and vacations to Las Vegas and the Bahamas — he was sure he had arrived at the root cause of the Braves’ epic September belly-flop. By the time he came south, he was prepared to sling a little blame.

It was him.

Not the hurricane in New York that broke the team’s momentum. Not the injuries to starters Tommy Hanson and Jair Jurrjens. Not the sapping of the bullpen.

All him. He’s Spartacus.

“I truly felt if I played up to my standards, the Cardinals don’t get in the postseason,” McCann said.

In Boston, where the collapse was equally as tragicomic, there were other culprits — three of them, to be precise. McCann, because he is a McMan, is willing to be those three things. Bless this magnificent bastard …