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)
- 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 . . .”
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.
by Summer Anne Burton - March 23, 2012
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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.
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 …
Among the many losses endured by the Boston Red Sox this offseason, none was so loudly mourned as that of Heidi Watney, NESN’s erstwhile and comely foul-territory reporter. However, as the Internetting Gentleman with the Web-enabled computer may already know, Ms. Watney now has a replacement. Please meet Ms. Jenny Dell. Click to make the image more turgid, swollen, erect, dilated, and puffy:
Just how much of a bawdy minx is Ms. Dell? Well, contrary to appearances, that’s not a Halloween party pictured above; that’s her uncle’s wake. So consider her your clubhouse leader for the 2012 ESPY for “Best Journalism Cans.”
As always and forever, though, make mine Julia Ormond.
David Nied is playing a boy’s game in a god’s country! Is that a cowhide baseball or a frosty snowball, both totems to a lad’s insouciance! The promises of youth! The crisp air in one’s lungs! The ball taking determined flight from the determined hands of a Young Man of America! Who cares if his paymasters will force him to pitch in Mile High Stadium! David Nied, Young Man of America, can do this!
It comes as no surprise that yesterday’s junket into the damnably handsome mind of Young Kevin Youkilis lit the Internet on fire and then made love to the flames. Were the writer’s interpretations chillingly accurate or nothing more than odious revisionism? On this matter, the Republic is as sharply divided as a fraction with rocky chasm running through it and within that chasm a painstakingly sustained demilitarized zone and within that demilitarized zone a river and a fence with razor wire and giant, violent border chickens — talons brandished, natch.
Young Kevin Youkilis is the only varsity athlete to be bullied by an asthmatic National Merit Semi-Finalist.
Young Kevin Youkilis uses flash cards to remind him of his deepest regrets and of the specific ways in which he will one day show them all.
Young Kevin Youkilis will not be voted “Most Handsome” or “Most Likely to Succeed”; Young Kevin Youkilis, in an informal and unsanctioned straw poll, will be voted “Most Likely to Try Too Hard. So Hard It’s Almost Adorable.”
Young Kevin Youkilis, if he’s honest with himself, is probably too old to identify so strongly with the full complement of male Peanuts characters. But sometimes he does so much it hurts. “Linus, man, I know,” he says at night while reading his tattered copies.
When Young Kevin Youkilis needs to half-smile for photos, he thinks of that time he saw Meghan Connelly’s bra. And baseball.
Young Kevin Youkilis’s hair has been called “frustration’s pelt.”
Although Young Kevin Youkilis’s hair is the only thing holding the sweat in, he still wishes his stupid hair would just go away.
It shall.
On Young Kevin Youkilis’s Trapper Keeper, which is festooned with images of geometric shapes and planetoids in determined orbit, he has written, “My heart and will are too big and mighty for Cincinnati.”
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