Archive for Classic Fu*king Brawls

Planning for Your Future, with Kyle Farnsworth


“Hi, I’m Kyle Farnsworth. You probably know me as a longtime major-league reliever with the Cubs, Rays, Yankees, and other teams. Baseball is great, but my real passion is helping people plan for their future — financially, yes, but also spiritually, how to deal with aging, all of it. Regardless of what it is, having a plan is important.

“Let me give you an example from my own life. In 2003, when I was with the Cubs, I threw an inside fastball to Reds pitcher Paul Wilson, who was attempting to bunt. Wilson came out of the box and was barking at me, so I said something back. Then, Wilson dropped his bat and ran at me. Then I beat his goddamn ass.

“Paul Wilson’s problem was, he didn’t have a plan. He decided to throw down, but hadn’t considered anything further than that. And what happened? He got blown up by a weapon known as Kyle Farnsworth’s Impressive Biceps Especial.

“Now let’s look at it from the other side. Soon as Wilson starts running his mouth, I’m surveying the situation. Like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character in Terminator, is how I think of it. I analyze all the weak points in my possible opponent, try and assess his willingness to fight, and then beat his goddamn ass.

“I want to help you do in your life like what I did to Paul Wilson on a baseball field. I’m Kyle Farnwsorth, and this is Planning for Your Future, with Kyle Farnsworth.”

Read more Kyle Farnwsorth coverage from yesterday by Bradley Woodrum.

Classic F__king Brawls: A Leisured McGraw-Era Beating

The reader might absorb what follows and then cavil, “Sir, that wasn’t a brawl at all!” But the foul-smelling reader would be wrong about that. Bear assaulted witness:

Take That, Mountebank

As you may have surmised, these are two New York Giants — John McGraw MenTM — in the process of a skylarking annihilation of what’s surely a high-ranking member of a besoiled foreign horde. For a time — during the biting, for instance — this could be dismissed as merest tenement roughhousing. Then, however, the gentleman most astride his victim begins to reduce the easy mark’s skull and belfry to a pulpy gruel. At that point, an onlooker — an onlooker almost certainly named “Pinky Cooney” — is roused to intercede.

All of that is why all of this should absolutely be filed under “Classic F___king Brawls.”

Classic F___ing Brawls: The Soup-Bones of Dave Stewart

Major-league purveyor of street justice Dave Stewart knows that it’s not nice to wallop one’s elder with the implement of destruction known as Dave Stewart’s igneous right hand, but when said elder makes with the kicky-pants the time for thunderclap soup-bones is at hand. Recoil and then spit out your teeth …

Soup. Bones.

Pat Corrales, thou art cautionary tale made man.

File under: Classic F***ing Brawls.

Classic F__king Brawls: Armando Benitez vs. Everybody

Back in May of 1998, when this unassailable act of prophecy was likely being written, The Orioles and Yankees decided that soup-bones and not bats, balls and gloves would be the determinative instruments of most glorious abandon for God and Country.

First, Armando Benitez, gentleman wildcat, presents us with the casus belli

Benitez de Salvo

Read the rest of this entry »

Mo Vaughn Will Absolutely Take Out the Trash

When it comes to fighting his own battles, above-it-all Aaron Sele can scarcely be bothered. If he happens to prod and poke George Bell to the point of brandishing soup-bones, then, well, perhaps someone else more comfortable with the thankless toil of beating ass will do above-it-all Aaron Sele’s work for him. Luckily for above-it-all Aaron Sele, Mo Vaughn, whose chest is a barrel made of boulders and also filled with boulders, is preternaturally delighted by the prospect of taking out the trash …

The Garbage Man Cometh

Have we just witnessed an example of “taking out the trash” or “making love the Mo Vaughn way”? Yes.

Most of all, file under “Classic Fu*king Brawls.”

Lover, Not Fighter: Dennis Martinez

One night in 1977, Dennis Martinez was confronted by a decision: fight or go make love somewhere …

When faced with an onrushing and plainly nettled George Scott, a gentleman scampers. “A hasty retreat is what he beat,” Vin Scully might have said if he’d been calling the game. But probably not.

Martinez, it should be noted, lived to feel the breeze on his loins for another many days. Scott, it should be noted, is to this day still being restrained by Martinez’s long-retired teammates among the ruins of Memorial Stadium.

Readers — no fewer than one of them — not long ago sounded the call, clarion in nature and execution, for more classic brawls. So it is with the sense of agency that comes from satisfying a customer that I introduce the new NotGraphs category: “Classic Fu*king Brawls.”

Two GIFs: Celebrating the 1984 Padres-Braves Brawl

Over at the Home for All Baseball Fans, I briefly celebrated the 28th anniversary of the greatest donnybrook of them all — one in which crimson masks surely abounded. The fact is that sometimes gentlemen must settle disputes over the phrasing of certain contractual elements with their fists and chunky cocks. The resulting bruises are as black as Bibles, but, lo, those bruises clarify.

How do you know a given fracas is right-wise? First, civilians are conscripted …

Second, Ed Whitson is bestripped of tunic and as affronted as a hornet who is not only wet but also cuckolded and accused of a crime he did not commit and overcharged for a lousy seafood dinner …

Twenty-eight years ago, some men saw to some business.