Y’know, logos and mascots such as myself are generally discriminated against in the world of baseball analysis, as in most other aspects of life. Supposedly, the rap on us is that we’re not good with the advanced math needed for today’s fancy-ass prediction making. And you know what? I’ll cop to that. I couldn’t tell you what 37 minus 94 is or whatever number shit you wanna throw at me. You could look at me and think: there’s a cartoon bird that is not real good with the numbers. And you’d be right. I do not know my ass from my elbow when it comes to numbers, and I’m not even sure I have an elbow.

Y’know, logos and mascots such as myself are generally discriminated against in the world of baseball analysis, as in most other aspects of life. Supposedly, the rap on us is that we’re not good with the advanced math needed for today’s fancy-ass prediction making. And you know what? I’ll cop to that. I couldn’t tell you what 37 minus 94 is or whatever number shit you wanna throw at me. You could look at me and think: there’s a cartoon bird that is not real good with the numbers. And you’d be right. I do not know my ass from my elbow when it comes to numbers, and I’m not even sure I have an elbow.

But a bird can count on its dinky little claws. I learned that from looking at the dumbass “ornithologically correct” Oriole they threw up on the cap after me. And here’s what I can do. I can count to three and to six. As in, “over the years 1966 to 1989, the Baltimore Orioles won THREE World Series,” and “from 1966 to 1989, the Orioles won the AL pennant SIX times.”

Oh yeah, there’s another number I can count to, and that number is NONE! NOTHING! ZERO! Because if I in fact have ZERO elbows, it would be just like the exact number of pennants and World Series won by the Baltimore Orioles since they took me off their goddamn cap. Math? Yeah, I can do a little math.

And not to belabor the goddamn point, but Brooksie wore me. And Frank Robinson. Jimmy Palmer wore me. Earl wore me. Eddie Murray. Cal, too. Belanger wore me. So did Boog, and Buford. When Paulie Blair got his face dented by Ken Tatum, who saw the pitch coming in all the way? I was there for Bumbry and Dempsey. DeCinces and Dauer, and McNally and McGregor. And Flanagan and Singleton. And Tippy and Ellie and Storm and Kiko and Lenn. I was good enough for all of them.

But this cartoon bird ain’t good enough for Leo Gomez and Randy Milligan? Ain’t dignified enough for Chris Hoiles or Sidney Ponson? How ya figure that?

What makes it hurt worse? I went before Wahoo. Always thought I’d outlast Wahoo. To be honest, there haven’t been a lot of cartoon logos. There was that guy with the Reds, with the big baseball head and the mustache. You knew he wasn’t gonna last. Serious drinking problem.

It hurts me to say it, but goddammit, since they ditched me, this team has been a piece of crap. Okay for 98 wins in 1997, a legit contender that was just too pricey. So all the “guest stars” faded away… first Jimmy Key, then Alomar, then Palmiero… all replaced by crappier versions of themselves. And then the team pretty much forgot to develop young players for eight years. The goddamn Baltimore Orioles! Who would’ve predicted The Oriole Way was gonna turn into The Oriole Way to Write Big Fat Checks to Delino DeShields? Honest to shit, it was as if there was no reason whatsoever to take a shot on a young player, when this damn team could simply throw money at Marty Cordova, or Pat Hentgen, or Deivi Cruz. This was the team Albert Belle was gonna make his comeback with, remember? How’d that turn out?

Hey, what say we count some more? First, second, third, fourth. Fourth place. This is a goddamn permanent fourth place team. In 2004, they bumped all the way up to third. Tweet tweet fuckin’ tweet. Rah rah rah for ornithologically correct.

And let’s be honest, no way this team is competitive now or in the near future. Still never met a veteran it didn’t wanna hand a big bag of money to. Aubrey Huff? I guess when you’re coming out of Tampa, anything looks good. And Jesus, Steve Trachsel? It’s like they’re trying to corner the market in quiet veteran leadership.

And speaking of leadership… Miguel Tejada! Fantastic player! Fantastic guy! Fantastic sap! What did they say to him to make him believe that this team was gonna be competitive? How was it possibly gonna pass the Blue Jays, let alone the Sox and Yanks? “Miguel, we want you to know we’re serious about winning. And that’s why we’ve redesigned our logo, to make it even more ornithologically correct.”

You think Bedard sees himself at Camden in four/five years? I see the guy trying on pinstripes in his head, or Boston or L.A. Markakis too, if he’s smart like they say. It’s a damn shame.

And y’know what the other sad thing is? These aren’t bad guys mostly. Ramon Hernandez is pretty good. Jay Gibbons ain’t a bad player. Brian Roberts is quality. Melvin Mora ain’t gonna hit .340 again. But .320? Don’t say he can’t.

These guys… most of ’em, they’re pieces of good teams. But together, they don’t amount to much. You need more than Miggy Tejada and a bunch of pretty good guys, especially if your rotation is Steve Trachsel in a crappy re-make of My Three Sons.

Hoo-boy, it’s a long way since ’83. Even longer since ’70. And I tell ya, it hurts like crap to even remember it, but we were the class of baseball. We had it figured out. And then, it’s like we forgot it. Or Pete Angelos thought he had it figured out even better. Including the uniform and logo, you believe it. Yeah, who’s fucked now, Petey?

I’m not saying that if they’d have kept me on the hat, we’d be winning the pennant, or making the postseason, or honestly, being any good at all. But it seems like a raw and ironical goddamn deal for everyone that the very moment the Baltimore goddamn Orioles decide to get “serious” and “professional” about their “brand,” the entire outfit-the class of baseball, I tell ya!–goes completely down the goddamn toilet. ‘Cause like I said, I ain’t sayin’ it’d have changed things, but maybe for one moment that Jeffrey Maier kid takes his eye off the ball, maybe just for that tiny half a moment, he catches sight of the funny-lookin’ bird on Tarasco’s cap, and everything’s different, maybe.

Since his retirement in 1989, The Cartoon Bird has devoted his time to eating dungeness crab, betting on the ponies, and of course, the ladies.