Your All-Herd All-Stars

Posted on by Colin Cowherd · 2 Comments

cowherd.JPG

Okay, America. You’re in the Herd. Nothing you can do about it, so stop trying.

It’s no secret I get a lot of crap. Especially from people who don’t know any better. People who can’t think for themselves. Seriously, if I spend more than two seconds thinking about it, it’s depressing. I can’t believe the number of crybabies that get riled up about the stuff I say. “Colin! You’re so negative! Why are you so negative?” Newsflash, Poindexter: it’s a sports show. Get over it. You’ve got nothing better to do than pop a blood vessel in your brain because of something I said? That’s just sad.

I’m not negative. Never been negative. I just call it like I see it. That’s what sports guys do. That’s my job. If you’ve got a problem with that, then you’ve got a problem with reality. If reality is negative for you, then I can’t help you. Go drink a can of Drano. Here, I’ll pop it open for you. There. It’s open. Drink up. Reality is negative? Drink up. If you sit here, and tell me that reality, the objective truth that I report here — if you’ve got a problem with that, then go drink that can of Drano. And if you can’t do that, then I guess you’re gutless and ignorant.

Anyway, today is for you guys. All the special ed kids out there. Today, I’m gonna be positive. Because today is about the All-Herd All-Star Team.

I’m talking about the guys that earn it. The guys who play the game like men. Not like spoiled children. 90 % of major league baseball players are spoiled brats. They’ve been spoiled since the day their daddies saw them hit that first ball. “Oooooh. Billy’s special. Carlos is special. Ching-Chong-Cho is special. Look at him hit the baseball. My boy is special enough to play at the major league level.”

And that may be true. Little Billy may go on to play at the major league level. But the inevitable result is that you’ve got a sport that’s 90% spoiled babies. Spoiled babies who can complain about making millions of dollars a year. I guarantee you, look in any major league baseball bullpen, you’ll find some middle reliever who blew half a dozen saves last year, has an ERA over 6.00, and thinks he’s underpaid at a million dollars a year. I guarantee it.

This is why no one cares about baseball anymore. Every football player who steps onto a field knows that he is gonna get hit. Hit hard. Maybe hard enough to paralyze him. Maybe hard enough to kill him. But half the players on any given baseball team can get to the park with a pretty good idea that they’re gonna spend the day getting paid to sit on their ass and dip.

There are a handful of people who deserve to be called ballplayers, the way we call Ted Williams a ballplayer, the way we call Pete Rose a ballplayer. That’s what the All-Herd team is about. So here they are.

rogers.jpg
P – Kenny Rogers
Kenny Rogers has always been a fantastic pitcher. Big game pitcher. The man threw a perfect game. Last year, Kenny Rogers took the Tigers from the worst team in baseball to the American League pennant. In the World Series, when the rest of his team pretty much decided to give up, Rogers was the only guy to win a game – Eight innings, no runs, two hits. He knew he couldn’t trust his teammates to win. He realized: I have to do this myself. And he did.

Kenny Rogers takes no crap from no one. Especially not the press. When Kenny Rogers shoved that cameraman, that was huge. He just told the entire world: I don’t take crap from you. And that’s what being on the All-Herd team is about.

pierz.jpg
C – A.J. Pierzynski
Most hated guy in the league. Hands down, most hated guy. No one in the American League is hated more than A.J. Pierzynski. He is despised. You know who else was despised? A guy named Ty Cobb. Ted Williams was hated. Don Drysdale, hated. You ever notice how the guy who’s the most hated guy in baseball is usually a phenomenal player? Well guess what? A.J. Pierzynski is a phenomenal player.

Wherever he goes, he wins. He takes Minnesota to the playoffs at age 25. Then he does it again the next year. The Twins decide they don’t like to win ballgames and trade him to the Giants. Predictably, he hates San Francisco, but gives them a fantastic year. The Giants decide they don’t like winning either, trade him to Chicago. And Chicago says, “You know what? We like winning ballgames. Let’s try to win ballgames.” And they keep A.J. Pierzynski, and because they do, they win the World Series. So Pierzynski gets to come back to the AL Central and make the Twins eat dirt. That’s what it’s like, when the guy you’ve let go comes back to beat your ass and win the World Series, it’s like having a big fistful of dirt jammed right in your mouth. That’s what the Twins get, for being the Twins. That’s what you get for being so stupid and so shortsighted, as to trade away A.J. Pierzynski.

mient.jpg
1b – Doug Mientkiewicz
Here’s another guy who the Twins couldn’t see the value of. You know who I’d like to meet? I’d like to meet the guy who nailed down the World Series for the Twins in 2004. Oh yeah, that’s right. The Twins didn’t win the World Series in ’04. They got bounced in the first round of the playoffs. The Red Sox won that Series. And who nailed it down? Doug Mientkiewicz.

And of course, everybody got on Mientkiewicz because he kept that ball from the last out. Could you believe the nerve of Larry Lucchino? Who caught the ball? Did Larry Lucchino catch it? No. Mientkiewicz caught it. The moment he caught that ball, the season was over, end of story. What, Mientkiewicz is supposed to give up the ball just because Boston hasn’t won a World Series in ninety years? Mientkiewicz has to give up the ball because of Bill Buckner? Mientkiewicz has to give up the ball because of Bucky Dent? That ball is Doug Mientkiewicz’s property, and he has to give it up because Larry Lucchino says so? “Nice try,” says Doug Mientkiewicz, “now open wide and eat dirt.” And that’s essentially what Lucchino does. And that’s why Lucchino is a coward, and Mientkiewicz is All-Herd.

kent.jpg
2b – Jeff Kent
Jeff Kent is a first-ballot Hall of Famer. As far as I’m concerned? First ballot. And you know, the reality is, he’s going to have a damn hard time getting in, if he gets in at all. I’ve always said the Hall of Fame was irrelevant. You don’t put Jeff Kent in, you might as well hang it up. Lock the doors. Turn out the lights. If you don’t take Jeff Kent, forget it. You just proved why you’re a living joke.

Because Kent has dominated this position. In the last thirty years, only two second basemen have won an MVP award — Ryne Sandberg and Jeff Kent. And Kent is better than Sandberg. And you know why he’s not going to the Hall of Fame? Because Jeff Kent does not give a crap about what you think of him.

Barry Bonds hates his guts. Milton Bradley hates his guts. Because they think he’s a racist. And maybe Jeff Kent is a racist, and maybe he’s not. The point is, Jeff Kent isn’t paid to make Barry Bonds feel good about himself. It’s not Jeff Kent’s job to tuck Barry Bonds in at night. It’s not Jeff Kent’s job to sit there and read Goodnight Moon to Barry Bonds, or Milton Bradley, or anyone. Jeff Kent is paid to hit homers and rack up the ribbies. And frankly, if Barry Bonds and Milton Bradley hate your guts, then you probably deserve a medal.

Okay, our sponsors say we gotta take a break. We’ll be back with more of the All-Herd team.

Colin Cowherd is the five-time winner of the Nevada Sportscaster of the Year honors. He also hosts “The Herd with Colin Cowherd” on ESPN Radio.

YARD WORK EXCLUSIVE: Statement From David Glass

Posted on by David Glass · Leave a comment

The results of this season, win-wise, are clearly not acceptable to me or to Royals fans. But instead of the optimistic enthusiasm offered by my good friend George Steinbrenner in his recent statement, I am releasing this statement to ask Royals fans for their continued alliegance and patience as we push forward through this arduous rebuilding period.

Because of the string of losing seasons suffered by Kansas City in recent years, the Royals organization has benefitted from Major League Baseball’s revenue sharing program. Thanks to Commissioner Bud Selig’s commitment to leaving no team behind, the Royals, and other teams in similar standing, receive financial help from those teams that are better equipped to compete in today’s baseball marketplace. In 2006, Kansas City received $32 million, money that was spent on (among other things) increasing the team’s payroll to a competitive level, making improvements to an already world-class minor league farm system, and providing those working behind the scenes with the best in modern amenities, such as Windows 2000 computers with 64 MB of RAM and access to the Super Information Highway.

The signing of superstars like pitcher Gil Meche and second basemen Mark Grudzielanek, and the emergence of would-be stars like Alex Gordon and Tony F. Pena, are just the beginning of what I hope to be prosperous times in Kansas City. With hard work, dilligence, and a modicum of luck, the proposed sales tax increase will make a good-as-new Kauffman Stadium a reality. The revenues garnered by these improvements, combined with revenue sharing monies, will help make the Kansas City Royals as profitable a franchise as my former company, Wal-Mart. That’s what I want, and I hope you do, too.

David Glass bought the Kansas City Royals in 2000 for $96 million. According to Forbes‘ annual ranking of MLB team valuations, the team is now worth $282 million.

Big Jim Potzrebie’s “IT’S A FACT”

Posted on by Big Jim Potzrebie · 2 Comments

big jim
IT’S A FACT: Former Cardinals and Mets outfielder Vince Coleman owns half a dozen parrots and cockatiels, all named “Vince Coleman.”

IT’S A FACT: Ageless knuckleballer Tim Wakefield drinks three two-liter bottles of Mountain Dew prior to every start. He says the sugar and caffeine keeps him energized, and the constant gas keeps him from overthrowing.

IT’S A FACT: Cincinnati manager Jerry Narron speaks flawless Russian, and has turned down several offers to work for the U.S. State Department.

IT’S A FACT: Derek Jeter’s patented jump-throws are a tribute to his childhood idol, Olympic high jump pioneer Dick Fosbury.

IT’S A FACT: At every major league baseball game, 50 seats are set aside for the Friends of Abner, a little-known “advisory group” which has existed since the founding of the National League. Confirmed members include John D. Rockefeller, Ty Cobb and Dean Rusk.

IT’S A FACT: Delmon Young, who memorably flipped a bat at an umpire last year in the minors, is having a nice season so far. Many people don’t remember that Brooks Robinson once kneed an official scorer in “the bad area” after a questionable “error,” and that Ty Cobb killed more than ten umpires in his career.

IT’S A FACT: The ball showcased in the National Baseball Hall of Fame as being from Len Barker’s 1981 perfect game was in fact purchased by Barker from a local sporting goods store. The actual game ball continues to sit in Barker’s den, where it will reside until “those Nazis from the Hall come to pry it from [Barker’s] cold, dead hands!”

T’S A FACT: Oakland infielder Bobby Crosby is an avid stamp collector with a collection of over 2,500 stamps. The centerpiece of his collection: a 1983 irregular depicting Babe Ruth at the plate, naked.

IT’S A FACT: Former Pirates’ catcher Ed Ott holds two unique distinctions: slowest time from home to first base, and shortest full name.

IT’S A FACT: The four consecutive home runs hit by the Red Sox Saturday against Yankees rookie pitcher Chase Wright were the most ever by a Boston team against a Yankees rookie pitcher named Chase Wright.

IT’S A FACT: All-star pitcher “Sad Sam” Jones’ 1971 death certficate has been certified as a forgery; Jones himself vanished after gaining popular notoreity as mystery airline hijacker D. B. Cooper.

IT’S A FACT: Despite his opposition to American capitalism, Marxist revolutionary Leon Trotsky was a passionate fan of baseball, particularly of the Boston Braves. His failed attempts to set up a “People’s League” in the first years following the revolution precipitated his split with Josef Stalin and his eventual exile from the Soviet Union.

IT’S A FACT: Red Sox slugger Manny Ramirez asked for grievance leave when he learned about the “death” of Captain America. After consulting with team officials, he decided to remain in the everyday lineup and dedicate this season to his hero.

IT’S A FACT: Big Jim Potzrebie’s Used Motor Vehicles is celebrating “Christmas in May” all next month; prices on new and used Nissans, Daewoos, and vintage DeLoreans are lower than Mark Wegner’s strike zone…and twice as crazy!!!

Big Jim Potzrebie is the founder and CEO of Big Jim Potzrebie’s Used Motor Vehicles of Milwaukie, Canby, Drain, Dufur, Happy Valley, Barlow, Estacada, and Aurora, Oregon.

Three Baseball Whiz-Bang Hot-Shots!

Posted on by Tom Peters · Leave a comment

peters 2
I have always been a fan of bold business management — or anti-management! So it should be no surprise that I am very interested in the business of baseball. Not only is it a very BIG business, but it’s also the national pastime. (Hot Dogs! Cracker Jacks! Bobble-head Dolls! I love it! Gimmicks, gimmicks, gimmicks!)

I’m always thrilled to see “new jacks” like Theo Epstein coming up with revolutionary new ideas. I loved it when they won the World Series in 2004. (So did their stockholders, and a whole lot of guys named Sully!) But business moves at the speed of light — or should I say at the speed of a Joel Zumaya fastball? — (I think I WILL say that.), and the Red Sox haven’t won anything for two years now…they’re out! Over! Done! Finito! Theo who?

So who are the new crazy chaos-friendly filibusters in MLB? The movers, the shakers, the go-to guys of our new modern hardball information age? Let’s check out three case studies; these franchises are pointing the way for the rest of the league. Don’t be surprised if they’re not the next three champs, of both the World Series AND the marketplace. (I know I won’t be! Surprised, that is.)

1: The Pittsburgh Pirates.
First of all, let’s start with the name: PIRATES. (Bandanas! Peg Legs! Scurvy! Friggin’ in the Riggin’! I love it!) (I really do.) This storied franchise debuted beautiful PNC Park in 2001 — it’s a stadium fit for a grand, colorful, tooth-missing pirate crew, and its like-minded blue-collar fans. (Lesson One: If You Build It, They Will Come!) Brilliant move, also, to incorporate a new color into the traditional yellow-and-black. That color? Red, natch. What better color for a blood-thirsty, plank-walk-forcing, keelhauling franchise? Forget those two boring colors that generations of Americans associate with the franchise — any company that is afraid to destroy its own branding efforts is a company that deserves to fail. (Lesson Two: Don’t Be Afraid to Blow It Up and Start Over!) And pirates never fail!

Well, except on the field sometimes. It’s true that the Bucs have not done all that well in the standings as of late. This irks some people who don’t see the big picture. (What is that big picture? Read on, I’m about to tell you.) The big picture, of course, is that Pittsburgh just isn’t a very big place, and the team doesn’t have very much money. (There’s a reason that the country’s biggest city has its most successful team! Namely, money! Cabbage! Benjamins! Sponduliks!) But they’re still operating at a modest profit, which a lot of bigger businesses — and teams — would kill to be able to say. (And if that isn’t the big picture, I’ll eat my own foot in a light cream sauce.)

And sure, lately, some nattering nabobs of negativity have carped and cavilled about how the team doesn’t really want to win. But come on, the Pirates are fine! Jason Bay is a great slugger, one of the top talents in the National League. You have last year’s batting champ, Freddy Sanchez, and up-and-comer Ronny “Hit and Run” Paulino on the same squad as uber-hustler Jack Wilson and fleet-of-foot Chris Duffy. Hurlers like Ian Snell and Tom Gorzelanny are developing into Cy Young darkhorses. Manager Jim Tracy will get a lot out of these young bargain-basement types, because that’s what he does best. (Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum for Cap’n Jim!) That’ll teach those nabobs!

2. The Kansas City Royals.
Even among people who don’t know anything about baseball, the Royals are somewhat of a national joke. (My four-year-old niece recently asked me, “Who’s the team in the pretty blue uniforms?” Hey, if you can’t penetrate the youth market, you might as well just give up trying to penetrate ANYTHING!) But let me just remind you about another horrible team from just a few years ago: the Detroit Tigers, who in 2003 almost lost more games than any team in history. Yet there the Tigers were last fall, playing in the World Series against St. Louis. ((So what if they completely imploded once they got there? Lesson Three: Spectacular Failure Is the New Success!)

So if history is any judge, Kansas City will be the best team in the AL in … about … another year! Better hop on that bandwagon now, my friends, because soon all the chubby kids will be taking up all the best hay bales and you’ll have to sit up front with the creepy horse driver guy.

The Royals were having a tough time until this year. But hey, wouldn’t you have a tough time if all your best players kept leaving to take other positions? Carlos Beltran jumped ship. Johnny Damon jumped ship. Andrew Sisco jumped ship. The Royals had to suffer through the public meltdown of their hot-shot whiz-bang young pitcher, Zack Greinke, although he appears to be on the comeback trail. In the business world, we call this “brain-bleed,” when all the best brains in an organization start to all bleed at once. And no one’s brain has bled more than baby-faced Royals GM Dayton Moore, a big-city guy with a small-town budget.

But look at the steps they’re taking now! Last winter, in a stunning coup, Moore stole superstar pitcher Gil Meche from AL West powerhouse Seattle. Take that, Jet City…and the rest of the American League! They have managed to hold onto sparkling, fresh-faced, light-skinned tyros like David DeJesus, Mark Teahen, Alex Gordon, and Ryan Shealy, who have shown that they are just as good as other players in the league, and maybe better. (Lesson Four: Build From Within, or Wither on the Vine and Die!)

But the team’s true masterstroke is the way they’re getting people into the park. Take a look, if you will, at the Royals’ inspiring promotional schedule. Three different Build-a-Bear Workshop nights! (That’ll penetrate for sure.) Cookie Rojas Bobblehead Day! A cooking clinic by the Royals’ Wives! (And some of them can certainly cook, if you know what I mean.) (And you probably do.) (What I’m saying is, they have big breasts.) With all this buzz, KC will soon be back in the catbird seat…and that’s the best seat in town.

3. The Philadelphia Phillies.
My intern, Jennifer Ochoa, is from Philadelphia. When she heard that I had chosen the Phillies for the third slot here, she snorted through her perky nose in an adorable manner. “The Phillies? Are you serious, Mr. Peters? They’re the worst-run team in all of professional sports, and that includes semi-pro leagues in Honduras where the losing coach gets all, like, sacrificed into a volcano and shit!”

I watched her guffaw her way into a frenzy that left her rolling around and gasping for breath on the floor, a fetching sight indeed. (Lesson Five: Surround Yourself With Youth, and Nubility!) Fire flashing in her onyx eyes, bosom heaving, Jennifer continued to list the franchise’s sins. “The Scott Rolen fiasco! The Bobby Abreu fiasco! The Ryan Howard / Jim Thome kerfuffle! Did they ever get anything for Plácido Polanco? How about how they waited forever to bring up Chase Utley, who even a blind man could see would tear up the league? What was with Ed Wade’s late-tenure fixation with giving massive contracts to crappy bullpen guys? They signed David Bell even though there is no constitutional amendment saying they had to! Jerry Manuel threatened to beat up a reporter the other day! ¡Nombre de Díos, Wes Helms is our starting everyday third baseman!”

To which I could only reply, “But I have Ryan Howard on my fantasy team.”

She spat, “You got something else on your fantasies too, old man, but it ain’t worth it. Plus you know nothing about baseball, or about business either. I quit.” And away she flounced. (Lesson Six: Sometimes, They Flounce Away. Cry Piteously to Yourself for a Few Minutes, Then Move on With Your Life!)

So that didn’t end well. But I met Pat Gillick one time and I think he’s a real whiz-bang hot-shot. Phillies in 2010!

Tom Peters is a world-renowned business guru and the author of such classic tomes as In Search of Excellence, Thriving on Chaos, and The Pursuit of WOW!. He is currently looking for a new intern, hopefully in a women’s size 10.

I Believe the Attorney General

Posted on by Alex Rodriguez · Leave a comment

arod.jpgAttorney General Alberto Gonzales has come in for a lot of criticism over the past couple of days, and I think that’s too bad. I admit that I’m not exactly up on the details of the controversy, since I’ve spent the last month concentrating on seeing the ball good, and taking it one day at a time, which (to be fair) is my job, and which has worked out pretty good, I think.

But I met the Attorney General several times, back when I was with the Rangers, and he always seemed like a good guy, a friendly guy, very pleasant and agreeable. After the game on several occasions, I’d get a call from Mr. Hicks inviting me to the owner’s box, and there he would be, sitting with the President, and Mr. Hicks and sometimes Condoleeza Rice. The President and Mr. Gonzales were usually on the way to or from one of his summer vacations in Crawford, and they’d stop by the Ballpark when they could, as guests of Mr. Hicks.

The President was always in a good mood when he was at the Ballpark, even after a Rangers loss, talking about all the good times he had as an owner of the club, and you could see that Mr. Gonzales felt the same way, even though he didn’t talk much. It’s funny, he always struck me as kind of a shy and quiet guy, and I couldn’t help but feel bad for him when I happened to catch a bit of his recent appearance at Congress on the TV in the weight room. (Ever since he went on the DL, Mussina spends pretty much every minute rehabbing while watching C-SPAN.) Really, I can barely remember one thing he said to me… he mostly just smiled and nodded at what the President was saying, but in a very friendly way.

It’s funny, one thing I do remember… I’ve met a lot of Hispanic politicians and political figures over the years, and when they speak to me, they almost always make a point of speaking in Spanish. Which is fine. Obviously, I’m perfectly comfortable speaking Spanish or English. But the Attorney General was the only Hispanic political person I can recall meeting who pretty much spoke only English to me. Again, really, he didn’t say more than ten words to me, but that stuck with me. And to be honest, I kind of respected that. A lot of Hispanic politicians try to make a point of being mi hermano, you know? Which I totally understand. I mean, that’s politics. But not Mr. Gonzales. It was like he wasn’t trying to impress anybody. He just seemed content to sit there and be a nice, friendly guy.

So like I said, I felt kind of bad for him, sitting there and trying to answer those questions from the Congress. And even though I don’t really follow the news, it’s hard not to notice that the press has been coming down kind of hard on him, which I totally understand. I’ve been there. It’s hard to do your job when everyone’s trying to kick you when you’re down. But the media’s always like that, always trying to manufacture a story, whether it’s me, or the Attorney General, or those poor soldiers stuck in that Abu Gharib mess. Sometimes it’s all I can do to just say, “Hey, buddy, just go rake your mud somewhere else, OK? I’m just doing my best over here.”

So I want to echo the President’s words and say that Attorney General Gonzales has my full confidence, and I’m sure he’s doing everything he can to be the best Attorney General he can be, which is all anyone can ask of him. I’m pretty sure those Congressmen and guys on the news have never been under the kind of day-to-day pressure that Mr. Gonzales is, and I think they could stand to go a lot easier on him. Like I said, I’ve been there. When I was going through my slump last year, you heard all sorts of people saying I should be traded, that I was washed up, and all sorts of other stuff like that. But had any of those talk radio guys or newspaper writers actually stood in the batter’s box against guys like Johan Santana and Roy Halladay and Curt Schilling? No way. And as much as I tried to make that clear, and that I was doing the best I could, it was like no one wanted to hear it or believe it.

Honestly, I think that’s what’s going on here. I think Mr. Gonzales is probably a nice guy who hit a patch of bad luck, like a pitcher who got tagged with a loss because some of the guys made some tough errors behind him. That’s a rough place to be, whether you’re the pitcher, or the guy who made the errors, or just one of the fans, or the Attorney General, or whatever. It’s just a tough situation. Running the country is like being part of a ballclub… you win or lose as a team, and it’s never just one guy’s fault.

So I believe in the Attorney General, and I think the best thing for this country would be for everyone to just back off a little, and give him some room to answer his critics, kind of like I’ve been able to do. I hope that for once, the media can just get over whatever grudges they’re holding and help bring America together. After all, I wasn’t a Yankee on September 11, 2001, but I know about the pain and heartbreak New York went through that day, and nothing means more to me than knowing that every one of my record-setting home runs for the month of April has helped to heal this city from the scars of that terrible day.

So to borrow a saying from my good friend Manny Ramirez, I think we’ve all got to just let Attorney General Gonzales be Attorney General Gonzales, and give him some “head space.” I know there’s no real off-season in politics. But maybe they can work something out where Mr. Gonzales can just take a few months off, do a little training, give him a chance to read up on some laws or something and come back in better shape than before. I think if everyone in the press and in the Congress could just cool off for a while, they’d see that Mr. Gonzales is actually a pretty terrific Attorney General and a nice guy who’s got feelings too. And then Mr. Gonzales can come back rested and focused, and win a lot of cases or arrest some bad guys or fire a bunch of prosecutors or do whatever being a good Attorney General is all about.

I know that there are already a couple of great players who go by the nickname “A-Gonz,” like the Reds’ Alex Gonzales and the Padres’ Adrian Gonzales, both of whom I consider to be fantastic players and really good friends. But I think it’d be a really nice gesture if they could maybe give up their nicknames for a little while and let the Attorney General be known as “A-Gonz.” Because he’s earned it, and he could use a little pick-me-up right now. And like Alex and Adrian know, there’s nothing that helps an A-Gonz more than knowing that A-Rod is pulling for you and considers you a good friend.

Alex Rodriguez has donated the maximum $2,300 to the primary campaign of Republican presidential candidate Rudy Giuliani.

Kiss My Goddamn Ornithologically Incorrect Ass

Posted on by The Cartoon Bird · 3 Comments

os-logo-smaller.gif

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.

A Word From Our Editor: Let’s Vote For Us (Or Someone Else)!

Posted on by Ward York · Leave a comment

yorkward.jpg

Hello. Yard Work Editor Ward York here. I hope you’re enjoying the excitement that comes with the first few weeks of exciting baseball. There are some great stories already this year – Jimmy Rollins leading the National League in home runs, Alex Rodriguez answering critics that he can’t hit when it matters, the welcome return of Sammy Sosa and his chase for 600, Ramon Ortiz tied for the lead in American League wins – and I know there might be more stories to comes as the year winds up through the summer, fall, and possibly even the winter. And I really hope you’ll come to us for these stories, for that Yard Work spin you can’t get anywhere else. Except Yard Work.

But I’m not here to talk about you possibly reading us. I’m here to talk about you possibly voting for us. As you probably don’t know, it’s time to once again (maybe for the first time) to vote for the Blogger’s Choice Awards. We are trying to make Yard Work eligible for both Best Sports Blog and Best Humor Blog, since Yard Work is both funny and sporty. Unfortunately, the Blogger’s Choice Awards interface doesn’t allow us to renominate ourselves even though we’ve already been nominated (according to their website). We’re hoping to get this straightened out soon so every one of you can vote for us, and no votes go to Wil Wheaton or Rosie O’Donnell or Jay Leno’s intern by mistake.

However, like I said, you can’t find us on the Blogger’s Choice Awards site just yet. When you search for “yard work”, you end up finding only one site – The Graveyard, an entertaining little journey through the eyes of a man working, ironically enough, at a graveyard. And, as luck would have it, the blog is a nominee as Best Entertainment Blog. In place of you being able to vote for Yard Work, we would like you to vote for our spiritual brother, The Graveyard, instead. Here is a button that you can click to go to the site and vote for The Graveyard, right here:

This site called The Graveyard was nominated for Best Entertainment Blog!

As has been said many times in many cities, vote early, and vote often! If you were going to vote for us, but can’t, vote for The Graveyard. If you weren’t going to vote for us, vote for The Graveyard. And, if you can, vote for Yard Work, whether you were going to or not. And let us know if you voted, for us or against us – leave a comment, or send us an e-mail at Yard.Work@gmail.com! We promise that we won’t give out your contact information to anyone that won’t compensate us for our trouble, unless you let us, or not.

Thanks again. And, as always, thanks.

HOT DOCUMENT: The numbers are not good.

Posted on by Charlie Barnasta · Leave a comment

barnasto.jpg

Fm: Charlie Barnasta [mailto:charliebee@mlb.com]
Sent: Sunday, April 15, 2007, 11:42 PM [PST]
To: Bud Selig [mailto:budselig@mlb.com]
Subj: JR Day

Buddy..

The numbers are not good. We’ve run them twice, and there’s no two ways about it: Our memorail [sic] day in honor of Jackie was a bust.

Our anonymous contacts in polling community have come through loud and clear: In nearly every category, Af-Am appreciation for our game is tanking or stagnant.

There were a few bits of good news. Name recognition of Jackie is at a recent high. And most people who knew his name could identify the sport he played. Yeah, it’s sad that’s even a question on the poll.

But overall Af-Am attitudes towards baseball? Down. You know what poll position got the most negative response? “I consider baseball a ‘Black sport.'” They said most people laughed before answering. One person gave a 2. The rest… all 1’s.

And consider this (and I tell you, this made me mad,) less than 40% of the Af-Am population can name the last WS winner! Less than 20% can name last year’s NL MVP! Granted, the sample includes women and some children, but still, that number is scray.[sic] When the interviewers pushed them, most said Barry Bonds. I gotta say, that made me mad and disappointed. After all that Jackie went through for them, and they can’t bother to know who Ryan Howard is. (One of our best Af-Ams, I don;t need to remind you!) What can I say, it offends me… I can’t help it.

Buddy, I’m not gonna lie to you. This is a bullet in the balls, no two ways. This is not where we want to be in a Post-Imus Environment. I think we have one shot to get them back… one more chance before we lose them forever.

I think that there’s only one way to demonstrate to the Af-Ams that we’re serious about the Af-Am heritage of our sport. I think the only option left is an ad hoc plan that some of us around here in Marketing have taken to calling Total Jackie.

It’s a comprehensive system of strategies and promotions designed to maximize Jackie’s (and our) penetration into the market. We’d have to wait “˜til next year to roll out most of them, though the situation may be dire enough that we can deploy one or two now, assuming we act no later than tomorrow.

TOTAL JACKIE dictates that we saturate the flow with Simple Symbolic Gestures (or as we call them, Simbolics (TM)). For example, in addition to and on top of standard (i.e, this year’s) program…

–Every team “hires” (honorary) an underprivileged Af-Am batboy. The kids get to wear #42 for the entire JRM weekend.

–In selected stadiums, selected Af-Am players (wearing #42 natch) take the field in opening ceremony that includes breaking through symbolic multi-hued banner–the COLOR BARRIER–to take his position.

–All ballparks observe a 42-second moment of silence after the 42nd pitch of the game (by the home team… though policy might also be observed for visiting team as well, esp. if it’s the Dodgers, or a team with many popular Af-Am players).

–Every five/ten years from now on, one major Af-Am star will legally change his name to “Jackie Robinson”. (This one could be a go for tomorrow. KGJr has already said yes.)

-Visualize Row #42… in every stadium… totally filled with Af-Am guys!

The key is: Keep emphasizing simple, effective visual/viral strategies like these. Meanwhile, we simultaneously pursue other cross-platform opportunities. We’ve already scheduled a meeting with EA Sports to discuss the feasibility of proposed “Jackie Robinson Baseball 1947” video game/simulation, where you get to play as baseball’s greatest hero… “Sure, you and Pee Wee Reese can turn the double play for the Dodgers with our unique gaming engine…but can you keep your cool when enduring racist taunts from the stands?” We’ve already locked up top voice talent, including John Ratzenberger, Cree Summer, and Michael Richards (uncredited) as Dixie Walker.

And I admit I’m very excited about a possibility one of our partners brought to us… If the cards break right, we could be looking at a major retitle, i.e, (hope you’re sitting down!) The Jackie Robinson Chevrolet Home Plate. An incredible opportunity to bring Chevy trucks to every MLB team (& selected MLB staff), while at the same time bringing the Power of Chevy (TM) to grow our inner cities. It’s incredibly inspirational and I can’t wait to have Steve pitch you.

But I want you to know that the team and I are 100% behind Total Jackie and ready to make this happen. Because I believe in the Af-Am community. I believe we can get them back. I know it won’t be easy. But hey, you think about all that Jackie went through, and it puts it all in perspective, right? I believe in Jackie, and I’m ready to bring about Total Jackie in his honor. That’s what Jackie means to me, and you know that he does, Buddy.

Try to get some sleep, I know it won’t be easy. But honestly, for all the shitty numbers, I believe that somewhere out there Jackie is smiling. I believe in my heart we did good. I made it to LA in time and Christ if I didn’t get a little choked up seeing those #42s. And Thome… total hero. There’s a guy who can break down barriers for you.

Keep hope alive, Buddy. We shall overcome.
Charlie

Charlie Barnasta was fired from his position as Director of Special Events and Promotions for Major League Baseball seven hours after composing this e-mail.

Big Jim Potzrebie’s “IT’S A FACT”

Posted on by Big Jim Potzrebie · Leave a comment

big jim
Hi there sports fans! As the founder and CEO of Big Jim Potzrebie’s Used Motor Vehicles, I’m just as pleased as punch to sponsor this weekly “infotisement” on my favorite baseball site. Let’s get ready to rumble…and learn some facts!

IT’S A FACT: Tigers third baseman Brandon Inge credits his improved 2006 power numbers to extensive videotape examination of his swing. However, it wasn’t until halfway through the season that Inge realized that the player he was scrutinizing wasn’t himself, but long-retired veteran Mike Ivie, who wore Inge’s #15 in a brief end-of-career stint with Detroit. Inge failed to notice the two-letter difference in the name on the back of “his” uniform thanks to the degraded quality of the 1982 video footage.

IT’S A FACT: In the spring of 1988, unable to choose which talented youngster should succeed Willie Upshaw as Toronto’s first baseman, General Manager Pat Gillick orders Fred McGriff and Cecil Fielder to settle the question themselves — with an arm-wrestling contest. To the surprise of much of the team, McGriff prevails, sending Fielder into a season-long sulk and eventually to Japan.

IT’S A FACT: Every single major league player named “Aurelio” has played for the Detroit Tigers.

IT’S A FACT: Carlos Delgado’s successful bunt single against the shift was the first successful bunt of his 13-year career. It also fulfilled the last wish of the big first baseman’s father, a committed Marxist revolutionary in Puerto Rico; on his deathbed, Jorge Delgado whispered to his son, “Carlito, déles la bola pequeña para mí… ¡y para la revolución!”

IT’S A FACT: Rookie Tampa Bay shortstop Ben Zobrist was a founding member of noize band Wolf Eyes. Although there was much allure in wearing a gorilla mask and hitting the same guitar string with a drumstick for 75 minutes, he eventually chose baseball.

IT’S A FACT: Dmitri Young is swiftly becoming a leader in the Nationals clubhouse, a role he has been wary about embracing in the past. In fact, the Nats’ younger players are learning more from him than just baseball; he conducts daily civics lessons in the shower, using the massive tattoo of all 43 U.S. presidents that adorns his back. “There’s space on there for whoever’s next,” claims the well-muscled slugger, whose personal favorite is James K. Polk.

IT’S A FACT: Carlos Beltran can solve the Rubik’s Cube in 28 seconds — 64 seconds while blindfolded!

IT’S A FACT: Eddie Mathews, the star third baseman for the Milwaukee Braves, was featured on the very first cover of “Sports Illustrated” magazine in 1954. If one looks closely at this picture, one can faintly discern a skinny fan in the stands who is apparently not wearing any pants. Thanks to 21st century imaging technology, experts have now positively identified the young Braves enthusiast. His name? Allan Huber “Bud” Selig, Jr.

IT’S A FACT: Big Jim Potzrebie’s Used Motor Vehicles has a lot full of hot numbers just waiting for the right home. Cadillacs, Yugos, Cooper Minis, Handa scooters, vintage Toro riding lawn mowers…at Big Jim Potzrebie’s Used Motor Vehicles, we have it all. (And we promise to always be wearing pants!) Come on down and kick a tire or two!

Big Jim Potzrebie is the founder and CEO of Big Jim Potzrebie’s Used Motor Vehicles of Milwaukie, Canby, Drain, Dufur, Happy Valley, Barlow, Estacada, and Aurora, Oregon.

Ninety Feet, Nine Inches, Year Zero

Posted on by Jim DeRogatis · 9 Comments

trent.jpg

Sun-Times music critic Jim Derogatis braves a wild April snowstorm and heads to Cleveland to learn more about Nine Inch Nails’ frontman Trent Reznor’s love for music and baseball

Trent Reznor takes a long drag from his cigarette before pausing to take a gulp of watery coffee on a cold afternoon in Cleveland. He’s well into the promotional tour for the new Nine Inch Nails album, titled “Year Zero”, which is currently passing through Jacobs Field, home of baseball’s Cleveland Indians. That might not seem like an conventional stop for Reznor, but then again, perhaps you don’t know as much about the man as you thought. The industrial music godfather hasn’t missed an Indians home opener in 22 years. Today, I’ve made the four hour drive from Chicago to Cleveland to watch the Indians play their home opener (Reznor’s 23rd straight!) against the Seattle Mariners. Along the way, I’m hoping to find out more about his new album, his mental state of mind, and his obsession with the national pastime. As we walk toward Jacob’s Field, it’s clear from the start that Reznor has a lot on his mind, and today that doesn’t include his psychedelic new single, “My Violent Heart”.

“I want to feel good about the Cleveland Indians’ chances this year”, he says, taking another sizeable sip of coffee, “but I just don’t know. They’ve underperformed relative to their third-order winning percentages each of the past three years.” I haven’t a clue what Reznor is talking about, but the words are spoken in the forlorn, despaired tone that we’ve come to expect from the moody industrial rocker over the course of his 18-year career. When Trent Reznor is feeling miserable, all is right with the world.

He continues, his blue eyes burning holes through my neck and toward the panoramic view of the baseball stadium that looms before us. “I’m starting to think that this team will never make it over the hump. I grew up watching the Indians fail year in and year out. It was depressing. That’s one of the reasons I moved to LA, just to get away and escape from it all.” Indeed, Reznor built his reputation on the twin pillars of doom and angst, helping to drag alternative music kicking and screaming into the mainstream in the early 1990’s. Classic NIN songs such as “Head Like A Hole” and “Closer” became sizeable hits, went into heavy rotation on MTV, and helped turn Reznor into a global superstar. But his recent fame belies his more humble beginnings, living most of his childhood in a modest two-bedroom home in Mercer, Pennsylvania. He was raised by his grandmother, an otherwise gentle woman with a fierce aversion to the goth, disco, and punk music that Reznor loved while growing up.

As we approach our Gate 7 entrance to the stadium, it dawns on me that Reznor hasn’t bothered to inform me that the game has been postponed. It is unseasonably cold in Cleveland, and several inches of snow still cover the playing field. But Reznor is undeterred. The security guards are all NIN fans, and after a few autographs and handshakes from the hands that tackled many an unsuspecting synthesizer, we find ourselves alone in the stadium, shoes crunching in the snow near the visitors’ dugout.

“I went through some tough times with my grandmother” recalls Reznor, “we were Indians fans and the team was a laughingstock. We were perennial AL East basement dwellers and played in the worst park in all of baseball, if not all of sports.” In later years, Reznor moved to Cleveland and worked a dead-end job in a small downtown studio. His local environment had a profound effect on his fledgling music career. “Grandma and I used to go to ten or twelve games a year”, states Reznor with a slightly devilish twinkle in his glistening eyes, “but the outcomes were almost never good. We saw them get pounded 14-2 by the Yankees on a frigid April afternoon. I hear people complaining in Cleveland this year, what with the foot of snow and all, but they don’t have a f***ing clue what pain is. Grandma and I froze our asses off in the old Municipal Stadium and it was just horrible. In fact, she never attended another game after that, she refused to go every time I invited her from then on. I went home that night and tried to capture the feeling in a song. You must know that feeling, the feeling of suffering in a punishing environment you can’t control? So I wrote ‘Down In It’ about that day, about that game. It poured out of the pit of my stomach in maybe fifteen minutes. I even went back there in the middle of the night with a portable sampler and recorded the sound of wind whipping around the outskirts of the stadium. You can hear those sounds in the intro to the song.”

Even though Reznor became an unlikely star in the wake of the multimillion-selling “The Downward Spiral”, the money and fame did little to cheer him up. Between his controversial second album and the gargantuan, long-awaited follow-up “The Fragile”, he had well-publicized bouts of drug addiction and extreme depression. Even the sudden emergence of the Indians as one of the AL’s premier teams did little to alleviate his famously caustic disposition. In fact, rather than alleviate his problems, the Indians exasperated them even further.

“We had it all wrapped up in 1997”, says Reznor, shuddering. Rubbing my face to try to restore the blood to my cheeks, I strain to concentrate on his emotional words. I long ago recommended that we continue the interview somewhere other than a cold, empty stadium, but Reznor consistently shrugs off my suggestions to leave. His eyes briefly become moist before his entire face clenches up in anger. “But fing Mesa blew the fing save. Fernandez let the gdmn ball go through his legs in the 11th. My grandma never recovered, literally. She died one month later and I fell deeper into a depression that consumed my entire being. I became lazy, I became irritable, I was a giant fing asshole to everyone who had been close to me. I made sty decisions, I befriended Marilyn Manson, I was a mess. It was the worst time of my life.”

Is he implying that success is good for nothing other than further hardship? Becoming rich only made him more unhappy. A winning Indians ballclub got him down more than all the losing ones did. Which does he prefer?

“Don’t get me wrong — I would much rather have Sizemore patrolling center instead of Brett Butler” states Reznor firmly. “And I don’t want to revisit the old days again. Those feelings have been buried deep and I don’t want to dig them up ever again. People ask me why I don’t write songs like ‘Something I Can Never Have’ and ‘Hurt’ anymore. It’s simple. I don’t want to write those kinds of songs anymore. I don’t want to feel those feelings ever again. They were moments of personal torment that are best left in their time. ‘Something I Can Never Have’ was written after the Indians 100-loss season in 1987, it’s about wishing for a pennant, just one f***ing pennant to make the pain in my heart go away. But I’ve moved on now.”

Today’s weather aside, most people associate baseball with sunny afternoons and “Take Me Out to the Ballgame”, so you wouldn’t figure that NIN’s style of psychedelic electronic mayhem would sit well among those in the sport. Surprisingly, Reznor counts many players and executives amongst his fans, such as Red Sox GM Theo Epstein, reigning AL MVP and Minnesota Twins first baseman Justin Morneau, and Cleveland Indians musical director Lenny Weiss. It was Weiss who approached Reznor with the idea of commissioning a new piece of pre-at-bat music for Grady Sizemore. The Indians star outfielder is a longtime NIN fan and was thrilled at the idea. Although apprehensive at first, Reznor was promised complete creative control and found it to be an offer that he couldn’t refuse. Despite his notoriously glacially slow workrate, he confidently claims that he will deliver the piece to the team before the All-Star Break. “It’s a way for me to give something back to the team after all these years”, says Reznor. “I called the new record ‘Year Zero’ because the AL Central hasn’t been this wide-open in a long time. This is it for Cleveland, it’s their year zero, it’s their time to step up. I want to contribute a small part of myself to the team. If it helps them find success, then maybe my soul can find some rest.”

By now it is late afternoon and the groundskeeping crew has given up for the day. They’re hoping to get the game in tomorrow, but nothing is certain. After quietly mumbling — to nobody in particular, it seems — about what Joe Charbonneau would do in our situation, Reznor heads down the right field line with a shovel and begins digging. I contemplate whether to follow him out there, but in the end I decide to leave him alone with his thoughts. At least for now, Trent Reznor appears to have found some rest for his soul right here on this empty baseball field.