Some of baseball’s Hall of Fame voters are idiots. We know this because every single year they do stupid shit like lose their ballots, over- or under-peruse player statistics, mock the system by handing their vote over to a third party, and just generally make decisions from a moral high ground so lofty and full of bullshit that the average person can’t simply fathom the pompous arrogance that goes into an act as simple as voting.
This isn’t a difficult process, either. Members of the Baseball Writers Association of America are given a single sheet of paper upon which is printed the names of eligible ex-players. Beside each name is a check-box. Voters are then asked to check up to 10 boxes corresponding with the names of the players they’d choose to induct to the Hall of Fame. This is easier than correcting your neighbor’s elementary school math homework. And yet there are those who can’t complete the process without suffering an aneurysm because, well, who the hell really knows.
Continue reading You Better Induct Edgar Martinez Into the Hall of Fame
Happy new year, everyone! While sitting in the bathroom scrolling through the same old boring articles on staid pages run by conglomerations, you probably wondered once or twice how this lovely site would make its 2015 debut. Well, wonder no more.
I’ll admit I considered going a different route. I had pondered a long, lovely, flowing piece on the year behind us and the year ahead. Something beautiful, perhaps, that possibly evoked a tear or two. And in time, that article may come. But then I went back to the gutter and resorted to what it is some say this website does best (or worst, depending on your perspective).
And so, with all the brimming positivity undoubtedly polluting your life these days, we bring you three things that are really bugging the crap out of us, in this, the second installment of our recurring series An Open Vent. Because no matter what other people say, there’s nothing wrong with getting those panties in a bunch sometimes.
1. Funding fanaticism.
Continue reading An Open Vent: Funding Fanaticism, Resolutionaries, and the Ineptitude of Community Centers
January 8th, 2011 …
… versus December 21st, 2014
You wanted Melky Cabrera. Melky Cabrera signed with the White Sox.
You would have settled for Alex Rios. Alex Rios signed with the Royals.
There are few, if any, starting right fielders left on Major League Baseball’s free agent market. But your Seattle Mariners still happen to be in search of a right fielder, market be damned. And you’re on the verge of freaking out. God forbid the team go to war with a designated hitter manning Safeco Field’s spacious nether reaches. Or worse yet, heaven help them if they bring back the likes of Ichiro.
You’re in full panic mode. But fear not, sports fan: it could be worse.
In the inaugural installment of An Open Vent, we bring you the unbridled rage surrounding three things that are unequivocally shittier than the Mariners’ seemingly futile pursuit of an outfielder. So sit back, relax, and prepare to get even more pissed off than you were before.
1. Mr. Playoffs.
Continue reading An Open Vent: What’s Worse Than the Mariners’ Pursuit of a Right Fielder?
In fairness to the mantra uttered by members of San Francisco’s steadily eroding fan base, the 49ers did indeed achieve a Quest for Six on Sunday afternoon.
With just over thirteen minutes remaining in the first half, the frail fragments of former running back Frank Gore plunged into the end zone for a sextet of points and a whopping eighty-six-percent of San Francisco’s scoring output on the day. Seconds later, a keen ear could almost make out the resonating sound of Gore’s Life Alert Emergency Response monitor, the result of the old man unexpectedly succumbing to the effects of gravity.
The Niners’ lone touchdown was supplemented only by Phil Dawson’s extra point, tacked on immediately after Gore’s jaunt to paydirt. And just like that, it was over.
If there is such a thing as moral victories, however, the visiting squad could chalk up their second quarter red zone success as exactly that. In two of the three previous games, the Seahawks had neglected to allow their foes anything more than a field goal. That San Francisco achieved a six-point score should be applauded. Quest for Six complete.
Continue reading Death of a Rivalry
I am the worst kind of basketball player. Just good enough to be dangerous, just reckless enough to be stupid. My shot selection is best witnessed through beer goggles, and my go-to move is trash talk. No one in the world would confuse me, at the age of 30, for an athlete. Yet I still find myself playing ball a few times each week, determined to whittle the cartilage in my knees down to pure nothingness.
About the only thing going for my game is how I feel. I might not play all that well, but I feel well, at least. And isn’t feeling well what really matters?
In a kind-hearted effort to keep me feeling well while (hopefully) making me look and play a little better, the good people at Strideline sent me an array of Seattle-themed socks in time for the start of the winter season. And since I’ve been wearing their gear since they first came on the scene some five years ago, I could hardly resist their offer to take on more of their goods.
Continue reading Strideline: Because Even If You Suck At Sports, Your Socks Don’t Have To
Podcasts are fun, right? Back in the day, we had a regular podcast at Sports Radio KJR, the inimitable Karate Emergency. Since then, our podcast sessions have been limited, but not on this particular day.
I had the pleasure of joining Casey McLain and Aaron Kirby as a guest on the Offspeed Podcast on Wednesday night. We talked Mariners (including both the Nelson Cruz and J.A. Happ acquisitions), Seahawks, Huskies, racist San Francisco 49ers fans, the evolution of 12s, semi-famous people from Montana, and Twitter behavior, among other things.
If you find yourself terribly bored with nothing better to do, feel free to listen in by clicking here.
And here’s a look at the two degenerates you’ll have the aural pleasure of hearing alongside yours truly: