*Editor’s note: With baseball season fast approaching, it’s time we gave you some insight into the world of the major league ballplayer. To kick things off, we’ve solicited the wisdom of a talented writer who also moonlights as a nanny to the stars, if you will. Revealing a behind the scenes look at the MLB lifestyle is Raija Sanford (@RSanford23 on Twitter), who you can check out on her blog here. Anyone could tell you about the Mariners’ rotation or the fate of the season-to-be. But no one else will let you in on Josh Beckett’s mockery of his pregnant wife…
By Raija Sanford
I have gone to private schools my entire life. In that circle, one hires a nanny; one does not become a nanny. But somehow, I became a nanny, and not just any nanny, a Major League Baseball nanny.
When I started babysitting for new families my friends always asked me about them and I would say, “Well, the husband plays professional baseball.” And somehow their follow-up question was always, “Oh. So what does the wife do? Why do they need a nanny?”
Larry Stone thinks Stephen Strasburg should be an All-Star. No one seems to agree with him. Except me. I feel you, Larry.
Here’s the thing. I have a theory about sports fans. If a writer proposes a semi-outlandish point of contention, self-righteous know-it-all bastard fans will seize the opportunity to showcase their knowledge in the comments section of said article by disputing the topic at hand, and simultaneously crucifying the writer in question. Yes, I just said that. Yes, I might be talking about you. Unlike Larry, no one’s paying me to write this, hence I can force you arrogant SOBs to take it right in the ‘nads.
Larry’s been trumpeting the cause for Strasburg as an All-Star for all of a few days. Throughout that duration, everyone and their mom — including Mariners manager Don Wakamatsu — has chastised Larry for his controversial opinion.
If you don’t know what ‘FUBAR’ means, Google it. I refuse to type one of the words that comprises the acronym, so you’ll just have to do your own research. See. There is a certain level of class here at Seattle Sportsnet.
Anyways, if you do know what FUBAR means, then you’ll probably agree that baseball’s Hall of Fame voting procedure is exactly that. It’s broke as a joke, and we can thank the BBWAA for ruining it.
The BBWAA stands for the Baseball Writers Association of America. I know what you’re thinking. ‘Baseball’ is one word. Hence, it should be BWAA. And yet we let these people vote.
In all seriousness, the BBWAA is a group of esteemed sportswriters with impressive credentials that spend the better part of their journalistic down time covering baseball. While the BBWAA as a whole maintains a reputation of, shall we say, holier-than-thou proportions, there are a few great baseball writers out there who we can all instill faith in when it comes to Hall of Fame voting (Larry Stone, of The Seattle Times, is a perfect example).
Tim Lincecum got busted for marijuana possession. Big deal. At least he didn’t hurt anyone. Kill anyone. Cheat the game.
On top of that, the San Francisco Giants ace and Renton, Wash. native wasn’t even under the influence when he was caught.
He just committed a slight faux pas. Had his pipe sitting out during a routine traffic stop. Whoops. We’ve all been there. Not necessarily with marijuana. But other stuff.
Maybe your porn collection was discovered.
Maybe you told a fib to get out of going to the opera, then got found out.
Maybe you cheated your diet, got caught with your pants down, or let slip a four-letter word in front of your mom. We all make mistakes. We’re human.
Fact is, I’m cool with Lincecum smoking a doobie every once in a while. I don’t smoke myself, but I absolutely condone the use of marijuana by others. It doesn’t bother me. Smoking pot then getting behind the wheel bugs me a little bit. But smoking in and of itself is no big deal. Falls right in line with alcohol consumption and frivolous sex. It fails to register on my moral code.
Think about it. How many potheads do you know that have caused serious problems in our world? You never hear about a pothead committing a heinous act against society. You don’t see potheads holding up banks, kidnapping children, or murdering anyone. Crackheads, maybe. Needle junkies, maybe. Potheads, no.
Don’t get your checkbooks out just yet, folks. I’m only speculating on Lopez’s career trajectory. But I think we can all agree that we’re thisclose to welcoming Mexico’s greatest superhero to the EQC doors in the near future.
If you’ve watched any of the MLB playoffs on TBS, you’ve likely been sidelined by an overdose of Lopezitis.
TBS is pimping Lopez’s new late-night talk show as if it were a Tyler Perry spinoff, apparently making an attempt to tap into all the Dominicans and Venezuelans that are watching their family members play on TV. Little do they know that George Lopez is neither Dominican nor Venezuelan.
But even if he were, would it really matter? Who’s going to watch his show, TBS? Answer me that. You’ve got Letterman, Conan, Kimmel, and Lopez, not to mention reruns of Family Guy (Cartoon Network), late local news, Sportscenter, and probably some scrambled porn on the high-numbered channels somewhere. There are more people out there who would rather watch scribbly boobs than witness George Lopez kill comedy.