I was watching TV last night, my laptop in front of me, trying to decide what to write about for my post today. Something funny, something interesting, something different…then the top of the ninth happened in the Yankee game. Forgive me, I promise not to make a habit of it, but I need to complain about the men in pinstripes for a little bit.
I’m postponing my epic post about Trevor Bauer because right now, I just need to vent. (You’ve been warned.)
So. The Dodgers. Yeah, you guys, over there, in the hats that match the one I’m wearing right now. One of your bench players really sucks. His name is Juan Castro, and he has a career OPS+ of 56. That’s right, his offense is 44% worse than the average Major League player. So what is he doing in the Majors? Well, posting a 7.6 UZR/150 at shortstop, but that isn’t really my point.
But let’s put that in terms that are easier for most people to understand. From 2002-2008, he’s provided a little less than a third of a win — one third of one win, over the course of 7 years — to teams on which he’s been. Let that sink in for a moment.
So. That happened.
I’ll be up front about this. I’ve been a vocal Favre hater for more than a decade now. I rolled my eyes when Madden waxed rhapsodic about Favre’s status as a gunslinger. I groaned inwardly every time someone told me that he was a ‘man’s man.’ I hated the entire city of Green Bay for unleashing him on the world.
I hated him because he (and the Green Bay Packers) stomped all my beloved New England Patriots in Super Bowl XXXI, leaving college freshman Maggie slumped on her bed wearing an expression that looked…kind of like the expression in that picture, actually. I’m bitter, I have a long memory and I learned how to hold an old-fashioned Irish grudge at my Grandma’s knee.
I tell you this only so I can explain to you, Green Bay fans, that I understand how you’re feeling right now, or how you’re going to feel if he goes through with this and suits up for the Vikings. That white hot, fiery hatred? That urge to punch that picture at the top of this post repeatedly because you can’t get the real thing in your hot little hands? The indignant, righteous and strangely helpless fury? I’m with you. I’ve been there. Hell, I’m upset on your behalf.
See, I’ve long suspected that Favre was going to end up with a plaque in the ‘Dick Move’ Hall of Fame. (The man took a dive for Michael Strahan, for God’s sake. He did the ‘I’m going to maaaaaaaybe retire, maybe not, let’s talk about me some more’ dance so many times I think Peter King performs the steps in his sleep. The writing was on the wall, people.)
The question, though, is just who he’ll be joining in the semi-hallowed, but mostly tarnished ‘Dick Move’ Hall of Fame. Come for the self-indulgence, stay for the money-grubbing.
The Cardinals’ infield has been a bit of a mess for a few seasons (with one noteable exception of course). This year, Khalil Greene has stabilized things at short, and we’re apparently turning Skip Schumaker into a second baseman, but the real uncertainty has been at third base, as three different Cardinals (none of them with significant major league experience) compete to fill Troy Glaus’s shoes until his shoulder heals.
After one week of games, each of these three men have started at least once; in five of the seven games at least two of them played the position. On Opening Day, all three got in the game. [Note: I'm writing this before Monday night's game.] But who are these young(ish) men? What’s a Joe Thurston and where did he come from? (Actual question I asked last Tuesday when I checked the score.) A primer, after the jump. Continue reading
Yes, it’s blatant homerism … but at its best, because I’m here to take you through a photo journey of Minnesota Wild goalie Niklas Backstrom – the only player from my home team to make it to the NHL All-Star game coming up.
Last Sunday, I was in the Tulsa airport preparing to fly back East, when I noticed the airport bookstore (which is locally owned), already had a sign out next to their OU merchandise reading “Congratulations Sooners! 2009 National Championship.” And that’s pretty much when I knew OU was doomed. (OK, I’m exaggerating. Kind of.)
Anyway, congratulations Florida, and also to OU for a thrilling season (with two notable exceptions, obviously). Now I will proceed to mope for the next 24 hours or so. I originally thought perhaps I’d get some solace from posting some hot athlete pictures, but the problem with that plan is that hot athletes remind me of sports which reminds me of the game. So I hope you all don’t mind if I invite my Imaginary TV Boyfriend, Lee Pace, to mope (hotly) along with me.
Each week this Hot Stove season, we’ll look at some done deals and juicy rumors involving our favorite MLB hotties, and the occasional not-really-a-hottie, but still worth talking about.
Before we get to the Hot Stove, let’s take a moment to appreciate the piece of history the NFL world bore witness to yesterday. Click on the picture for a very short, very apt summary of the Lions’ season.
Baseball stuff after the thingie.
While we all should get out to vote today, and I’m sure we’ll all be relieved to be done with the television advertisements, polls, signs and flyers, I’m here to remind you that there is another vote that must be cast. The Major League Baseball 2008 This Year In Baseball Awards. Cast your vote here. Follow me after the break to see who I’m rooting for.
It is Red River Rivalry Eve once more, and I am at work. If I was still in college, I’d have the day off, because TPTB at the University of Oklahoma got tired of holding class on a day when half the student body was driving I-35 South. I hate being an adult.
Enough grumbling. It’s OU-TX weekend again, y’all! (College football brings out my accent. Even when I type, apparently.) Even though I’ve never been lucky enough to attend the game in person, nothing will stop me from following the game live from wherever I happen to be. Even if I am stuck in a hotel room in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan listening to the play by play as it is relayed by my friend’s father over her cell phone.
But that was last year. This year, I should actually be able to watch the game on TV — no small feat, considering I live in the Northeast and Penn State is a top ten team this year. But since this is the fifth time in the history of the rivalry that both teams are ranked in the Top 5 — guess who is number one? — not much is going to stop this game from reaching a national audience.
I think I have shown remarkable restraint in making it to my seventh week before writing a Cardinals post. But can we talk about Albert Pujols for a second?
I know, you say, he’s great. He’s always great. Next!
In case you haven’t been paying attention, the only player whose baseball card has ever been taped to my computer monitor is having not just a typical Pujolsian great year, but, in many respects, a career year. And he’s doing it on an elbow that’s apparently being held together with chewing gum and the fervent prayers of the Redbird faithful. Please humor me for a minute while I throw some numbers (and some pretty pictures) at you …
With five home runs in the final round, Justin Morneau won the Home Run Derby last night, but no one can dispute that Josh Hamilton – who notched 28 home runs in the first round and four in the second without even using all his outs – was a winner as well. When we look at them, we’re all winners…
I was asked to compete in the inaugural Iron Ref contest over at our friends Hugging Harold Reynolds. I’m competing against Blog Hotties Dewey Hammond and Chris Mottram. Dewey is the Managing Editor of Yardbarker and Chris is the Editor of The Sporting Blog. Those are big places. I’m just a lowly little Lady and Cranklet. So go vote for me here! Leave votes in the comments. I don’t need (not do I expect) to win, I just don’t want to get embarrassed.
Here is the enemy my competition (Dewey on the left, Chris on the right) because Ladies… is a blog that values cuties and I could not help but notice that they both fall into that category.
Do not be swayed by their cuteness! Vote for me!
All right, yo. In the spirit of Cinnamon Girl’s new zeal for fitness, let’s follow the example of a successful professional athlete and move, move, move! Today, we’ll look to New York Yankee Joba Chamberlain, a Nebraska native who had a sparkling run in relief last year (except that stupid bug game) and is making his first MLB start tonight.
Hey look, a former Husker! [/homerism] Get on up and dance with Joba after the jump. Continue reading
Here at Ladies…, though we are dedicated to ogling the men of the sporting world, we do like to cheer on our sisters as well. In that spirit, I just have this to say:
M-I-Z! Z-O-U! The Missouri Tigers softball team won their first NCAA Regional in Iowa City this past Sunday. They will now face the third seeded Alabama Crimson Tide in the super regional in Tuscaloosa this weekend. Read more about these ladies and their fantastic run after the jump.
Whether or not you are statistically inclined, this equation should make a lot of sense:
Facial hair = hot
At first glance, it seems so true. Yes, facial hair is hot, sometimes devastatingly so. But then…sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes grown men can’t figure out how to look in the mirror and see that the things they’ve grown on their chins are making them exponentially less attractive. These grown men, of course, are Major League Baseball players, whose facial hair offenses range from mildly offensive to vomit-inducing. Let’s take a journey down the path of how not to shave your face.
Oh, John Garland…can’t you see that fungus-esque bit you missed when you last shaved?
More offensive psuedobeards after the jump. Continue reading
Remember back in March when Lady A announced that as a blog we were doing an in-house bet? Well, that bet wasn’t anything too big. Whoever won the tourny pool would get a banner with their favorite hotties on it. Well, thanks to Kansas (it’s like they keep giving me reasons to love them) I won the tourny. And because of the win I get my own hottie banner. As you can see above, my banner only features my three favs: Gerald Henderson, Curtis Granderson, and Tom Brady. Why those three? Check the reason after the jump. Continue reading
As you may know, the Ladies… spent Saturday and Sunday watching and blogging the NFL Draft. Strapping young men in suits about to be come millionaires? Yes, please!
Football powers, activate!
After the jump, a look at some of the best and brightest of the draft. Keep in mind that this list is nowhere near comprehensive, as there were many, many hot men who got new jobs this weekend. These are some of my favorites. Please feel free to share your favorites in the comments.
For a college basketball fanatic as myself, there is really nothing worse than this time of year. The season is over. And for every team but stupid Kansas, it ended on a bad note. The worst part of all is the 3 or so weeks of “what if” that gets played. What if my favorite player declares early for the NBA draft? What if they all (everyone that is eligible, that is) come back and combine with our new players to create a super team that is sure to win the championship next year?! What if only some come back? What if they all leave? (Poor Memphis fans, I totally feel for you!) Then this week rolls around. The official deadline to declare for the NBA draft is April 27th, i.e. this Sunday. So today, Friday the 25th, seemed to be the day that most fans figured an announcement, if still pending, would be made. AND IT WAS!
HE”S COMING BACK FOR HIS SENIOR SEASON PEOPLE!
Usually I’m a bit of a grouch during this time of year. Football is so very far away and college basketball is about to come to an end. But this year I’m looking forward to the beginning of the baseball season. I guess following a team will do that to ya (despite soft-core porn being filmed in Comerica, I’m still going to follow the Tigers). And to celebrate the opening day (yes, I know about Boston and Oakland starting the season in Japan. Good for them) here are some of your opening day starters. My newfound Detroit bias requires me to show Justin Verlander first.
An odd item out of Clearwater in today’s Chester County Daily Local News:
As he walked off the field after six innings, [Cole] Hamels was greeted with a standing ovation from fans in the left field bleachers. A little over an hour earlier, the 24-year-old pitcher was being serenaded with a different kind of fan reaction.
“I had some great heckling in my bullpen, loved it,” said Hamels, who said both Rays and Phillies fans were yapping his way.
What are you trying to tell us, Colbert? That you like it when we say things like, “HEY HAMELS, NICE 12.60 ERA. AND YOU WANT ADAM EATON MONEY FOR THAT SHIT?!” and “DUDE, DID YOU GET YOUR HAIR HIGHLIGHTED IN THE OFF SEASON? WHAT THE HELL?!” and “I’VE SEEN YOUR WIFE’S COOTER!” OK, then. I’ll be sure to remember those gems for when I’m in Clearwater this weekend.
One year ago, a group of female Deadspinners got together and built a website that would forever alter the sportswriting landscape. Some delusions of grandeur, but whatevs.
Artwork, as always, by the one, the only, the incomparable Lady J-Money, who credits our success to the quality of our ingredients.
When we last saw our heroines, we were raising glasses to six months of this contraption. Since then….where to start? We got out of the house a little, and brought a few friends along for the ride. We stirred up a couple hornets’ nests and got our knees dirty. We launched a blatant homerism lovefest and let lust rule our fantasy drafts. We went undercover with the Mets and the Mitchell Report and got inside with the Tigers. We turned back time and had ourselves a total eclipse of the heart. We pledged our hearts to the World Series, and just about killed ourselves trying to get there, and just about GOT ourselves killed once we were…but that all worked out just fine, didn’t it? We got down and dirty with the history of Rock and championed the little guys. We came heroically close to covering every single bowl game. We said fond farewells to a fine crop of college boys, and found new targets for next year.
And the snacks. Oh, TSW’s snacky goodness. The legendary Buffalo Chicken Dip. The homemade corn dogs. The 9-Layer Ranchero Dip, K2 of snack foods. Pork with more pork. The genesis of our quiche obsession. The other Ladies got into the act, to the tune of Pudding Shots, Beer Bread, Cheese Straws, and a variety of meats and cheeses.
We celebrated (properly) the apex of football season (and then some), and marked the turning of the sports season. We got our gamble on. We gave thanks, wished on our stockings, spread holiday cheer and strove to be better fans. We found humor in the worst of times and stood up for boobs everywhere. We rassled and clawed and even screwed each other.
After the jump, some poetic and prosaic reflections on our year together.
I don’t get a chances to talk about the NBA. At least not on a daily basis. First off, I am surrounded by insufferable Laker fans. Are all Laker fans insufferable? Doubtful, but tolerable ones never seem to cross my path. Secondly, my good friend – as I have mentioned a couple of times in the past – is a die-hard Cavs fan. And while we have
no few problems managing our Steelers-Browns relationship, our Pistons-Cavs rivalry is never spoken of lest we have a repeat of the 2005 March of the Penguins blow-up or the 2004 Kyoto Protocol /Vivid Girls smackdown.
So please excuse me while I take this moment to yell, “Nine in a row! Nine in a row! The Piston’s come back in the fourth quarter to win nine in a row!”
Don’t Rasheed and Tyronn look cute hugging? Like two puppies on a valentine.
The Steelers today confirmed a Post-Gazette report three days ago that they will stick with “natural grass” at Heinz Field next season.
“The majority of our players have told us that they prefer natural grass to any artificial surface,” said club president Art Rooney II in a statement today, “and grass is also the preference of our coaches and athletic staff. We also discussed this with the University of Pittsburgh officials to make sure everyone is comfortable moving forward.” – Post Gazette 2/11/08
Awesome. I hope it rains for all of the following home games: Giants, Cowboys, Colts, Chargers, Browns, Bengals, and Ravens. (We can give the Texans a pass.) Bring on the punts that stick in the mud!
Saturday was our last chance to lay eyes on many of our NCAA honeys before the draft. Who sizzled? Who fizzled? Who’ll be fielding calls from scouts, and who’ll be sitting at home crying with their hair in hot rollers (or, as Brady Quinn calls it, “Thursday”)?
HOT: Erik Ainge, QB, Tennessee.
I may be high off of Tylenol 3, morphine, and subsisting on apple juice for the past five days, but the news that Sidney’s high-ankle sprain from Friday’s game is going to force Crosby to miss the next six to eight weeks has managed to pierce through the haze of drugs and glucose and has caused me to just ache.
This is the first time our little superstar has been hurt, and my urge to twirl him in bubble wrap and Band-Aids is overwhelming. Maybe retro-fit the boards with something softer, like cotton candy from the nice old man on the main concourse or penguin plushies from Penstation. Perhaps stop by Casa Lemieux with some soup, cookies, Yahtzee, and the box set of Futurama to help keep his mind off the pain.
It’s already helping me. Immensely.
Tennessee 21, Wisconsin 17. Not the most satisfactory of endings, but that’s appropriate, given our year. After a season of What The Hell, his game wrapped up every plot thread like a proper finale should.
I spent a good hour last night looking for video of Snoopy on YouTube. The clip of him hanging off the side of the dog house all mad and then moping on top of his home, just listlessly rolling around.
That is how I feel. If I could fling myself on my bed for a good mope without looking like a teenager I would.
Is there anything more beautiful that snow gently falling on a couple dozen of the hottest men in sports? After watching a few hours of just that in the Pens-Sabres matchup in the NHL’s Winter Classic, I would argue not.
Upper St. Clair alum Ryan Malone bendy sure is bendy…
If you listen closely (or you’re so drunk you can no longer feel your palms), it does sound kind of like Freddy Mercury’s singing “Deeeeeacs are the champions, my friends!”. Or at least it did to me for a couple of hours yesterday after watching Wake Forest’s insanely hot men’s soccer team win their first national title with a 2-1 victory over Ohio State.
Junior Marcus Tracy and sophomore Zach Schilawski each scored for the Deacs in the second half, with Schilawski netting both the game winner and a 40 point Scrabble score.
Jump with me, readers, for more about the game, more Wake Forest trivia sure to impress…um…other Wake Forest graduates, and for some delicious pics of men who aren’t allowed to use their hands. Continue reading
Is Mercury in retrograde? Have the stars knocked back a few too many cosmos (I am so sorry) at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe? I swear, I leave the internets alone for FIVE HOURS, and look at what happens:
Quack Attack, off the tracks: Oregon 24, Arizona 34. Dennis Dixon is out of commission and Oregon is out of the national title game. I wouldn’t call myself a Pac-10 homer by a long shot, but I’ve been watching a lot of Duck football this year, Dixon in particular, and whatever your allegiances, you can’t argue they’re a hell of a lot of fun to watch. That said: Losing the linchpin of your entire offense is one thing, but as far as I know Dennis didn’t maim any of his own teammates on the way off the field. A defensive collapse of this magnitude against Arizona is pretty much unforgivable, though not unexpected in the larger picture of CFB 2K7: Year of The Hell?.