"This word, I do not think it means what you think it means."

So, your 2007 MVP (which stands, of course, for Most Voracious Prognosticator) Jimmy Rollins thinks Phillies fans are frontrunners. He'd rather we acted like the fans in St. Louis. I wish I could've seen the look on Ryan's face as he and his hometown got pulled into Hurricane Jimmy's path of destruction (which, of course, has made most of its stops in the 1st innings of Phillies games since his return from the DL.) I can't blame you, Jim, for being a fuckin idiot, given you were already playing professional baseball by age 18, and I'm pretty sure "frontrunner" is a strictly university-level vocab word. But let me give you a quick rundown: it implies a)that the fans in question are rooting for a winning team and b)that they're new to the party. So ya know, those 3 million Phillies fans who packed the stadium last year, when Dr. Triple and the bunch stood in first place for a grand total of 3 days, they don't count for shit? All those deafening crowds which clearly got into the heads of the Mets last september, they were only there for the good times? Give me a break. I'm not gonna try to throw the one championship in 125 years thing at you, because I understand you weren't around for that. But you've been around since 2001. So I ask you, Mr. Glide, how many rings you wearin? Shut the fuck up and play baseball because there's no frontrunning team for us to be on the bandwagon of. What you surely were trying to say is you perceive Philly fans as fickle, not frontrunners, because we boo perhaps as frequently as we cheer. And lately, we especially boo you. I'm sorry if your little feelings are hurt, but trust me when I say there's nothing fickle and no frontrunning about it. Any fan who wouldn't boo a reigning MVP having statistically his worst season, getting repeatedly benched for a lack of effort and a negative attitude, and doing so all while running his usually tolerable mouth, simply doesn't care. I watched your one good game in August (which, as I worried at the time, was entirely a result of seeing Ian Snell on the mound) and more importantly, I listened to it. Mild applause each and every time you approached the plate, massive applause every time you slid into third base, as well as every time you showed off your sparkling glove and cannon arm. When you strike out on 3 pitches, or ground out feebly to second, or display your vaunted warning track power, we boo. And not, as Todd Zolecki would have you believe, because Andy Ashby was a bust...that's why we booed Andy Ashby. No, we boo you, Jimmy, because we know you're capable of better, and we know this team is capable of practically anything when you're doing it. If you wouldn't boo yourself right now, I would question your loyalty and passion as a fan. I would wonder why you even waste time watching baseball if it doesn't tear you apart inside to see your favorite team's best player acting like the last thing on earth he cares about is playing baseball. What the fuck do you want me to cheer about? Click me for the rest!

And that's why you always leave a note!

What follows is an angry letter I'll probably never send...

Dear Red Mango, Bakery Formerly Known as Beard Papa, handful of delis in my "neighborhood," and surely an army of other PinkBerry knockoffs,

Look, I understand what's going on here. PinkBerry is fucking delightful. Truly wonderful stuff. Every time I take even a little bite of it, I'm reminded of what King Gustav V of told Jim Thorpe: "you, sir, are the greatest athlete in the world." So it makes complete sense to me that you'd all feel the need to start selling frozen yogurt (which, for the uninitiated, is not Frozen Yogurt...it's normal yogurt but frozen and served from a soft serve ice cream machine) but for christ's sake, must you do literally everything exactly as PinkBerry does? The list of toppings was not brought down by Moses from Mt. Sinai. I doubt if you strayed slightly from it there'd be any kind of serious consequences, perhaps luring in customers with the promise of something not available at any of the other bullshit knockoffs: FUCKING PEACH. For God's sake what does a guy have to do? It's summer! Peaches and cream! Need I say fucking more?

Love,

Mgmt.
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I have had it with this motherfucking snake on this motherfucking plane!

I'm sorry to my reader if you get bored hearing about the Phils all the damn time, but holy shit enough is enough. The amount of agida I've had over Jimmy Rollins in 2008 makes Sundays with Donovan look like Tuesdays with Morrie. His always questionable approach at the plate has reached an all time height in its ridiculousness, to the point that he is so mechanical I can guarantee the only pitches he's taking he was taking all the way. Lately that's been a few more, but it's pretty apparent he's been getting those signs from the dugout. It doesn't take a long memory to think back to the time when Jimmy was free as a bird at the plate -- you know, like he swings -- and rarely, if ever, looked into the dugout save for in run-scoring situations. But this year, the hole he's burning in the top of the lineup has gotten to the point where Charlie clearly feels the need to micro-manage him. It's simply time for him to vacate the leadoff spot, if only temporarily, so the Phils have a chance of starting games off without the inevitable dose of 1st inning depression. I don't even need him dropped much farther than down to 2. It actually sounds kinda perfect the way Shane's getting on base and Jimmy's grounding out to 2nd. It's almost as if he's focused on trying to move Shane over before he even gets on. Regardless, I've got 5 bucks says if Jimmy leads off tomorrow, our scoreless streak extends at least one more inning. Click me for the rest!

Guess I'll just close my eyes...

...Brett Favre...a J-E-T jet jet jet? Say it ain't fuckin so. I still have no idea if I can actually root for him. Looks like Michelle (she insists I don't need to hide her name and I feel dumb doing so) might get her wish of the Steelers being my 3rd team after all. But this late night post has nothing to do with that and everything to do with my Phils, about whom I have this to say: their ONLY chance of making any kind of a meaningful go of it IN October is with at least two pitchers starting games who are not currently doing so for this team.

As spotless as his scoreline somehow remained tonight, Kendrick is an absolute abomination against lefthanded hitters, and truthfully only has one effective pitch to righties. When he's on, and facing a team which doesn't have more than a dangerous lefty or two, his sinker alone is enough to win us some games, as it did tonight. But his fastball ain't cuttin it against anyone, including righties. He needs to spend some time in Allentown IronPiggin it while he develops that fabled changeup he's abandoned the concept of throwing since the second week of June.

Which brings us to our next conundrum. Even when Gordon is healthy, the Phils' bullpen has been getting to Brad Lidge largely on smoke, mirrors, and Chad Durbin, who no one has even tried yet to pretend is an 8th inning pitcher. His dominance the last two times out aside, there's simply no greater value for Brett Myers than as an 8th inning bridge, a role which would allow him to vastly increase his postseason trade value to a team in the closer market if successful, and further ammunition for the Phils in forcing him back into the rotation if unsuccessful. I'm guessing it would go without saying to most Phils fans where I'm headed with this by now, but I'll spell it out anyway. Their spots in the rotation are then filled by a man who's already on the roster, and didn't exactly take to his first career bullpen outing very well, J.A. Happ, and recently-promoted to AAA Carlos Carrasco, the Phils' top pitching prospect.

While Happ isn't quite a strikeout pitcher, he misses his fair share of bats, has the inherent benefit of being lefthanded, and the added benefit of being new to most hitters he'd face. Carrasco is a strikeout pitcher, and continues to flash his brilliance while constantly showing signs of boredom playing for sub-.500 minor league teams filled to the brim with minor league filler at every other spot on the diamond. Perhaps a pennant race would bring out the best in him? If his first start at AAA is any indication of his performance under pressure, he'd serve us better than what we're trotting out there now. Which, don't get me wrong, I have always believed and continue to believe is the best team in the National League East and a damn good bet to repeat as its champions. But none of us want to see the Phils get booted quickly in October again, and it's just about as late as this thing can get and still ask a couple of kids to contribute anything.

All indications are this team tried to "win now" at the deadline and came up short not on effort but on tradeable prospects/the depth to trade what we got without leaving the cupboard entirely bare. Pat Gillick and his team clearly understand, then, that the future is now, and they also see JA Happ and Carlos Carrasco as valuable enough pieces of the future to have held onto them at the deadline. Neither one has anything that much left to prove in the Minors. I doubt either of them develops into a true ace, but I seem to remember a few kids named Beckett, Willis, and Penny winning a World Series five years ago. One true ace among the bunch and a couple other guys with all kinds of stuff. Hamels, Happ, Carrasco really sound so different? Throw them out there with grampa Moyer, and a bullpen which uses Lidge, Myers, Romero, Durbin, and Madson and this team could at least sniff the second week of October. I just don't think anyone can look in the mirror and tell me Kendrick, Blanton, or Myers is gonna go out there and win a playoff game. At least with the kids, we don't have a clue. Now if only SOMEONE was reading this. Click me for the rest!

Fergalicious definition make the boys go loco

So, it's been a little while since I checked in. Not a shit-ton of things going on really, but I'll bore y'all to death with my random thoughts none the less. Coming up after the jump: Brett Favre, Step Brothers, Eureka, Weeds, Baseball's playoff race, and Lollapalooza.
As most people who know me probably already know, I've never been much of a Brett Favre fan. The guy has always been completely reckless in his decision making on the football field, has one of the desert island all time top 5 egos in the history of professional sports, and over the past handful of years with regards to his retirement, he's handled himself, as Rick Reilly brilliantly pointed out, more like Cher than Jordan or Clemens or any other oft-retired superstar. I watched this unfold for weeks heaping praise on the Packers' front office constantly for finally recognizing the parasite that is Brett Favre. It's too bad they're every bit the weasels he is. Meanwhile, Aaron Rodgers has already convinced me of his poise under pressure 100-fold. Here's hoping this "open competition" (AKA this horrific mistreatment of Aaron "The Green Bay Packers organization must move on" Rodgers) spells the beginning of a massive humiliation for Brett and the Pack. It's only just.

I spent last weekend in the even-in-stifling-heat-Windier-than-New-York-City with my Mother's entire side of my family celebrating my great aunt's 95th birthday, with a notable pre-family excursion into the insanely pot-scented mass of humanity that was Radiohead's crowd at Lollapalooza. A combined result of my being dehydrated, our flights not landing till after 4, and a lack of overt desire to see anyone else playing at the end of night 1, we only witnessed Radiohead's set, but let's be honest...there wasn't shit else to witness anyway. Even from about 50,000 people deep in the crowd, with absolutely no view of the stage save for on massive (and very well-programmed) video screens to either side of it, they were every bit the crowdpleasers I had last seen 7 years prior.

Saw Step Brothers yesterday. Utterly fucking hysterical. Easily my favorite Ferrell starring vehicle since Old School. If it was music, it would be like Fergie crossed with Jesus.

By way of a PSA: If you haven't ever seen Eureka, you don't know what's good about television, about Sci-Fi (genre AND network) or about life. Usually when I make a statement like this, it's because I'm trying to do my part to save a beloved, underappreciated gem like Arrested Development or Veronica Mars, and usually, you all ignore me until it's already cancelled, at which point you watch the DVDs and proceed to walk through life with an immense sense of guilt for having blown off my advice when you know as well as I do that I know what quality entertainment looks and sounds like. This is not that situation. Eureka doesn't need your lazy asses, and neither do I. It's a massive hit for the Sci Fi network and it ain't goin anywhere. No, you need Eureka, and if you don't believe me, take the challenge and try to watch two episodes of it without getting hooked. I dare you.

I simply refuse to believe that the recent pickup of Weeds for 3 seasons beyond this one doesn't signal the show's inevitable decline. So much of that show's tension, which, despite all its laughs, is what brings the masses back week after week, comes from the idea that Nancy and her ever-shrinking wardrobe are just one false step away from taking a bullet in the head. Good luck convincing me of that when I know you've got 40 episodes left on order from Showtime. But then again, i thought they had painted themselves into a corner introducing the DEA storyline at the end of season 1, so I'm clearly a fuckin fool.

I'm still pretty convinced that the lack of activity in the NL East at the trade deadline was perhaps even more beneficial to the Phils than any individual move they could have made to bolster the club. While all three teams obviously have severe flaws, the Phils still bring more balance to the table than either the Mets or Marlins, no matter how you slice it. They're younger than the Mets, older than the Marlins, have every bit the powerhouse offense of Florida, albeit every bit as reliant on the longball as Florida, with more depth behind Cole than the Mets have behind Santana, and a massive and undeniable advantage in the bullpen. Since the deadline passed, the Marlins and Mets both lost uninspired, low-scoring series marked by mental errors and shoddy situational hitting against vastly inferior competition, while the Phils took 2/3 on the road from the playoff-contending Cardinals, despite one of Cole's worst performances of the year, and behind incredibly encouraging lights-out performances from Myers and Blanton, who seemed to feel the spectre of J.A. Happ looming over their tenuous spots in the rotation. Even at this stage of the season there's a lot of baseball yet to play and it's a humbling enough game for me to wind up lookin like a fuckin fool, but with StandPat Gillick doing his usual routine at the deadline, it's fair to assume that what we've seen all year resembles what we'll see in the next several weeks. So I'm officially ready to make this proclamation: there's simply nothing which should stop the Phillies from returning to postseason baseball except for themselves. Anything short of being swept by the obviously superior Brewers in the first round will be an out and out failure.

Finally, I've been making good on the proclamation which I made in this blog's initial post, having enacted plans to reconnect with all manner of old friend. Having seen and had a lovely time with Ms. Sharkey, similar plans are in the offing with such characters as Texas, Fishhead, and Miriam, seeing all of whom should be delightful. And with that, I bid thee adieu.

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