The best part was when Aramis won the game

Storming the Friendly Confines

First of all, I'd like to offer my most sincere congratulations to the Chicago Bulls who will enjoy summa 'dis for the next few years. I reserve the right to repeatedly post that video over the course of the basketball season for no reason in particular. It brings me equal amounts of the good happy and the completely terrified.

The Milwaukee Brewers are expected to win the NL Central Division.

Read that back one more time to yourself. Say it out loud. Use it in a conversation with a friend or member of your family.

Certainly those words, stated in that particular order, sound alien and unfamiliar. To me, they sound horrifying.

In the course of months, the Brewers have gone from a team that has nothing to lose to a team that has everything to lose. Anything short of the a division title will be considered a profound disappointment and an abject failure.

When the Brewers played the Mets in mid-May, FSNY flashed a graphic indicating that the last team to lose their division after enjoying a 9.5 game lead over their nearest division opponent at that stage of the season was the 1951 Tigers (or something like that...this was 6 weeks ago and, quite frankly, I can't remember to wipe myself all the time). So either history is in the Brewers favor or they will experience a historically relevant collapse. My anxiety over the latter conclusion will not subside unless they play a strong series against the Cubs this weekend.

Over the past few seasons, the series of games immediately surrounding the All-Star break has given some indication of how the rest of the year would play out. On each of these occassions, the Brewers have been within a handful of games of the division and/or the wild card leads and, as we have come to expect, they've pissed the bed and left skid marks on the sheets.

The Brewers have an opportunity to define their identity this weekend and to numb the memories of disappointments of seasons past. They will have played exactly half of their games. They play their toughest rivals who are playing their best ball of the season. On the road. As the leaders of their division (albeit a very very bad division).

I like this team. They say all the right things and they appear to have what we would consider "the proper perspective". They like each other and put ego aside. They're young and experienced. Everyone contributes (including Craig Counsell and Tony Graffanino). Their pitching staff has solidified with the addition of Yovani Gallardo and the return of Chris and it is far better with Dave Bush in the bullpen rather than in the rotation.

If the Brewers take 2 of 3 or sweep in Wrigley, I will put my order in for Pee Your Pants for the Brewers gear (# 148) first thing Monday morning. If not, well, the last 3 months of the regular season will be quite a ride.

A Cubbie afternoon in late June

1:05PM - I just settled into my seat with a hotdog, a beer and a scorecard. I'm ready to go. At this point I cast my gaze towards the field and see Tony the Tiger throwing out the First Pitch. He's 6'8" if he's and inch. He throws what looks like a back door slider (similar to the one Eckersley famously threw to Gibson to end Game One of the 1988 World Series) with a tremendous amount of zip considering he's in giant orange cat costume. Depending on who's behind the plate, that's a borderline strike and a definite out-pitch. These are the moments when my sober brain becomes aware of itself and is grateful it's not currently impaired by hallucinogens.

It's a humid day, the wind is gusting out to right field at a steady pace and it's cloudy but not entirely ominous. I have a feeling like if the Cubs are up in the 4th and the rain starts coming down, we're going to have a collective Bishop Pickering moment, screaming up to the heavens, "BUT THE GOOD LORD WOULD NEVER DISRUPT THE GREATEST WINNING STREAK OF THE SEASON!!!" The beer is cold and the sweat on the back of my neck invigorates me every time a gentle wind brushes past. The prospect of two straight sweeps going into a weekend series against the Brewers at home has everyone bouncing on their soles, maneuvering through the crowds with purpose...

1:15PM - Wayne Messmer dominates another rendition of the National Anthem (again). He's the best. Whenever Mr. Messmer sings and the ivy is pulsing along the outfield wall and the azure skies are peeking out behind clouds, hinting at another glorious day at the ballpark... well, it's hard not to get emotional.

1:29PM - Zambrano easily retires the first two batters and then almost loads the bases on walks before Atkins pops out lazily to second base. The guys in front of me are pissed off because Big Z is pissed off... or something... I couldn't really follow their serpentine logic. I'm fighting the urge to get their attention and give them the hands out, palms down, universal "relax, guys" signal while exaggeratedly shrugging my shoulders and raising my eyebrows in mock sincerity.

1:38PM - In between innings I glanced up to the rooftops past right field and noticed the signs "Eamus Catuli" and "AC 036198". I use the word "notice" because they've been there for so long that I don't mentally acknowledge them, just like elevator music or those plug-in air fresheners. The picture I've attached here is from the 2000 season. Don't get it? Don’t worry, I don't either, but I'll attempt to explain. EAMUS CATULI is Latin for "Go Cubs". AC is supposed to stand for Anno Catuli or "The Year of Our Cubs"... I know what you're thinking, pretty clever, huh? It gets better. The following pairs of numbers represent the years since we've won our Division (2003 or 03 years), won the NL pennant (1945 or 61 years) and won the World Series (1908 or 98 years). Wasn't that fun? Are we going to add another digit in two years to make it 100? Will that be depressing enough? I just wish we could win it all, not for the simple joy of winning anymore... but just because I want to be able to shut up about it (as a fanbase).

1:46PM - This is Zambrano's pitch sequence to end the top of the 2nd inning against Yorvit Torrealba: 66mph (strike looking), 91mph (strike looking), 92 mph (ball high), 94 mph (swinging helplessly and missing).

1:55PM - Cubs 1, Rockies 0. Bottom 2nd. Derosa scored from 3rd base on a Theriot single up the middle. Through two innings, Jason Hirsh has given up 3 hits, 2 wild pitches and a walk.

2:15PM - The centerfield scoreboard shows Houston has just pulled even with the Brewers in the 4th inning in Milwaukee. I haven't pulled this hard for the Ass-hos since the World Series two years ago.





















2:24PM - Cubs 4, Rockies 0. Bottom 3rd. After walking Lee and Floyd, Hirsh gives up a 3-run jack to DeRosa. He then walks Hill on four straight pitches and finally ends the inning with a monster warning track shot to Theriot. Looking REAL SHAKY. I don't really know anything about Rockies pitchers because it's generally a wasteland for fantasy baseball purposes (thin air in Denver causing the ball to travel further i.e. more homeruns). I scanned the rosters included with my scorecard and saw some names I barely recognized and some numbers that made me sad. I decided that when I got home, I was going to check the (home/away) ERA splits because this whole series has been peppered by some consistently suspect pitching on their part. I posit that the difference won't be THAT pronounced. Here's what I found:

Aaron Cook (6.43/3.60): 104 innings pitched and 33 strikeouts. 33! Also he's owned in 2.2% of ESPN Fantasy leagues. I think he has a big family and they all draft him and bench him. You know, for moral support.
Josh Fogg (5.46/4.37): and a WHIP of 1.51
Jeff Francis (3.94/3.60): the definition of a good hitting team is when Jeff Francis is the ace of your staff and you're still only two games below .500
Rodrigo Lopez (3.27/5.60): 50 inning pitched and 26 strikeouts with a WHIP of 1.40 and it could be argued that he's their second best starter.
Jason Hirsh (5.63/4.49): Our boy.

So what have we learned? Well, besides the fact that I like to rip on pitching from Colorado?

That's right. Nothing.

2:33PM - Zambrano ends the top of the 4th inning with a strikeout. He's got two 1-2-3 innings to his credit and 6 K's. He's all pumped up and I watch him walk off the field to a raucous ovation while giving his traditional "point to the sky" gesture right as he gets to the dugout steps. What does that feel like? What is the equivalent of that sensation in other sports? In basketball, I think it would be a point guard backpedaling down the court and pounding his chest after threading the needle on a backdoor pass that's certain to be a SportsCenter Top Play. In football, it would be a wide receiver catching a crucial third-and-long ball in traffic, absorbing the other teams best hit and popping up while motioning "first down" as the defensive players just kinda stand around looking at each other. In hockey? I dunno, not really a big fan... something like this I’d imagine.

2:40PM - Cubs 5, Rockies 0. Bottom 4th. Fontenot grooves a 0-1 pitch 415 feet to straight away right. I think this kid may be our starting 2nd basemen for the next 10 years and I'm not even kidding. He's been up a month and I'm already completely sold.

2:49PM - DeRosa barehands a chopper down the 3rd baseline and guns out Tulowitski by a half a step. He's basically been in the well documented "I do what I want" mode for the past couple of innings.

3:00PM- Hirsh's first 1-2-3 inning in the 5th. I think he's starting to settle down.

3:14PM - Cubs 5, Rockies 2. Top 6th. Zambrano gives up a two out, bases loaded single to Hawpe before getting his final out.

3:18PM - Jacque Jones comes in to pinch hit for Big Z to a smattering of boos. I think it's a bad position for JJ to be in because all month he's been the subject of trade talks and he never starts anymore with these young guys tearing the cover off the ball. The court of public opinion has taken its stand and now he's up in a "yeah, but" pinch hit appearance. Even if he hits a homerun, everyone will say, "Yeah, but he's still hitting .234 and throws like a special needs child." He works the count to 2-2 and then grounds out to first. By the way he lopes back to the dugout you can tell he hates Chicago and wants out.

3:24PM - Cubs reliever Billy Petrick makes his major league debut in the top of the 7th. I like this move because he's facing Torrealba, Taveras (hitting for Hirsh) and Sullivan with a 3-run lead. Pinella starts the inning with action in the bullpen incase the kid unravels. Limited pressure. Let's see what he's got...

Petrick is ahead of every batter he faces. Torreabla grounds out to second. Then Taveras strikesout looking and people start yelling, "Come on Billy!". He touches 94 twice against Sullivan who finally strikes out swinging. The crowd erupts and he walks off to a standing ovation which bleeds into "Take me out to the ball game". A great Wrigley moment I'm sure he'll never forget.















3:30PM - Cubs 6, Rockies 2. Bottom 7th. Fontenot scores from 3rd base on a Floyd sacrafice fly. The weather has officially turned. Big sweaty droplets of rain could come crashing down at any moment and a thick, cool wind is now blowing in from center field.

3:40PM - Cubs 6, Rockies 4. Top 8th. Petrick, being just one strike from getting out of the inning, gives up a LINE DRIVE 2-run jack to Atkins. That ball took literally three seconds to travel 365 feet into the left field basket. Still, a memorable debut.

3:55PM - A drunk Cubs fan infront of me is heckling Hill after an awkward swinging strikeout, "This guy’s a BUM!!! We want Giovani Soto!!!"

Never been said before. Ever.

(even though I kinda agree with him)

4:05PM - Marmol throws up two backwards K's before this happens:



4:20PM - The torrential downpour begins as I'm putting my key in my front door. I'm reminded of an Ice Cube song as I push through into the entryway.

Bring on the Brewers...

Barrett Banished to a Pitcher's Paradise

Michael Barrett is gone after 3 ½ years wearing Cubbie blue, traded to the Padres this morning for pennies. In his time on the Northside, he won a Silver Slugger Award, hit almost everywhere in the lineup except leadoff, had above average slugging and onbase percentages for his position and was good for 15 homeruns a year. He also was a woeful baserunner, a defensive liability and a combustible personality in the heat of competition. It's funny because generally when a staple of your ballclub gets traded, you are either elated or dejected. At this point, I'm neither.


I remember when he came to Chicago in 2004 as a relative unknown (as are most people who played in Montreal not named Vladimir Guerrero or Pedro Martinez). I was optimistic because the previous year the Cubs were famously five outs away from the World Series without solid offense from their catcher (Damien Miller) or shortstop (Alex Gonzalez). Barrett and Garciaparra were breaths of fresh air into what we already thought was a championship caliber team. But then we realized just how much we missed Kenny Lofton, and Sammy started swinging the bat like an asshole, and Corey Patterson's Lou Brock impression from a year ago proved ill-fated, and Mark Prior began his injury tour of duty, and LaTroy Hawkins assumed the role of closer, and... well, you get the picture. Even as all this was happening, the Cubs managed to win 89 games (they would have been playoff bound again if it wasn't for a complete and utter collapse at the end of the season) and Barrett was a consistent contributing factor. As players were leaving or getting injuried over the next few years, Barrett, along with Lee, Big Z and A-Ram became the identity of the team. Late in 2004, he got into a dust-up with Houston Astros pitcher Roy Oswalt and we loved him for it. Not backing down after getting plunked by a fastball, calling him out in the media, not taking any shit... all good traits. But it just turned out to be a harbinger of things to come.


As much as I hate A.J. Pierzynski, Barrett was completely in the wrong for punching him on the run of play as it unfolded. He got a free pass from Cub fans because secretly, it’s what we all wish we could do if we ever saw him out at a bar. I just felt that it showed no class and belied a greater frustration that our team was experiencing last year. But, in all honestly, you have to be able to cope with frustration a little more constructively than throwing punches. Fights are reserved for when pitchers throw at another teams best player and whatever Albert Belle did to Fernando Vina. Flash forward to this year and the Big Z vs. Barrett slugout in the dugout. The writing was really on the wall after that one and with Barrett in the walk year of his contract, the Cubs went out and got some bodies. Any bodies. Rob Bowen and Kyler Burke. OK. They got nobodies. But the point is, this is an addition by subtraction situation. It frees up money to sign Zambrano next year. Will I miss Barrett? Absolutely. He was a good guy off the field and was a hard worker on it. But in the end it was the right play - and sometimes those are the toughest to make.

Piling on Alexi Lalas (only half-heartedly)

Doesn't this look like a guy you can trust? If he told me that Jesus was magic and could turn our farts into cinnamon and daisies I might even be inclined to believe him. Under the proper circumstances. Unfortunately, those circumstances also involve a fistful of nutmeg and 'shrooms, a residual weed high from 8 hours earlier (read: 3 a.m.), and a duck wandering aimlessly across my ceiling with his friend, Pico, the garrulous and unruly jumping bean. Pico is responsible for the overturned chairs, the broken window, and for the detritus that remains of 50 chicken wings, rasinettes, and the Wendy's dollar menu. The ENTIRE dollar menu. Pico fucking rules.

I know that since Mr. Lalas made comments to various British newspapers stating that MLS soccer players (I know, they're footballers, but old habits die hard and fuck it I can't hide my Americaness) are of the same quality as their counterparts in the EPL, the American media and sports blogosphere have unmercilessly begun to throw their collective feces at a man who could possibly say such things. If the man truly believes what he says, then sure, he doesn't exist on the same plane of existence as most of us.

I know that Lalas went Bricktop in this same session and essentially said "I really mean it this time,"however, I can't think that he does. I feel that his ballsy stance is more of a "fuck you" to the rest of the world for hating on the MLS rather than a statement of an opionion that has any basis in reality. Shit, if I were in the same position, I might even say the same things. At the end of the day, we know who he works for.

I feel hardly qualified to comment on the nuances of soccer given that I didn't grow up watching it like I did football, baseball, basketball, and hockey. Over the past couple of years though, I have become charmed by the game, particularly the international play and the EPL. In my newfound interest in soccer I have also flipped the channel to the MLS a time or two. I would've been better off watching "My Life on the D-List" (as an aside, I know that the premise of the show is that Kathy Griffin is detestable, but she really is...not even watchable-detestable). You can't compare the quality of play in the EPL to MLS. You just can't. I'm concerned that if I immediately began watching an MLS after an EPL match, I would want to claw out my eyes and hold myself in a corner, gently sobbing.

Lalas is attempting to gain some publicity for his league and he's nauseated that the rest of the soccer-playing world (and many sports-loving Americans, too) continues to treat America as a third-world soccer country. Even though it would be a bigger nightmare than the ACC-Big 10 Challenge, I would love to see an organized exhibition of MLS teams playing against EPL teams. I'll bring the food and the drugs.

Burn on, Big River, Burn on...

With two and a half months gone in the MLB season, the Bowler and Benny would like to tip the cap to Major League (for the material) and Bill Simmons (for the form) in a brief recap. Enjoy.



Willie Mays Hayes: What the hell league you been playing in?
Rick Vaughn: California Penal...
Willie Mays Hayes: Never heard of it. How'd you end up playing there?
Rick Vaughn: Stole a car.



I still remember shaking my head after diving into the mailbox this spring and emerging with my weekly ESPN magazine issue. Elijah Dukes and Delmon Young were gracing the cover with bats slung over shoulders, both wearing broad, affable smiles. The tagline read, "The Tampa Bay Devil Rays: MLB's best team in 2009 and other bold predictions". I knew Delmon Young for two reasons: he was the crown jewel of the 2003 draft (picked first overall) and he got suspended last year for 50 games in AAA for throwing his bat at an umpire. When you hitch your wagon to a horse like that, it's bound to be a fun ride. But (to continue this flimsy Oregon Trail analogy) when all is said and done, you'll probably end up with two tots in the ground from pneumonia, a busted spoke, rancid deer meat and a decidedly unpleasant drowning death. Elijah Dukes, on the other hand, was a complete unknown to me just a few short months ago. After reading up on him, I became even more concerned about "the future". I found out that Dukes has been arrested six times, fathered five children with four different women, been suspended three times by the Devil Rays organization and a partridge in a pear tree. Most recently, Dukes reportedly impregnated a 17-year-old girl on his step-grandmother's living room couch. When the girl confronted him about the pregnancy, Dukes "...got mad and threw a Gatorade at [her]." His estranged wife also got a restraining order on him after he left threatening voicemails on her phone, highlighted by Dukes uttering the immortal words, "You dead, dawg. I ain't even [expletive]. Your kids, too."

I love baseball.

Janice Bowden: I hear baseball players make awfully good salaries now a days.
Jake Taylor: Well it all depends on how good you are.
Janice Bowden: How good are you?
Jake Taylor: I make the league minimum.

The league minimum ($380,000) All-Star team: Cole Hamels (SP- Phillies), Tom Gorzelanny (SP- Pirates), Jared Weaver (SP- Angels), Jonathan Broxton (RP- Dodgers), Huston Street (Closer- Athletics), Russell Martin (C- Dodgers), Nick Swisher (1B- Athletics), Dustin Pedroia (2B- Red Sox), J.J. Hardy (SS- Brewers), Ryan Zimmerman (3B- Nationals), Josh Willingham (OF- Marlins), Reggie Willits (OF- Angels), Ryan Church (OF-Nationals)

Rick Vaughn: I got news for you Mr. Brown, you haven't heard the last of me. You may think I'm shit now, but someday you're gonna be sorry you cut me. I'm gonna catch on somewhere else and every time that I pitch against you I'm gonna stick it up - your fuckin' - ass! [Throws baseball against locker]

Oliver Perez started his promising career in San Diego during the 2002 season. He started fifteen games and proved to be a valuable young player, but the Padres didn't seem comfortable with that premise. They packaged him with Jason Bay and sent him off to Pittsburgh for a then-beastly Brian Giles. In retrospect, this is possibly the worst MLB trade of the past five years (or at least in the top three). Bay has become a perennial All-Star and Brian Giles has become the worst fantasy baseball player on whatever team he's on. Oliver Perez sparkled in his breakout year, his 2004 stats read like this: 196 IP, 239 K's, 81 Walks, 2.99 ERA

After officially arriving on the MLB scene, an injury and resultant mental and mechanical breakdowns caused him to completely implode. The next two years he had 5.85 and 6.63 ERA respectively and looked simply overmatched at times. The Pirates, out of yet another pennant race as the trade deadline approached last year, dealt the struggling Perez to the Mets for prospects. This year's stat line? Through 75 innings, he's got 70 K's, 26 Walks and 3.21 ERA. He hasn't pitched against Pittsburgh yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if he *ahem* sticks it up their fuckin asses. Speaking of which...

Dorn: Lou, I wanna have a word with you here.
Coach Brown: Sure.
Dorn: (whipping out his contract) Those penalty sit-ups you want me to do? I got it right here in my contract that I don't have to do any calisthenics I don't feel are necessary. What do ya think of that? [Lou looks at Dorn, pauses thoughtfully, takes the contract, drops it on the ground and urinates on it, then walks off]

Much has been made of Roger Clemens and his absolutely ridiculous contract... kindly allow me to pile on. He's making 18 million (pro-rated from 28 million) and has a "family clause" which states that he can travel back to Texas in between starts to rap with the fam. It might as well be called the "Fuck You, Pay Me" clause. George Steinbrenner, after giving the go-ahead for this appropriation of funds, has officially become "a bottom". He enjoys being entered from behind. I'm now convinced.

Let's do some math, shall we?

18 million for the remained of the season. That's 4.5 million a month. Assuming he makes five starts a month and throws 100 pitches each outing... that's... let's see... carry the one... nine thousand dollars a pitch.

Nine thousand dollars every time he takes a small sphere of cowhide wound around a core of cork and throws it 60 feet into the mitt of another gentlemen for our enjoyment. Meanwhile, there are children in Africa who don't possess the nourishment needed to power their legs. I don't say this often, but maybe the terrorists are right...

Pedro Cerrano: Bats, they are sick. I cannot hit curveball. Straightball I hit it very much. Curveball, bats are afraid. I ask Jobu to come, take fear from bats. I offer him cigar, rum. He will come.

Sammy Sosa has 218 at-bats this year. He's got 10 homeruns, 60 strikeouts, 18 walks, .248 BA and .307 OBP. Every time I see him on Sportscenter creeping closer to 600 career jacks, I secretly hope they interview him after the game in front of his locker dressed as a voodoo shaman looking at the Rangers upcoming schedule and putting hexes on opposing pitchers. It would complete me.

My kinda team, Charlie, my kinda team

In this homage to a genre that was popularized by the Sports Guy (who has, of late, experienced broad criticism from many sports-related blogs for becoming just a little TOO formulaic), we submit a look back on the first two and a half months of the MLB season through the lens of memorable quotes from an indisputably classic sports movie as they correlate to what we have witnessed during the first sixty-odd games of the year.

1. "Remember, fans. Tuesday is Die Hard Night. Free admission for anyone who was actually alive the last time the Indians won the pennant."

As an aficionado of the Milwaukee Brewers, the aftermath of the Cubbies' unprecedented off-season spending spree gives me particular delight. The nadir of the season occurred during the series with the Braves when Carlos Zambrano got into a slap fight with Michael Barrett and Sweet Lou was ejected for arguing a call he knew was correct. It was clear that in dropping $290 MM and hiring Lou Piniella that management is feverishly trying to avoid the utter humiliation of a franchise going an entire century without winning a World Series. Right now they sit 5 games below .500 in a putrid NL Central.

For the uninitiated we will be hosting a cocaine and hooker party at the Four Seasons Chicago on the day on October 14, 2008. We're billing it as "The Chicago Cubs: One Hundred Years of Futility", starring Gary Sinise and musical guest, Journey. Needless to say, it's going to be AWESOME.

2. (Jake Taylor discussing his one night stand) "I had no choice. She bet me fifty dollars that she had a better body than you and I had to defend your honor."

When the New York Post published the photographs of A-Rod in Toronto with a voluptuous blonde who, was not only not his wife, but also a stripper, I was mildly amused. Given that the adventures of athletes and strip clubs and mistresses and child support are well-documented, this shouldn't really raise an eyebrow. However, there certainly is an interesting juxtaposition created by that dynamic of A-Rod being the best player in the game, the subsequent fallout from this picture that he "likes the she-male, muscular types," and remaining mindful that he is one of the most hated men in baseball (even, remarkably by the hometown fans and media).

3. "Willie Mays Hayes. I hit like Mays and I run like Hayes."

"You may run like Hayes but you hit like shit."

This interaction, of late, has reminded me of the ever-wiggly, Juan Pierre. Juan Pierre is representative of the interesting debate between traditional baseball analysts and the so-called "statheads" of the sabremetric ilk. We on this blog are ardent supporters of the latter breed, whose arguments are humorously and eloquently spearheaded by the contributors of http://www.firejoemorgan.com/

During the offseason, the Los Angeles Dodgers, swayed by anecdotal evidence and the perception that smaller Major Leaguers somehow play through their disadvantage and give far more effort than the average-sized baseball player, signed Juan Pierre to a 5 year-$45 MM deal. Also a culprit in the voluntary highway robbery of the Dodgers is relevance (or lack thereof) of traditional statistics, such as and in this case batting average, as an accurate measure of a player's performance/value relative to other players/contribution to their team, etc.

Even a cursory glace and Baseball Prospectus's advanced statistics for Juan Pierre demonstrate that he is a BELOW-AVERAGE hitter, an even worse leadoff batter, and that his .292 batting average last year is completely misleading in terms of evaluating Mr. Wiggle's baseball performance.

P.S. the Dodgers fell all over themselves to pay $9MM this year to the gentleman who made the most outs in baseball last season (that isn't a sabremetric, that is a fact).

4. "Oh come cut the 'rah rah' shit, Taylor! Year after this I go free agent. Plus me and my agent got a couple of plans for life after baseball. So I am not about to risk major injury or displace this property for a collection of stiffs!"

For baseball's resident Hessian and Benedict Arnold, Roger Clemens, who, together with Alex Rodriguez and Barry Bonds are 21st century's detestable triumvirate of future Hall-of-Famers.

Roger Clemens bathes in the blood of small children. It gives him sustenance.

But goddamn, he gets the last laugh when he gets all up in between those.

5. "Hats for bats, keep bats warm."

Magglio Ordonez is nasty. In spite of A-Rod's guady stats this year, Mags bat is "hotter than a barrel of fire" (as Krayzie Bone would say) and belongs in the AL MVP discussion. Although the hype hasn't mirrored the performance, I think that if the Tigers can remain in the hunt to win the AL Central (or the wild card), he will begin to receive the acclaim he deserves as the summer progresses.