Archive for the ‘I'm trying to like baseball. No, Seriously’ Category

Just when I thought it was over… The bore of baseball had me on the ropes, and I was one pitcher/catcher stare down away from switching to NFL Network for good. The pitching changes, foul balls, standing around and groundouts were becoming too much to handle when this Phillies fan single-handedly sparked my interest in baseball all over again.

(I gave you this video because all the official sources had advertisements in them… f that)

Now THAT’S what I call excitement! If they can make this happen during every game, baseball will definitely gain one more fan.

I'm gonna git you sucka!

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We’re a little over a month into the season, and not much has changed. These games still don’t matter as there are roughly 682 left to play, but I could be mistaken. In the second installment of this series I’d like to tackle (yes, pun intended, because football fucking rules) a few things I’ve noticed that lead me to believe even the players know these middle 437 games are worth shit.

First things first, what goes on in the outfield? By my expert eye witness accounts, I noticed a lot of standing around. Like in my first post, while I was watching the batter foul off 12 in a row my attention was diverted to the outfielders. There wasn’t much happening out there, but one of them caught my eye because he was waving his hat around like an idiot. While the batter was jostling his cup, the camera moved in a bit closer to right field. I giggled to myself when, come to find out, he was swatting a fly. I thought about all the money he was making as he adjusted his shades and scratched his ass. I can’t be completely certain, but I’m willing to bet he was falling in and out of sleep behind those sunglasses too. The game was terribly exciting as the crowd was so loud I could hear the vendor yelling, “Big juicy wiener.” That guy deserves a web gem because he was easily the most entertaining part of the game.

Pitching changes: Holy christ, these are fucking brutal. The manager walks his tired, slow ass from the dugout while the relief pitcher makes his way all the way from left field (more on that later). After we wait a few minutes for both parties to reach the mound, they all stand there for a while and talk into their gloves like it’s some big god damn secret. Pssst, I know what they’re saying: Pitcher #1 was throwing the ball but sucked so we need you, pitcher #2, to get in there and throw the ball. Got it? That’s all that needs to be said. Instead they all fucking stand there and talk about god knows what while the announcers struggle to fill the time. They’ll eventually panic and end up reciting some ridiculous statistic telling us that some guy’s batting average in the 6th inning of games during the hours of 1-3pm, between the months of April and May, while trailing by 3, while wearing a throwback uniform, while holding his sunflower seeds on the right side of his mouth, after he’s been laid, when the sun is shining over right field, with 2 men on base and one shoe untied is .286. We need somebody to come in unannounced and yank them off the mound with a shepherd’s staff like in cartoons, that would be much quicker and a hell of a lot more entertaining.

A quick point on my previous note about pitchers walking out to the mound. I’m sure this happens around the league, but my first and only experience was while watching the Brewers (so before all my local brethren get all hot and bothered – cool it, I am equally hateful to all baseball teams). I was watching a game when suddenly AC/DC’s “Hells Bells” came on. Trevor Hoffman, the closer, emerged from the bullpen and walked way all the way to the mound. When I say walked, I mean we had a chance to hear the intro, verse, and guitar solo before this asswipe finally got to his spot. Besides the whole “Hells Bells” thing making no sense and being incredibly corny, the camera was awkwardly fixated on him for his entire stroll. Get to the fucking mound and do your job already, you’re embarrassing yourself. (By the way – after the long, drawn out spectacle, his ass got rocked and he blew the game).

Sweet jorts, and what the hell happened to your sleeves?

April 17th, 2010. I will never forget this date because on this day I was subjected to some of the most inane, aggravating, boring shit I’ve ever seen in my life. Ubaldo Jimenez, Colorado Rockies pitcher, threw a no hitter while the Cardinals and Mets played a game that went 20 innings. This combination of mind numbing nonsense is the kind of shit that should be reserved for torturing prisoners at Guantanamo Bay. I can hear them now… “What do you mean, a no hitter is awesome!!” Shut up, don’t be fooled, a no hitter is a fancy way to say “you spent $80 on your tickets, $30 on food and$15 on parking to watch 2 guys play catch for 3 hours.” I used to play the no hitter game with my dad on the front lawn and nobody gave a shit. Oh, and that 20 inning game I mentioned ended with a score of 2-1. These fucktards played a professional sport for over 6 hours and barely squeaked out a few runs. 6 hours and 53 minutes of low scoring baseball is the equivalent of placing your balls on a hill of fire ants while having somebody hit you in the face with a meat tenderizer. No thanks. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last, the NFL Network is looking awfully enticing right now.

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A little background
I have a few days under my belt watching baseball regularly and so far it’s been, well, less than inspiring. One of the first things I noticed was the cute little back ‘n’ forth the pitcher plays with the batter as well as the runner on on base… I was relaxing, taking in all that baseball had to offer but I showed up a little late. There was a man on first already and the pitcher appeared ready to throw to the next batter. I settled in, grabbed a beverage and kicked back. Right away, I heard the commentator mention their “running game” which stirred thoughts of football, thereby sparking my interest…sneaky little bastards. The pitcher leaned in, shook off a sign, agreed to a sign, postured up and waited for a few seconds then attempted to pick off the runner. Failed. The base runner called time, wiped off his jersey, fixed his jock, tied his shoe and showed the 1st base ump pictures of his kids before getting back on base and back into the game. Again the pitcher leaned in, shook off a sign, agreed to a sign, postured up, waited then turned quickly towards first but didn’t throw it. The runner slid back to the base and we had to start all over again.

This time the pitcher did his thing, putsed around, took his time, looked ready to throw and as he began his wind-up the batter called time and stepped out of the box! GOD DAMN IT! ARE YOU SERIOUS!? I shook it off, chalked it up as a rare occurrence and readied myself for the next pitch. Things were looking good, pitcher went through his little ritual, the batter jostled his jock strap around a little bit and went through his nuances and the pitch came down the pipe. Foul ball… FUCK! Pitcher ritual, jostled jock, pitch #2 – Foul ball. A tip of the cap, a tap of home plate with the bat and here came pitch #3 – Foul ball. Son of a BITCH! At this point I was applying pressure to the cyanide capsule stored in my rear molar. Another set of stupid rituals and pitch #4 was thrown. Deep fly ball to right! Was this it? Was this the moment I always hear about?! I stood up from the couch and let the potato chip crumbs fall to the floor. My hands were raised in anticipation; the hair on the back of my neck was standing up in excitement as the ball sliced right – foul ball… !$&%#!@$%!$!!! I would have chomped down on the suicide tab had I not expelled it from my mouth while screaming in absolute writhing anger.

As the stadium settled down and I returned my breathing back to normal, the commentator said, “Ya know – a triple play gets them out of this inning.”

Good night.

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I’ve caught a lot of shit over the years for bad mouthing baseball. I generally have a lot to say about just how much this sport puts me to sleep. I realize that in order for me to continue bashing baseball and all that encompasses it, I will have to do so fairly. I guess I can’t take shots just to take shots without paying attention to the long, drawn out, ultra-boring crap sandwich of a season it’s wrapped up in (woops, sorry, it’s automatic). From this point on I will watch baseball, listen to baseball, attend baseball games (and not just the tailgates), pay attention and try to understand what the appeal is in watching these guys stand around for 3 plus hours (damn it, sorry). Best part is – you’re coming with me. I will chronicle my findings, thoughts and experiences in a series under this post’s title. I’m not sure how many parts this series will comprise of because I’m not sure how long I’ll make it before resorting to watching Greatest Games on NFL Network. These will most likely be pretty random with no real schedule, so subscribe (if you don’t already) to follow my journey to MLB Fandom.

Wish me luck

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