8/17/05: Stewing In My Own Juice

This is officially the angriest I have been about a baseball game since Game 7 of the 2001 World Series when Luis Gonzalez won the game off Rivera with that little dink shot after Torre brought the infield in. Bringing the infield in occasionally makes sense, but there are some moves that managers continue to make despite decades of overwhelming evidence that these moves will cost you the fucking game every time. Bringing the outfield in is such a move. You bring the outfield in, you lose. Have you ever seen a team win after bringing the outfield in? No you have not. Torre pulled another beauty out of his handbook tonight: intentionally walking the bases loaded in a tied, extra-inning game on the road.

Here was the situation: 11th inning, game tied, 3-3. Man on 3rd, two outs. They walk a guy accidentally, a guy who's already hit two home runs in the game. I'm thinking, fine, put a man on first, gives us a force at second and takes the bat away from a guy who's basically surging with confidence. No problem. But a  lefty is due up next, and the Yanks have a righty in the game. At this point, Douchemaster Kaye in the booth and Torre and his lackey Girardi in the dugout all think the same thing: you HAVE to walk the lefty to get to the next guy, who's a righty. So they do. Now you have the bases loaded, a shaky pitcher in the game who has already walked two dudes and balked the runner to third, and you are forcing him to throw a bunch of strikes in a row. You have no margin for error. You've fucked yourself. Seeing the situation and knowing the inevitable outcome, I got up and began angrily approaching my television with the remote in hand and my finger hovering over the power button, because I knew at that very second that the game was lost.

Ball 1.

Cut to pitcher's stupid face. Even he knows the ensuing walk and defeat is a mere formality at this point.

Ball 2.

Cut to A-Rod approaching the mound and basically requesting that the pitcher please not walk in the winning run. Thanks in advance.

Ball 3.

Cut to Torre and Girardi in dugout. Girardi is holding a chart of some sort. He's wearing an idiotic look that says, "But the chart indicated..."

Ball 4.

Not even close. Game over.

I can't really think of a strategy in any sport that is comparable to intentionally walking the bases loaded in the bottom of the last inning of a tie game. Perhaps in football, it would be: tie game, you've got the ball, 4th and 37 on your own one yard line, 9 seconds left. You go for it and hand the ball to your fullback up the gut.

I wonder if Girardi and all his BS charts are the reason the Yanks suck this year.

This game tonight made me real mad. 

***

Dear W.B. Mason Marketing Department:

You guys are doing an absolutely splendiferous job of promoting your product throughout the Yankee telecasts. You also have a snazzy sign on the right field wall at Yankee stadium. In short, you have developed a strong connection between your product and the New York Yankees, one of the most successful entities in sports. Good work.

Now don't take this the wrong way, because I know you guys are busting your tails over there in the W.B. Mason compound, thinking of original and exciting ways to spread the good word about your wonderful line of products.  But...

Would you mind telling us what the hell it is that you make?

I'm sure within the walls of your corporate headquarters, merely saying the name "W.B. Mason" is enough. It rings out through the air, signifying quality and authority -- after all, you guys have been in the business for 100 years, I'm sure of it.

But what business is that, exactly?  You need to tell us. I am not well versed in advertising or sales, but something tells me that there is a passage highlighted in every kid's Marketing 101 textbook that says something like, "Be sure the public knows what it is you are selling; this will make them far more likely to buy it."

What I'm getting at is that the name W.B. Mason may mean something to you, it may mean something to your cousin Lonnie, it may mean something to a lot of people, but it means nothing to me. And who knows, maybe I'd buy one (some?) if I knew what we were talking about here. But instead I am left to guess what it is you make or do. Here are several guesses, in the order of how likely I perceive them to be correct:

1. Mustard
2. Paint
3. Consulting
4. Shingles
5. Potato Chips

It's probably one of those, right? Even if it's not, I am so put off my your presumptuousness that I ain't gonna bother looking it up on the internet.

What I'm getting at is that you need to change your logo and your catchphrase (if you have one) so that your product is referenced somewhere in there. Just my opinion.

Thanks for your time,

Hans Bungle

***

We're gearing the hell up for the debut of the new improved Trayline column. We are as excited about this as we have been about anything since the day we found out there was a real-life Wooderson. If you're not excited, you must be a real dick. Before we get started, let's clarify a couple of things regarding how it's gonna work:

1. The blog will take place in the early 90's. The locale is Madison, Wisconsin. The premise will be that the central character (loosely based on me) is keeping one of the very first online journals. Or, if you prefer, we have unearthed a handwritten journal from that era and transcribed it onto the internet fifteen years later.
2. The names of all the characters will be changed.  I was considering using all the real names, but shuffling them around to different characters just to be a dick. Meaning Ted would be Bob and Sal would be Kevin and Kevin would be Ted and Bob would be Sal and Larry would be Vince, etc. But I think that would confuse even me. So everybody will have fake names. If you want a key, send me an email and maybe I'll pass it along.
3. We originally said "lightly" fictionalized. It may end up being more like "heavily" fictionalized. That's up to us. We will promise that every entry has at least some basis in truth, although we may switch things up so things that actually happened to Teddy will now happen to me or vice versa. Some of the stories will be as faithful to the truth as we can remember them, but we won't tell you which ones. We will try not to piss anyone off or hurt anyone's feelings, but we also need to throw a little bit of truth in here and there. It was a remarkable time, and there's no need to pussyfoot around when discussing it..
4. It might start off a little slow, but so did "The Brown Bunny." You get what I mean? Me either.
5. We will try to resist obvious period punchlines, like "I feel certain that this Charles Smith acquisition will put the Knicks over the top" or "I don't see any real threats to Tsongas right now" or "Bobby Brown's marrying Whitney Houston -- I give that one about three months."  We will try to resist them, but we will fail miserably. Because they will give it life.
6. It will be called "Trayline." I was mulling over a few other titles, like "Blogging from Memory" or "Floundering" or something like that. But "Trayline" holds special significance for me, so "Trayline" it shall be. Please disregard last year's attempt at a similar column with the exact same name.

It'll start tomorrow. As in, tomorrow, December 19th, 1991.

***

Happy birthday to my niece, sis, and mom, who were born on consecutive days in August. In separate years, though.

In genius news, the monkeyman is beginning to smell the bananas and it may be too late to catch him. But you may as well try: for 9 points each, whodey?