 FoxNews- The father of the only girl player in a New Hampshire youth baseball league said he learned that two coaches talked about beaning his 11-year-old daughter in hopes to intimidate her so that she would stop playing, Fosters.com reported. Dan Klein, the father, told the paper that he was alerted about the alleged conversation that took place during a draft meeting where players get assigned to a team. The coaches talked about drilling her in the head during practice, Klein said. He said he found out about the threat from two coaches who were at the draft meeting where his daughter was selected last. Durham police said they are determining if an investigation is warranted. Oyster River Youth Association officials said the organization is also investigating. Klein told the paper that his daughter played in the league since T-ball in 2012. Klein said he did not reach out to police and is not necessarily looking for any penalties for the coaches in question. “I hope that this sort of thing doesn’t happen again, and that kids will be protected from this sort of language and be safe,” he said. -------- And the answer to the question in the title is.....apparently not enough to be alone in that line of thinking. What's almost as crazy as grown men colluding to force one child to inflict pain on another child out of blind hope that the latter is merely one headache away from instead spending her free time inside the co-ed confines of a baking class is the fact that I merely found myself half-surprised while reading this story. Like, the psychotic lengths they maliciously planned on going to in an effort to rid their youth baseball league of a girl is pretty shocking, but the fact that they desperately wanted to do so seems pretty fitting of the type of lunatics that live and die coaching recreational sports. Of course, these particular lunatics took the insecurity that they've masked as a sex-based superiority complex to a whole new level by going through the initial stages of putting out a hit an 11 year old girl by taking the temperature of the room after suggesting it. Still, we pretty much let youth sports get to the point of no return in terms of "supervisors" making it about themselves so whatever happens from here on out is just a logically illogical regression. That much is made evident by the fact that there were TWO people that thought "you know, manipulating children and compromising their safety is probably the best way to maintain the integrity of our all-boys club". I just find it hilarious that two guys, who were so convinced that a girl couldn't hang, decided the best way to send that message to her was to test the Oyster River Youth Association's concussion protocol. It's not even just the end goal that's sickening, but rather the caveman-esque way they thought they could "achieve" it that I find insulting. As someone who was once one of the last men off the bench for a travel baseball team, I can promise you that a meritless jog to first is not how you show a kid that he or she doesn't belong. Hell, if this line of thinking existed when I was growing up I would have worn a wig under my hat, lightly stuffed a training bra, and kept a bottle of Advil in my back pocket while gladly leading the league in on-base percentage. You want to successfully be the Archie Bunker of Little League then have your prepubescent ace sling some 42.5 MPH gas straight down the middle that has Little Dottie Hinson's swing closer to making contact with the next pitch than the last pitch. I speak from experience when I say that being embarrassed at the plate is a hell of a lot more likely to emasculate someone into an early retirement than being beaned upside the head. Plus, seeing as it's no longer 1952, it would be nice if these two could keep up the illusion that they are respectable members of modern society by being a little less violent in forcing an underaged female to do what they want while making her think that it's her idea. That is, unless they are too scared she'll prove them wrong. Now, let's lighten the mood with a mildly relevant GIF... 
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 AwfulAnnouncing- FTV Live reports that WITI (FOX Milwaukee) reporter A.J. Bayatpour was arrested after getting into a fight with a rival television reporter during Friday night’s Brewers-Cubs game at Miller Park. Bayatpour got into an argument with WTMJ (NBC Milwaukee) reporter Ben Jordan while they were both attending the game as fans. According to the police report acquired by FTV Live (pictured below), Bayatpour and Jordan got into a fight after Bayatpour “was ridiculing” Jordan’s girlfriend, Madeline Anderson, who’s actually a colleague of Bayatpour’s at WITI. Jordan then stepped in to defend Anderson, and Bayaport punched him, causing “significant injury” according to the police report.  -------- Did ya get all that? Want to give it a quick re-read just to make sure you're all caught up? Here, I'll break it down in Shakespearean terms for those of you that are still confused... You see, it looks as though what we have here is a real Romeo and Juliet-esque tale of star-crossed lovers in which rival news organizations, led by their trusted correspondents, fulfill the roles of the Capulets and Montagues. NBC's Ben Jordan, who wants nothing more than to keep the hand of FOX's Madeline Anderson, being drawn into conflict by the potential jealousy of a third party at FOX who - by way of employment proximity - believes he is entitled to her affection. Full disclosure, I actually have no idea if this altercation was the product of a love triangle gone wrong, but - seeing as this story can only be made better by a little more drama - I think that's what we should presume until further notice. I mean, the only alternative would be that this A.J. Bayatpour character took the Brew Crew nickname a little too literally, drunkenly made fun of a co-worker who was also a peer's girlfriend to their faces, proceeded to punch that peer when he stood up for her, and then took off running as if his arrest wasn't inevitable given how easily identifiable he is to the victim. Needless to say, getting taken out of the ballgame and taken down in a crowd under those circumstances wouldn't be the greatest look for him on a personal or professional level. On the other hand, the "love makes people do crazy things" initiative can be called in front of the court if this was just a fight over a girl. Granted, that court will be of the public opinion and it's judgement will be handed down by way of a much-anticipated rematch between heart-stricken and bloodthirsty broadcast adversaries, because I've already started penning a letter to Jerry Springer on behalf of a plot line that I may or may not have taken some liberties with. 
LBS- In an interview with Jayson Stark of The Athletic that was published Monday, the retired slugger said that he still could have reached 70 homers if he had not used performance-enhancing drugs, which he has admitted to doing.
“Absolutely,” McGwire was quoted as saying. “I just know myself. I just know. I was a born home run hitter. I mean, unfortunately, I did [take PEDs]. And I’ve regretted that. I’ve talked about that. I regretted it. I didn’t need to. That’s the thing. Didn’t need to. “But I know,” the former St. Louis Cardinal added. “Deep down inside, I know me as a hitter. And I know what I did in that box. And I know how strong my mind is. And I know what kind of hitter I became. And yes. Yes. Definitely.” ------- The truth is, I probably had the exact same hysterical reaction to reading that preposterous answer to a question that was, at it's most insightful, probably meant to get Mark McGwire to discuss the allure of substances that serve very little positive purpose if not to enhance performance. I just can't imagine that Jayson Stark thought he was encouraging a disgraced power hitter to stand by each and every one of his tainted homers when he asked him about his steroid-induced, record-setting season. Therefore, I think even he had to suppress a laugh at the implication that the former pro athlete he was interviewing had mental strength that absolutely would have magically made up for his artificial strength in helping him hit a ball out of park a historic amount of times. That said, we can't prove that Mark McGwire wouldn't have flexed his brow and transferred his intellectual weight in a brand new way that would have, hypothetically, allowed him to power 135 baseballs beyond the wall if he had happened to be clean from 1998 to 1999. I mean, we could easily make that inference by analyzing an entire era of statistical inflation, as well as career numbers that, while very impressive, don't exactly look as though they were a couple brain teasers away from making up what was - at the very least - a 12 dinger disparity. Still, that small seed of doubt that has been watered into a full blown poisonous plant by the superhuman mind of someone who was born to smash baseballs is technically being kept alive. Even if his rationalization is much like one used by someone claiming they can quit an addiction whenever they want, or a proud penis owner trying to explain the Viagra in their medicine cabinet, don't tell Mark McGwire he couldn't get it (the baseball, you perv) up naturally! 
And there you have it. A representation of America so beautiful that amber waves of grain should be photoshopped into the background and it should be mass produced and marked up in the name of capitalism. As if the National Anthem didn't provide enough patriotism to induce international puking, the presence of both baseball and a bald eagle basically shoved their red, white, and blue fingers down the throat of anyone that loathes the United States' self love. If posters are still a thing that get put up in the year 2018 then slap the image of James Paxton calmly standing tall in the direction of the stars and stripes with a bird of prey perched atop his shoulder on one and hang it up in the bedroom of every baseball fan from sea to shining sea. In all seriousness, good on the Seattle pitcher for keeping his cool as talons narrowly evaded the tendons in his non-pitching shoulder. I don't know how I would have reacted if I were in his position, but it probably would have been similar to trying to kill a spider with a flame thrower in that it would surely be in an overly dramatic fashion that caused far more damage than necessary. Bearing the facial expression of a grown man with shit in his pants wouldn't have made for nearly as Kodak a moment, nor would the blood staining the jersey of an idiot trying to outrun the grip of a claw full of lawn darts. 
LBS- As Colleen Kane of the Chicago Tribune explained, White Sox first base coach Daryl Boston decided to purchase a whistle when he was having a tough time getting outfielders’ attention to reposition them during games. Boston has since started using the whistle when the White Sox make a big defensive play and between innings.
Boston also caught wind that Donaldson isn’t a big fan of the whistle, so he decided to blow it before the Blue Jays star stepped to the plate in the sixth. Donaldson responded by belting a homer, and he mimicked blowing a whistle toward the White Sox dugout to celebrate.
“I guess he (deems) it to be appropriate, so I felt it would be appropriate if I blew it back at him when they didn’t make the play,” Donaldson told reporters after Toronto’s 4-2 victory. “As soon as I stepped into the box, he started blowing it before anything even happened. So I felt like I’d return the favor.” To their credit, the White Sox handled it well. Players could be seen laughing in the dugout, and Boston took the blame for the homer. “My reaction was he got us,” Boston said. “I was informed he wasn’t particularly thrilled about the whistle, and he showed me he was not. … So you can pin that homer on me.” -------- What's funny is that the home run that ensued after the White Sox first base coach tried to get under the skin on an opponent with an objectively infuriating sound isn't even the most tell-tale sign that acting like a little brother whose sole purpose in life is to agitate isn't the best way to interact with professional athletes. Rather, it's the fact that one of their own was mocked and Chicago's dugout couldn't help but laugh at him. Rarely, if ever, does a baseball player stray from the traditionally robotic trot around the bases and not get deemed guilty of showing an excessive amount of emotion/personality. Therefore, the fact that not only did no one facing him want Josh Donaldson tarred and feathered the next time he stepped into the batter's box, but rather went as far as finding the humor in his retaliation speaks volumes about the general consensus on the practice of whistle blowing. I can't say I blame them, seeing as being tweeted at incessantly is good way to make even the most strong-minded of man lose his marbles, but for both teams playing the most repressive of sports to be in agreement that a celebratory and sarcastic impersonation was completely justified? For a solo shot that basically screamed "shut the fuck up" to be appreciated by all, regardless of competitive affiliation? Well, that takes a attention-seeking mechanism whose ability to annoy is both unforeseen and unwelcome on the baseball diamond. 
For as infantile as it is for a professional baseball team to be up in arms about having an already imperfect stat line tarnished by the employment of a strategy that was merely reactionary, I can't help but sympathize with the Minnesota Twins here. I mean, who doesn't hate when a simplistic time-saving scheme backfires in the most predictable of ways? I wouldn't go as far as saying that opposite field bunts to the part of a field that has been vacated by presumptuous fielders is hurting baseball, but that particular one definitely hurt the confidence of a team that now has to question the deftness of their defensive shifts. Have you ever cut through a parking lot thinking you were shortening your commute only to run into a heavier dose of traffic, or slightly increased the size of the font to make your paper seem longer only to learn upon grading that there was a word requirement? Well, if you have then you too should realize that outsmarting yourself sucks in a way that makes it particularly easy to point the finger at others. In this case, "others" happened to be Chance Sisco who had the gall to safely take a base that was basically given to him in a desperate attempt to kick start a late-game rally. It's a good thing the Orioles have strong veteran leadership that's liable to to either suspend him or spank him for getting a rare runner on base at the expense of a team that has ironically appropriated a common piece of drug paraphernalia as the name for an unwritten accomplishment in a repressed league that only blows smoke up its own ass. If not, the Twins may have had to take justice into their own hands by pegging his teammate in the temple for playing fundamentally sound baseball. 
Opening day is supposed to be the one day that off kicks off every 162 game season that is universally lauded as a joyous occasion. Doesn't matter if your team is expected to defend their title or offend their fanbase, because - if only for one afternoon - the sun shines a little bit brighter, the birds chirp a little bit louder, and the beers go down a little bit smoother once meaningful March baseball starts being played. That's why you really have to hand it to Derek Jeter. The pessimism that has been forced upon the entirety of the Marlins' organization and everyone that has a vested interest in their success is so unprecedented that it's actually impressive. I mean, even Mets fans were downright giddy in anticipation of the first pitch of 2018, and they have longstanding - and somehow still relevant - Family Guy jokes dedicated to the annual and inevitable demise of their drunken delight... Meanwhile, in Miami, things are so dismal and depressing that not only were fans ready for the art of that hyperbolic joke to imitate life, but they actually preemptively prepared for it by crafting their own shame shams. Think about pissed you have to be about the state of a franchise to sit down with scissors and a shopping bag during a morning off from work in an effort to show your frustrations with a 0-0 team, and then tell me this blatant tank hasn't already crushed the souls of approximately 20% of its loyal clientele. I want to say that was a nightmarish start to what promises to be the longest of seasons, but - assuming they didn't swing by Stop & Shop just to leave their message sitting under their seats unsent, those two couldn't have dreamt up a scenario in which their expectations would be met so swiftly. Salvador Perez Gave Us The First Stupid Injury Of The Baseball Season, Before It Even Started3/29/2018 
What's that largely arbitrary and incalculable number of hours that Malcolm Gladwell assigned to the achievement of greatness in a particular field? Ten thousand, was it? Well, I guess we owe Salvador Perez a congratulations for easily surpassing that checkpoint as a professional catcher of baseballs, it's just a shame that it had to come at the expense of his expertise as an individual. Poor guy was too focused on keeping his eye on 92 MPH breaking balls in as their bottom dropped out into the dirt while squatting in the most unorthodox of positions that he forgot how instinctually dodge discomfort when it's not an occupational hazard. Seriously, the only way that transporting luggage could possibly be anymore convenient is if they invent hover suitcases. I'm pretty sure the last piece of baggage that was manufactured without rotating wheels was released during the steroid era and recalled by the time the MLB choose integrity over entertainment. Accidents happen, but they are more likely to happen when you're carrying heavy shit that, by name, is meant to be lugged and not lifted. I want to say this is one of many freak injuries experienced by finely tuned professional athletes over the years. Unfortunately, outside of the inopportune timing that is the eve of Opening Day, I see nothing all that crazy about someone that puts an ungodly amount of stress on his lower body tearing a ligament while haphazardly walking up slippery stairs with his hands full. I'm not nearly hypocritical enough to not be able to see myself doing something just as stupid/clumsy, but - as someone that doesn't have a 162 schedule to worry about - there's less asked of my knees than those of the average gold digger. Looking Like A Carbon Copy Of His Dad, Vlad Guerrero Jr. Launched A Walk-Off Bomb In Montreal3/28/2018 
I'm not going to lie to you, that clip doesn't do much for my argument that a sport that has a 162 games throughout their regular season doesn't need a preseason. I'm not even much of baseball fan, but as a sports fan in general? All the out-of-market exhibition games that feature players who are largely half-assing it were just made worth it by watching the apple damn near mimic the tree while in the familiar backyard in which it originally grew. To my point, it is pretty telling that it took such an absurdly fateful set of circumstances for something noteworthy to happen during spring training, but even I'm not stubborn enough to downplay the significance of watching the city of Montreal and the forgotten Expos' fans get treated to an undeniably incredible case of deja vu. Vlad Jr. didn't just showcase shades of his senior in the building that the latter called home when he became just that. He basically went back in time and held up a mirror to some of his most awe-inspiring moments of his father's early career with the unmistakable swinging of a bat while north of the border. Tough to argue that the win was entirely meaningless when the moment that punctuated it was anything but. 
First and foremost, as someone who wasn't in the room, I can only be so sure that a league who historically struggles with reaching and relating to a...umm...lets go with...diverse audience didn't sit down their players and make it a point that they be MORE polarizing in public forums. That said, I feel pretty confident there was a massive misunderstanding here, because you don't even have to pick a side to say that the one that baseball caters to typically demands a separation of pitching and politics. Like, something tells me the Cleveland Indians were told to "use twitter to market yourselves and the sport", but all Trevor Bauer heard was the word "twitter" and it literally and figuratively triggered his desire to 'Make America Great Again' by way of divisive drivel. After all, the alternative would be that the MLB "finally" came around on letting their athletes imply that their fans should take their own lives....
I hate to rain on this whole demonstration of disingenuousness, but to say it's hypocritical to encourage professional athletes to productively and responsibly use a platform after taking said platform away from a professional athlete who proved incapable is a laughable misuse of the word. To put it in terms Trevor can understand, it's fake fucking news. You can be a leader without the incessant use of the word 'libtard'. You can take a stance without it being a contentious one that serves absolutely no purpose other than to alienate paying customers. Baseball has a hard enough time reaching the the younger demographic without becoming the sport that promotes political propaganda. Therefore, I question that's what this alleged meeting was aimed at doing. On the off chance it was, however, I highly doubt those in charge of a league that embraces repressed, conservative values on and off the field is acting as the anti-Putin and robotically boosting only leftist beliefs. To put it simply, the Indians' resident snowflake didn't get censored for openly being a Trump supporter, he got censored for openly being a gaping asshole about it in a way that makes both he and his employer look bad. Ironic that he can't see the difference since he was almost undoubtedly calling for the firing of Jemele Hill...
Let's take it back to last year real quick. When a drive-thru doze off resulted in a pitcher's DUI and a pitcher's DUI resulted in this odd press conference in which the Kansas City's GM, Dayton Moore, chose to irrelevantly denounce pornography and allllll the domestic abuse that it's baselessly responsible for... In the moment, you may have thought it to be a deflection mechanism that was just preposterous enough to shift the focus from Royals' starting pitcher Danny Duffy, who got a hankering for a Happy Meal after taking down a 12 pack of Heineken. Well, if that's all it was, as opposed to a true and genuine stance against taking temporary pleasure in watching strangers have sex, then I'll be damned if they haven't stuck to that strategy more tightly than the pages of a repurposed Victoria's Secret catalogue... You see, the picture above is not of an organization being taught the dangers of drugs and alcohol after one of their own ignored the existence of Uber and put the lives of innocent people in jeopardy by driving when he was too drunk to keep his eyes open. Nope. This might be tough to tell given the sternness of the looks across their faces, but it's actually a group of grown ass men in their early 20's to late 30's being told that the substance that's most likely to put a strain on their relationships is the semen they've been self-inducing since middle school. Professional athletes, who may have wives and girlfriends whose access pales in comparison to that of temptation, being scolded for using a readily available muse for their masturbation. Never mind that those same guys could walk into a bar and seduce a sultry stranger using that very same internet to Google themselves. Traveling all throughout the country as well-off and in-shape borderline celebrities to play 162 games a season (plus playoffs) isn't the real killer of love and monogamy, living vicariously through the well-endowed and uninhibited while clearing both their pipes and their head is! Oh well, at least one open-minded team has their priorities straight and is fighting the good fight against "the new drug" that is carnal instincts and sexual desires. It's not like the old drugs are still altering minds to the point in which one might find the risk of basic human safety to the reward of freshly fried chicken nuggets to be a worthy one. 
You got to hand it to him. Mike Jeffcoat lacked open-mindedness, a willingness to truly evaluate talent, and a tolerance for the time it takes to administer a drug test, but - unlike much of his college coaching brother - the guy had standards. You'd wish they more along the lines of criminal behavior or general moral compass, and made more sense than someone trying to explain the formation of the universe after hot-boxing a dugout, but they were standards nonetheless. His regional bias could have used some tweaking seeing as it was clouding his judgement worse than pot that has 4-seam fastball potency, but you have to admire the confidence necessary to rope off half your prospect pool out of principle while trying to field a formidable team. That principle being political in nature seems oddly hypocritical seeing as Mike Jeffcoat is definitely the type of person that - if you listened closely enough - could be heard screaming "keep yer darned politics out my sports" during the National Anthem this past football season, but everyone's got their own coaching style. Seeing as the following map shows the states that have legalized marijuana in one form or another (in green, obviously), it appears the coaching style of the former manager of Texas Wesleyan was to require less cuts than the Jamaican bobsled team... 
Common sense says that taking only teenage athletes who haven't smelled weed before wouldn't be conducive to the formula of winning, but I guess you can put THC on the Banned Association of Substances list and feel no worse for the wear when you are coaching in the Sooner Athletic Conference in a league that's most definitely not the NCAA as a former Major Leaguer... 
The Miami Marlins Publicized The Firing Of Their Long Time Mascot With One Confusing News Leak2/6/2018 
I can't help but feel like the oh-so-rare-occurence of canning your longtime mascot for logic unknown (but probably frugal in nature) during the offseason is enough of a reason not to give your marine life costume a human name. Seriously, if you let yourself start skimming during the reading of that tweet you might think that Derek Jeter's shameless nuking of his new organization extended to the fan friendly face the Marlins use to silently entertain all 63 season ticket holders, as opposed to the person sweating bullets behind it. Would 'Splashy' have caused too much of splash? Would Huckleberry have sued over the appropriation of 'Finn'? Whatever the case may be, Billy is undeniably a crappy name for a cartoonish fish that - combined with the internet's short attention span - makes for some easy miscommunication. Luckily, there is one benefit to this relatively confusing - and wildly unnecessary - news break, and that is the hilariously symbolic visual of a six foot marlin with an unrelenting gill-to-gill grin heading to his locker, packing up his belongings, and dispiritingly dragging his feet out of the bleakest of buildings after 14 years on a job. It's far less funny when you think of him as the adult male that's now looking for a purpose after being one of the handful of fans that hadn't given up on the Miami Marlins over the years. The type of person that showed up - day in and day out - for well over a decade to bring joy to 30,000 empty seats is probably ever-so-slightly more depressed than the happy-go-lucky, spear-nosed fish he portrayed. Therefore, instead of thinking of this as Derek Jeter being a cheap ass and making an example of even the most anonymously loyal member of the organization, I'll be blissfully ignorant and view it as a long-suffering human-marlin hybrid being given a new lease on life by an owner that realized his forced happiness was going to waste within South Florida's most inherently miserable franchise. An Agent For Multiple Major Leaguers Was Fired For Filming Some Of His Clients In The Shower1/10/2018  FanRagSports- Baseball agent Jason Wood is being investigated by the player’s union for allegedly filming numerous clients while they were using his shower, seven sources tell FanRag Sports.
Three sources say that Wood has been fired by CSE, where he was the President of Baseball. A search to replace him is underway, with the agency hoping to find someone to fill that role soon. Some players have already fired CSE and have hired new representation or are looking to do so in the near future. Recently, a player who chose not be identified, was using a shower at Wood’s home and found a camera, sources say. The player confronted Wood, then followed by firing him immediately, sources say. Multiple sources suggest that there were other players being filmed, with their identities being unknown. Wood represented many players around MLB, including the Boston Red Sox’s Andrew Benintendi, Colorado Rockies’ Riley Pint and Atlanta Braves’ Joey Wentz. ------- Obviously the "why?" is more important than the "how?" considering this was a situation in which the privacy of multiple people was breached by someone who was both trusted and financially incentivized to keep a close eye on the type of sizable endowment that doesn't reside between his clients' legs. Still, I can't help but wonder how Jason Wood convinced a handful of professional athletes that his residence was the right place to drop trou and give themselves a quick rinse. Like, what could the circumstances surrounding these meetings possibly have been that them in ending in an immediate, full-body lather was necessary? Did the newly disgraced agent only talk business over 1-on-1 basketball games? Was his in-home office a sauna? Did he suggest they workout the details of the contract during an actual workout? Maybe Jason Wood veiled his predatory intentions with a cloak of genuine friendliness, but at how many homes - other than your own - have you worked yourself into a sweat that simply couldn't wait until you returned to the sanctity of the quarters where you shit, shave, and shower? Maybe I'm underselling the closeness of the agent-client relationship, but I don't seem to recall Vinny Chase making an impromptu stops at the Gold household for a self grooming. I guess what I am trying to say is, with how well he apparently sold grown men on sprucing themselves up on the spot without it seeming odd, it's no wonder this creep was successful in the profession he'll forever be banished from. He's a sexual defiant of the highest order, but Jason Wood was (operative word) a goddamn perfectionist as a pitchman. 
Perhaps the concept of lightening the delivery of injury-related news by blaming something so innocent and obscure that even the most impassioned fan would be forced to laugh at it was lost in translation? That's the only explanation I can think of, because - outside of Martin Perez sleepwalking into a bullfighting arena while wearing red pajamas - there's nothing guilt-free about breaking your elbow in a confrontation with cattle. Admittedly, it's hilarious to see the phrase "incident with a bull" written out as if bulls are commonly participants in your average, every day incident, but it's more so in a "wow, what a moron" kinda way as opposed to a "haha, what a freak accident!" kinda way. Like, if I had to guess, the Rangers pitcher who makes $6 million a year off the use of his left arm luckily had the right one stomped on after inevitably being thrown from a top the back of irritable livestock. I have no proof that was the case, but the plot holes in an explanation that's only slightly less incriminating than a "playing in traffic while blindfolded incident" aren't exactly a fit for the type of benefit of the doubt you'd hope to give a professional athlete who hurt himself doing something undeniably stupid. I am not exactly a PR professional, but the negligence out only works when you verbally commit to a story in which you're not complicit in diving elbow-first into living, breathing, charging, or bucking danger. 
Jose Canseco's mind dump on molestation:
The response from his (now former) employer: NBC Sports California immediately issued a statement addressing Canseco's remarks: "Jose Canseco is no longer an employee with NBC Sports California," the network said in a press release, according to ESPN. "His agreement with us ended after the 2017 season. We certainly don't agree with his comments, which do not reflect the values of our network or our team partner." The response from his former team:
Jose Canseco's response to the response: “If people can’t take a joke, that’s ridiculous," Canseco sent Susan Slusser of the San Francisco Chronicle in a text message. "What I’m saying really has no meaning. Those tweets don’t even make any sense, they’re a bunch of riddles.” -------- Oddly enough, the most surprising thing about this situation is that prior to yesterday afternoon Jose Canseco still had two entities that retained a close enough affiliation with him to have to distance themselves when he inevitably did or said something mind numbingly stupid. Like, I know he was just a former player hired to sit on a panel and spew a thing or two from an athlete's perspective every once in awhile, but the fact that he was able to get that gig after publishing a written history of why he's not to be trusted as a co-worker really calls into question NBC Sports California's vetting process. Were taking about a known steroid user that pulled back the curtain to expose everyone else that was sticking a needle in their ass. So yeah, probably not the type of guy to let whatever semblance of a professional reputation he had left stand in the way of his undying need to stir up an attention-seeking shit storm. And look, I'm not going to try to decipher a bunch of tweets that trivialize sexual assault by making it sound like it's nothing more than some sort of fetish by way of completely disjointed logic. Instead, I am going to 'stand up' for the memory of Yogi Berra and the type of comedy he made famous by renouncing said disjointed logic as a "riddle". I suppose I'm not surprised that Jose Canseco thinks the only defining characteristic of a riddle is that it makes no sense whatsoever since the circuits of his brain are far too short to truly be teased. In that sense, I actually feel bad that he's spent his whole life walking around feigning fake laughter whenever wit flew over his head quicker than the fastball Roger Clemens has been dying to throw at his temple. Of course, that sympathy flew out the window after I reminded myself that he chose forced full frontal (and the like) as the subject matter for his first (and hopefully last) painful foray into the world of internet joke making. Still, if you re-read those tweets in succession then it becomes pretty disheartening that he stole Jerry Seinfeld's "what's the deal with all these..." schtick just to attach it to senseless bragging about how many women wouldn't take no for an answer from a meathead whose testicles were harder to find than his point. Some might say these "opinions" were artificially enhanced in an effort for them to perform better statistically on the internet. Whatever the case may be, it was only a matter of time before Jose Canseco ended up unemployed. I just hopelessly hope that his immediate shit-canning served as a life lesson in teaching him that he was put on this planet to be laughed at...not with. 
Whether or not they are deserving of the restraint, I'll stop short of calling Yankee fans frauds for going from "ya know, it's so refreshing to see things done the right way this time around!" to salivating at the idea of adding one of the most expensive bats in baseball in the time it took Derek Jeter to pull the trigger in the direction of his professional reputation. It's human nature to justify the moves your favorite team makes in an effort to win, and it's not exactly difficult to rationalize the insertion of a player who was one hanging curveball away from hitting 60 dingers into a lineup that was already more abusive on long balls than Larry David. Regardless of how A-Rod-esque the corresponding contract happens to be, Yankee fans should be pumped by the roster bolstering that caused the immediate uprising of 'The Evil Empire'. They just shouldn't expect to be taken seriously if they claim that it was the result of nothing more than wholesome team building that is beyond reproach. I'm fine with them embracing the role of the bad guy, but not while also claiming some type of moral superiority that would stop their organization from taking full advantage of a relationship that's damn near familial. Due to Aaron Judge's unfortunate dental "situation", Derek Jeter is basically still the face of the New York Yankees. So don't tell me he is some holier-than-thou human when the transaction that he at least partially facilitated helped the team that he is synonymous with turn heel. As someone whose expertise as an executive is limited to promptly shit canning every long time employee that had a vested interest in the team's success, Derek Jeter hasn't exactly earned the benefit of doubting his continued allegiance to the organization that treated his recent retirement like it was a year long funeral. And listen, I understand that it makes no sense for the Marlins to commit over 250 million to a guy whose star power would go wasted by a franchise whose immediate future is bleak. I get that it's not easy to move a contract that big when the person due a monthly Brinks truck has a no trade clause. I'll even admit that the first chapter of baseball's most recent success stories have basically been tales of yard sales, but - in sticking with that analogy - the Miami Marlins' owner essentially accepted spare parts in exchange for signing his Lamborghini over to his father figure to compete in the pennant race. Credit to the Yankees for pseudo-nepotistically networking their way into the reigning NL MVP, but you can spare me Brian Cashman's candidacy as GM Of The Year when a trade of this manner would get vetoed out of principle in about 97% of fantasy leagues. I'm not ready to dig through my closet, pull out a tin foil cap, and claim that this was all some sort of meticulously planned conspiracy coming to fruition. I am, however, ready to say that Derek Jeter's shit officially stinks - whether Yankees fans want to continue to hold their noses or not. 
Now THAT is how it's done! You can say that New York sports fans are spoiled far beyond the success (or lack thereof, in every case other than the Yankees) of their teams, but don't you dare tell them they give the city a bad rap as a sports town whenever a skilled player has the gall to take his talents elsewhere... ...No seriously, don't fucking tell them that insinuating a Japanese free agent is a coward on the front page of a publication is a fantastic way to scare off future foreign prospects that might be willing to give the states that are quicker to learn how to spell their last name than slander their character a shot. Let's just keep that one between us, because it's hilarious watching Yankees' fans stew every time an athlete dares to make vulnerable a superiority complex that has been passed on from generation-to-less-accomplished-generation and lived further past it's expiration than mold. Consider it our little secret, because the day New York City turns into an environment that breeds rational expectations that fall anywhere near in line with reality is the day that the cycle of self important, counterproductive douchebaggery wears off and players start choosing to play their for reasons others than an ungodly amount of money. Bret Boone Randomly Slid In A Reporter's DM's To Joke About Sexual Harassment For No Apparent Reason11/29/2017 
SeattlePI- Since The New York Times reported accusations of repeated sexual assault against Hollywood mega-producer Harvey Weinstein in October, it seems like you can't go more than a day or two without another high-profile man being accused of being a sexual predator. Wednesday was no different, as two titans of media -- NBC's Matt Lauer and public radio's Garrison Keillor, host of "A Prairie Home Companion" -- lost their jobs following allegations of inappropriate behavior. After tweeting my disappointment about the Keillor allegations, I received a direct message on Twitter from former Seattle Mariners second baseman Bret Boone, the three-time All-Star who was instrumental in the M's success in the early 2000s. That was notable in and of itself, as I don't get many (read "any") unsolicited DMs from professional athletes, former or current, let alone bat-flip and frosted-tip trailblazers like Boone....
I'm not entirely sure how Bret Boone defines sexual harassment. The tone of these unprompted messages to a reporter seem to imply that he thinks every powerful male that has skeletons pouring out of their closet is getting fired and having their career canceled because their greetings to the fairer sex were too chipper in the morning. If that's the case then he's going to find himself pretty shocked when he learns that half of 'Hollywood' finds themselves so "excited" by the presence of a woman that they instinctually drop trou and start jacking off whenever one enters the room. Regardless, having not known anything about Bret Boone as a person before five minutes ago, I'm beginning to think there's nothing he loves more than making the opposite sex feel uncomfortable. Consider this, how many things are so near and dear to your heart that you randomly bring them up free of any sort of context with people that you have absolutely no connection to? As someone who prides himself on an ability to read a room, I'm not sure there's even one thing that I enjoy enough to incessantly force it on people in unwanted conversation. Meanwhile, Bret Boone has such a deep-seated passion that he literally has to go out of his way to talk to anyone and everyone about it. You thought vegans had a cult-like obsession with their beliefs? Well, when's the last time some unsolicited, online meat mockery got sent directly and only your way? Seriously, if Bret Boone were strolling through the neighborhood instead of hawking the internet he might be going door-to-door passing out 'Please Support The Patriarchy' pamphlets, because that's the real life equivalent of going inbox-to-inbox on behalf of every prominent predator that's made their way through the news cycle recently. It's definitely unfair for me to assume that just because a former pro athlete thinks it's okay to walk up to strange women and demand that they smile (which he surely does daily) that he also thinks it's okay to expose himself and demand that they watch to completion. However, if your initial interaction starts with an unprovoked, shameless endorsement of the former, is it really out of the question that - if humored - it could end with the approval of something dangerously close to the latter? 
KapLifestyle- "You’re moisturized and smelling tropical, your teeth are white and your face looks like you’ve just visited a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon. The sun has set, and the moon is out. Perhaps you have a friend nearby, perhaps it’s just you by your lonesome…well, this is awkward. I’ve promised you authenticity, honesty and openness. Take this how you wish and I’ll spare you the step by step. Coconut oil is the world’s greatest lubricant. I can’t help where your mind goes with this. Once the ball leaves the bat, I can’t steer it." (Gabe Kapler, 2014)
There's a lot of people on this planet that I would love to sit down and have a beer with. I can now officially say that Gabe Kapler has been added to that list, and reporter Howard Eskin has been crossed off in permanent marker. Admittedly, it's probably pretty silly to talk about touching yourself on the internet if you have aspirations of coaching in the most repressed league in the entire sports landscape. However, if you listened to Gabe Kapler talk around the time he implied that going to the kitchen cabinet for reinforcements can bring you quicker to completion without the most shit-eating of grins on your face then I simply cannot relate to you as a person. If you think it's unforgivable for a grown ass man - whose look leads you to believe that he lathers a lot more than his penis in nature's lubricant - to have made an old but relevant inference about masturbation then we just never going to see eye-to-eye. He says "what about the poor children?", and I say "the poor children" who actually understand the half-serious storytelling of the Phillies new manager will be far better off having not resorted to the misguided use of shampoo. He tries to make it seem like jerking off is a sin, and I think he's nothing short of a jerk off for doing so. He wants the Philadelphia to hire a someone whose manhood hasn't been used for anything but procreation, and I think that's the type of counterproductive mindset that is killing baseball. He believes managers shouldn't waste their time touching themselves, and I think considering efficiency while engaging in a necessary evil is the mark of a good administrator. After all, some might not like the lesson but Gabe Kapler is unquestionably a teacher whose job it is to now...ahem...get the most out of his young players. Howard Eskin and I are just fundamentally different people that could only ever share an opinion on a more explicit use for coconut oil if he got rid of his "knock it before you try it" philosophy. So here's to hoping he hasn't reproduced. Not only because he seems like quite the wet blanket, but because he sounds like the type of person who would set bathroom time limits to keep his son's dick dry in hopes that it helps him "develop" into the next sexually inhibited GM of the Kansas City Royals. |
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