As the antithesis of the baseball traditionalist, I'm hardly the type to pound my fist on the table and bemoan a winning effort just because it wasn't conducted with the upmost class. Despite being professional in nature, athletes who make it to the highest level of their respective sport do so by way of a competitive fire that blazes hotter than any of us beer league bums could ever possibly stomach without getting heartburn. For that reason, I try to empathize with those whose emotional outbursts might slightly sour a victory in the eyes of those whose ass calls a sizable stick home. That said, there's a difference between showing a lack of class and being a total ass, and all it takes is one cringeworthy peak at a scoreboard that was hanging more lopsided than the work of an alcoholic interior decorator to know which best describes Shawn Kelley's mitt spike. Considering everything competitive about a complete joke of a game had already run it's embarrassing course by the end of the first inning that would have filled the most sought after of Super Bowl boxes, there was nothing remotely close to a legitimate reason to throw both his glove and a tantrum while still up by nearly three touchdowns. I don't care if he thought he was too good to be locked in a "who can get this crap over with faster?"-type pitcher's duel with Jose Reyes, of all people...
...or if he was annoyed the umpires for even slightly extending a game that has to be in contention for the world's biggest waste of time...
....or if he just hated giving up a long ball in that situation. There's no excuse for being that pissed off when the team your pissing on tags you with some of the most meaningless runs in the history of baseball. The Mets, who had already taken to laughing at their own incompetence, would have had every right to charge the mound out of principle to show someone who looked like an entitled infant what frustration really feels like. To be honest, I'm kind of upset they didn't, as getting the entire team tossed as one of their own was finally rounding he bases would have been the most comically fitting ending to a game that played out like a parody of the Mets' existence. Shawn Kelley definitely deserved his designation for assignment, and here's to hoping that assignment is to transcribe the following tweet on a blackboard ten thousand times...
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HA! Get it?!? Because they are both Asian...::waits out prolonged silence::...and all Asians look alike? Why aren't you laughing? Do I need to explain it again? Sure, that handshake basically symbolizes the passing of the generational torch from one historically accomplished and transcendently talented representative of a nationality that's underrepresented in the MLB to the young player who's most likely to fill his void as the pride of said nation going forward. That's probably a pretty important takeaway from that picture, but - aside from the obvious cultural significance - what else was a league-run social media account supposed to highlight other than the stereotypical similarities between the looks of two Japanese players? Never mind having the potential to mirror Ichiro Suzuki's impact on the entire landscape of baseball, because Shohei Ohtani's potential to mirror him as the lead role in the most racially insensitive biopic ever generated is really nipping at its heels! Ya know, I thought that a league of dwindling popularity amongst younger generations was being stubborn in their reluctance to let the fans they do have in that demographic organically market their product free of charge, but I think I'm starting to come around on the MLB policing their own social media presence. Clearly the most repressive league in sports is more intellectually equipped than the entirety of the internet when it comes having the infinite wisdom to know the difference between engaging and offensive. The argument could be made that their pop culture reference was almost as outdated as their general point of view on just about everything, but I think they really nailed the spirit of the Spiderman meme by turning into something that you'd expect to see forwarded onto your FaceBook newsfeed by the kid that you forgot to unfriend when he dropped out of high school. They may have swung at the lowest hanging fruit, but I'll be damned if their social media team didn't get all of it in pushing it about 100 feet foul. Two Asians, in the same stadium, at the same time! Before the MLB turned the attention on the extremely loose alikeness of their facial features, as opposed to the superiority of their standing in the sport, who would have even thought it possible!?!
If only because the vast majority of fans that think the only thing stopping their words from having a lasting impact on the outcome of a professional sporting event is a lack of volume predictably fail, this anonymous fan earned himself a tip of the cap for some perfectly timed mimicry of Mookie Betts. I suppose it's not all that difficult to out-wit those that slur drunken complete nonsense from the stands. However, if the wide-eyed amazement with which the Red Sox first baseman desperately searched the field for the teammate he swore was on his tail is any indication, then someone out there is showing more attention to detail in helping the Orioles win than the actually Orioles themselves. Even if you're the type of person that, for one reason or another, thinks gamesmanship should be left to those who are actually playing the game, I have a hard time believing you didn't crack a smile while watching Steve Pearce be made to appear as apathetic as Daria by a foul ball that kerplunked at his side as he momentarily looked to be stargazing. If nothing else, it made for an objectively and equally hilarious GIF, which is just about as much we should expect to be gifted by anyone associated with Baltimore's professional baseball team for the reminder of the season.
Perfect. Just absolutely, positively perfect. Don't get me wrong, this amazingly ironic sequence of events would be awfully embarrassing if the 'Heart & Hustle' award wasn't only an accomplishment in the same way that Valentine's Day is a holiday. However, as made clear by the nonsensical timing of its announcement, it's basically just some made-up achievement that only stands to make those that try overly hard look good. Therefore, much like a single person watching a couple stroll up to a restaurant without reservations on the night of February 14th, I enjoyed the hell out of seeing Trea Turner make an absolute mockery of both himself and some fabricated institution. I highly doubt the timing of the vote tallying was on his mind when he decided to leave no illusion of effort in his post-bunt pout down the wrong baseline, but the awkwardness that ultimately resulted from it sure did highlight how moronic it is to declare the official candidates for a season-long honor in July. They don't enjoy much, but I bet even the type of baseball traditionalists that would require the use of a defibrillator after seeing the Nationals' shortstop disrespect the game could appreciate the paradoxical nature of him being acknowledged for playing it the right way shortly thereafter. After all, there's nothing traditional about some concocted candidacy that was created in 2005 to, presumably, encourage professional athletes to give it their all...for the first 100 games of a 162 game season.
Disclaimer: Given that it's both much more likely and interesting, I'm going to assume this was the work of a fan, as opposed to one of the rarest and most inconveniently timed alarms in sports history. And well, I suppose that's one way to stretch a 7th inning. It's not a particularly organic or admirable one. However, having never felt strongly enough about any game to decide to instill fear into the thousands upon thousands of people in attendance in hopes that an interruption might influence its outcome, I do oddly respect how much the fella that cried "fire!" loves his Cincinnati Reds. We're talking about 1-of-162 being played between teams battling for last place in their division during the dog days of summer. To still be so worried about a basement-dweller being no-hit at this point in a lost season that a stadium-wide false alarm feels like a fitting attempt to freeze it from coming to fruition requires almost an unforeseen level of allegiance. Now, given the emotionally-instigated stupidity of sports' fans, I do worry that the faux-vindication provided by the dependable bat of Joey Votto (who definitely didn't need the pitcher to be distracted to do his damage) might inspire copycat culprits. However, as a one-off act of gamesmanship, I can appreciate that someone went above and beyond the call of self-appointed duty to make sure his crappy team graced his presence with at least one hit. Sucks that Austin Gomber's rhythm was the victim, but at least he has an excuse, as the odds weren't in his favor to finish with a spotless stat line regardless.
Welp, that explains it. Gary Sanchez wasn't absurdly lackadaisical in getting down the first base line on the bases-loaded, game-deciding double play he presumably could have beaten out had he been running at anywhere close to full speed, he was just hurt and decided not to tell anyone. He didn't actively choose to dog it, he was physically incapable of doing anything other than dogging before putting himself in a situation in which dogging it was sure to cost his team the game. Whew, what a relief! I bet knowing that Gary Sanchez would have continued playing at a lackluster level if not for being forced to use his compromised health as an excuse for taking a light jog into the loss column is sure to make Yankees' fans feel better about the situation! Their starting catcher wasn't lazy, despite getting halfway to first before showing any actual urgency in the most urgent of situations. He was stubborn and selfish in a way that, if not for him being outed in the most embarrassing fashion possible, would have unnecessarily persisted throughout a long season that provided for than enough time for 10 days of rest, relaxation, and recuperation to a struggling starter, but definitely, definitely not lazy! He still put forth a losing effort in very winnable game, but at least he decided to be self-serving well before he power walked through a 6-4-3 double play...when he allowed the fist run of the game to score from second during his casual stroll to a runaway rebound...
Anyway, I hope we all learned a valuable lesson here, and that's that we should never jump to conclusions...in underestimating how stupidly professional athletes can act when their competitiveness is either in question or in high gear...
It's times like this when I'm forced to acknowledge the sheer idiocy of being a sports' fan. I'd be lying, to myself mostly, if I said that - if only for a fleeting moment of introspection - it didn't make me question whether the awe-inspiring highs were worthy of the abhorrent lows that come with rooting for common clothes over common sense. It's not so much an indictment of Brewers' fans (though Milwaukee is more...shall I say...regionally inclined to an uptick on the decibel level of one of the more dumbfounding standing ovations you'll ever witness), for every team has supporters who are liable to view the field of play as a moral-free zone. Instead, it's yet another indictment of fandom as a socially stupid construct that has, does, and probably always will run counterproductive to progressiveness. Now, it might not be the worst one, as it would be pretty damn hard to top the amount of fans - of all genders - that showed up to Ray Rice's first preseason game immediately following the domestically violent TKO seen around the 'WWW' in Ravens' jerseys that donned the #27. Still, to loudly cheer for the mere appearance of a pitcher whose blatant prejudice, be it a result of youthful ignorance or not, was willfully on public display for years on-end before getting dug up by internet sleuths (who I find to be relatively despicable in their own right) is to display priorities that are just as out-of-whack as the wackness of Josh Hader's attempts at self-expression during his late teenage years. A light clap that doesn't differ greatly from one that any reliever might receive upon his insertion into a game would have been more than enough to show Josh Hader that an adopted family is also quick to forgive the most unforgivable of failures. That said, it's important to note that even his biological family couldn't bear their own damn name in the tidal wave-esque wake of his wrongs... The people that are genetically predisposed to taking a bullet for Josh Hader weren't about to take a verbal beating on his behalf, so for those whose familiarity with him begins with his outfit and ends with his ERA to not take the hint is nothing short of a black-eye on a culture that's too often blissful in its ignorance. I'd like to think you can't survive in professional sports if you believe in even 15% of what Josh Hader tweeted in pre-2013, so I'm optimistic enough to believe that a teenager who was disproportionally close-minded and discriminatory for his age has greatly grown and matured over the last seven years. Be that as it may (or may not), there is absolutely nothing hopeful about setting the bar for a hero's welcome at saying "sorry" for a spectacularly sizable spattering of racism and homophobia. Defending the indefensible with a resounding reception that was fit for a recently released prisoner of war simply because he's getting ready to take the pressure off your team defense during crunch time isn't a show of acceptance or support. Not even letting him throw a single pitch before throwing away their dignity was a celebration of abject stupidity that displays a combination of the dangerously subjective blindness, deafness, and dumbness that makes sports' fan look worse and worse as the societal lens continues to zoom in on them as a whole. That boisterous subsection of Brewers' fans is far from alone in their barbaric compartmentalization, but if you juxtapose that standing ovation next to the reaction that a certain former 49ers' quarterback received for kneeling in protest of beliefs that run pretty parallel to the following and you still don't see the problem then you are - without question - part of it.
What could be derived from this video, and especially the back story that followed, is that the internet is a context-free cess pool that makes it way too easy to dump on the moral fiber of complete strangers without even having a full grasp of what little we know we've seen of them. Unfortunately, if that were considered "news" at this point then it would be about as breaking as the ligaments in the elbow of Tommy John himself, so therefore the most notable part of this story is that it's victim kind of stinks at appearing sympathetic. In most cases, we'd offer a halfhearted apology to a person who was unjustly charged with being a thief of innocence in the court of public opinion, but in this case it just doesn't seem completely called for. Whether that Cubs fan had already given a ball to a kid or not, he was objectively too damn happy to happen upon one rolled to him from 5 feet away after being soft-tossed to a glove of someone who was so neglectful in his defensive awareness that he might be able to give Manny a few lessons in "being Manny". The fan in question reportedly doesn't deserve to be criticized for shamelessly beating a child in a game of Finders Keepers, but celebrating that pity prize as if he were a Mets' diehard caroling the ball that rolled through Bill Buckner's legs seems a wee bit excessive depending on how strictly you uphold social norms. I mean, he pridefully posed that thing to his significantly other like he had just snuck up behind it with a self-carved club, beat it unconscious, and dragged it back to his cave to dissect as sustenance for the upcoming sun cycle. The self-affirmative clap and the thigh pat to an impressed peer were just icing on the least humble pie you've ever encountered. I'm all for both loving the game and loving one's self, but - as social media forces us to make something out of nothing - I'm familiar with something being made out of nothing when I see it. The most recent victim of the internet's instinctual outrage was at least guilty of that, so I'm glad that someone much more modest got something even cooler out of the whole ordeal...even if, in retrospect, the lack of a shit given by that kid and his mother made it obvious that he already had a ball...
I don't particularly want to get into a debate about whether or not Mike Trout owes it the league that employs him to step out of his comfort zone, as the mild-mannered masher and indomitable introvert that he is, to market a professional sport whose popularity is regional at best and dwindling at worst. That's mostly because the idea that he should feel obligated to participate in anything outside of 162 contracted games per season (not counting media availability and charitable endeavors) is patently absurd. However, it's also because turning the MLB's marketing issue into a one-on-one pissing contest between a single athlete and the person responsible for overseeing upwards of one thousand athletes tells you all you need to know about how narrow-minded Rob Manfred and Co. have been at solving it. I get it. Based on what the transcendency of his talent calls for, Mike Trout's 'Q Score' might as well have graded out as an 'F'. The consensus best player in baseball being merely as recognizable to the general public as a NBA role player who is most known for his hairstyle at this point in his career is an awful, awful look for the MLB, and for that reason it absolutely had to be brought up to its foremost authority. It's the targeted response from said authority, that loosely translates to "why don't you ask him why he's not more popular?", that I take umbrage with... I'm sure the question referenced Mike Trout by name, but I find it quite worrisome that the person that it was asked of couldn't see that it was clearly hinting at a far broader phenomenon. Imagine Gary Bettman being pushed on the NHL's need for more goals after a low-scoring Penguins playoff game, and him responding by saying "Sidney Crosby is too pass-happy, what the hell do you want me to do about it?". If hockey isn't your thing then picture Adam Silver taking a question about parity in the NBA that invokes the Warriors' dominance as an example and him slamming a cupcake on the table with candles that read 'KD' sticking out of the icing and walking off stage. Pointing a finger at the one specific guy that's indifferent about the camera being pointed at him is ironic, but the implication that the Angels' outfielder, as incredible as he may be, is the end-all and be-all of baseball players whose playing style could prove profitable if advertised properly is nothing short of moronic. I suppose it would be cool if Mike Trout had both a vibrant personality and a desire to put it on display on a daily basis, but him not wanting to singlehandedly take on the task of growing the game doesn't let the people whose actual job it is to do so off the hook. Get the asses in the seats and he'll do his best to keep him there, but if orchestrating dog-and-pony shows is a stipulation in anyone's contract then it's that of the person who swung and completely missed the point by making a league-wide problem personal.
I want to make one thing clear, there's no valid excuse for even one umpire, never mind two, to miss that call. Completely whiffing on a baseball is an inherently blatant act and this one was no different, so shame must go to the multiple people who somehow thought otherwise despite being paid to focus intently on what's taken place in front of them on the baseball diamond. That being said, I can kind of feel their pain. Maybe it's the undiagnosed ADD talking, but doesn't crouching behind a plate and paying the closest of attention to what is, at its core, a monotonous game of pitch and catch seem absolutely exhausting? I mean, these two idiots signed up for it, but watching them fail miserably at focusing is a reminder of why I never would. Even during shows I am fully invested in I'm liable to need a replay after catching myself mindlessly watching, so who the hell am I to act like falling asleep at the proverbial wheel isn't an innately human practice? It doesn't particularly make any sense for two separate officials to get caught simultaneously engaging in it during the first inning of a game. However, in (justifiably) mocking these two morons it's important to note that we do so from a high horse, as - generally speaking - our bouts of obliviousness at the workplace aren't being broadcasted. Sidenote: I would definitely be the angle-worker who was taking a selfie during a historically stupid play and left wondering what all the hubbub was about after. The "phone", in my case, would have either been a structurally flawed hot dog (too many condiments) or a beer that was rapidly losing it's refreshment to the summer sun. Either way, I could have been sitting two rows away the ineptitude and it's likely I'd still need the use of the internet to find out about it. Just goes to show that even umpiring has made more difficult by social media, especially when you're really, really bad at it...
I don't know about you, but I couldn't have been more happy to have the undeniable brilliance of Bryce Harper's bat downplayed by a reminder of the most outdated of Home Run Derby rules. It might be a rule that's as senseless as calling traveling in a slam dunk contest, but in a challenge that's result is simply determined by who can hit the most balls the furthest in a short and specified amount of time, the thing we should all be most worried about is proper spacing between pitches. For a moment there I thought a heartwarming father/son moment that was undeniably endearing to even the most casual of fan was the best possible result for baseball. However, in retrospect, it definitely would have been better to blow the proverbial whistle on a furious rally, stop the clock before it got beaten in a way that set up a superstar for a walk-off kill shot in his home stadium, and accuse the two generations of Harper's in question of cheating. To those that think it seems ass backwards to ask players to admire their dingers during a 4-minute round when doing so over the course of a 4-hour game will get them beaned in the hip with a fastball, I say that rules are rules...even if they are inconsistent, exist for no logical reason, and completely contradict the point of the competition. Don't get me wrong. Watching Bryce Harper display an extraordinary rush of power, focus, and endurance that made it seem as though he sucked down some of Popeye's spinach during his last timeout was really awesome, but since when is treating the fans to the most entertaining show possible during a gimmicky game whose popularity is largely driven by their interest the golden rule of the Home Run Derby?
In all seriousness, I'm just going to need those that adhere to everything baseball-related as strictly as they stick to the script of their Bible teachings to shut the hell up for the sake of their own sport. I know it's more so the upset gamblers arguing on behalf of lost wages and pissy Cubs fans arguing on behalf of Kyle Schwarber than ticked off traditionalists, but they all sound mind-numbingly stupid in a way that reminds everyone that some baseball fans don't even deserve nice things.
Look, if only because I find both parties to be extremely douchey, I don't want to take sides here. Running on the field at professional sporting event was pointless before it became played out, and taking it upon yourself to act as the gavel in laying down the law on perpetrators of something as harmless as in-stadium statutes is some sanctimonious nonsense. Without knowing them outside of one of the biggest plot twists in the history of short-but-sweet internet clips, I'd say both these kids are at equal but opposite ends of the insufferableness scale. That's why I can't feel bad for the dude that thought he was home free before getting absolutely buckled by the most brutal of citizen's arrests. It was both a bit of a cheap shot and a self-serving of show how overly serious baseball fans are when it comes to the "sanctity" of their sport, but the motivation behind that spear was only as insincere as that of the streaker. When it comes down to it, that was obnoxious, attention-seeking bro on obnoxious, attention-seeking bro crime, but only one of them was original in carrying out his quest for viral fame. I'd still too close to call as to who I dislike more. However, when it comes to whose actions got more of visceral reaction out of me, I begrudgingly have to give the nod to the snitch that decided to uphold justice on behalf of stadium security like a complete loser. At least that try-hard showed me something I've never seen before, even if it was also a shameless ploy for retweets...
LBS- The Cleveland Indians blew a 4-0 lead in the ninth inning against the Cincinnati Reds on Tuesday, and a bullpen miscommunication was a big factor.
Cody Allen struggled in his attempt to close out a 4-0 lead and exited the game with the bases loaded, two outs, and the score 4-3. The Indians needed one out to end the game, but the dangerous Joey Votto was due up. Indians manager Terry Francona wanted Oliver Perez to face Votto in a lefty-lefty matchup, but there was a miscommunication. According to Francona, pitching coach Carl Willis thought Francona asked for “OP,” but Willis heard “OT.” OP would have been Oliver Perez, but “OT” turned out to be Dan Otero. So the wrong pitcher was called for out of the bullpen. Otero allowed a bases-clearing double to Votto then a walk and a single before the inning ended with Cincinnati up 7-4. Cleveland couldn’t score in the bottom of the ninth and lost. Keep in mind that in addition to the lefty-lefty matchup compared to Otero, who is a right-hander, Perez has a 0.77 ERA this season vs. Otero’s 5.71 mark. ------ First and foremost, a tip of the cap is owed to the Cincinnati Reds. As complicit as the Cleveland Indians were in falling asleep at the wheel just prior to parking themselves in the win column, sparking a last second comeback the likes of which hasn't been seen since the days in which a fat drunk had the entire sport of baseball by its bat is nonetheless impressive...
That said, the miscommunication that let to said comeback is just further evidence for a theory I've long stood by. So, one more time for the people in the cheap seats... THE BASEBALL SEASON IS TOO DAMN LONG! I'm willing to listen to other explanations for a bullpen coach's inability to use common sense in crunch time and warming up a reliever that had no business facing one of the best hitters in baseball with the bases loaded and the game on the line, but right now the fatigue of 162 games played primarily through the dead of summer is the most logical reason I can conjure up for such carelessness. I suppose I could also point to Cleveland Indians use of generic and oddly similar nicknames as a basis for the confusion. However, since simply looking at the direness of the situation or the handedness of the players involved in the confusion could have cleared it up, I think I'm sticking with blaming the dog days for a coach's mental cat nap. Again, the Reds deserve all the credit in the world popping out the casket right before it got lowered into the ground, but the Indians completely losing all forms of focus during the burial isn't exactly a great look for baseball. The idea that the man whose job it is to prepare the players with which a victory is to be trusted was about as attentive during a call to the bullpen as he is when his wife tells a work story would be alarming, if not for the idea that it seems like an extremely monotonous practice to partake in by mid-July.
Now, that's what I call dedication to the craft! Filling hour after hour of dead air during a baseball season that can get pretty boring is an art, and Jon Sciambi is so devoted to painting the perfect picture that he can't even watch a game he's not calling without instinctively sharpening the tools of his trade. Say what you want about his yet-to-be-diagnosed ADD, but don't say that the guy who caught himself practicing during a break in the game treats broadcasting as more of a profession than a passion! Considering this apparent propensity to just start blurting out exactly what he happens to be watching at any given time, I probably wouldn't enjoy drinking beers next to him in the cheap seats, much less companying him to the movies. That said, you can't ask for much more out of an announcer than a guy who might randomly break into giving the play-by-play of his day-to-day. Especially when said guy has the rare ability to laugh at himself despite making a mistake while working a job that is too often taken too seriously.
This bet is such a nonsensical lose-lose that, even by insecure teenage boy standards, it's one that could only be mildly explained by the influence of rapidly chased shots of grain alcohol. Trevor Bauer doesn't drink, so take that as your introduction to the type of grown ass man child that we are talking about here. I never thought that a fuck-ton of financial security would become the sworn enemy of toxic masculinity after fueling it for so many years, but if the Indians' pitcher was willing to put his testicles in its crosshairs (guns, fuck yeah!) then maximizing one's worth must also be one of the many things that are now "for pussies". Look, as much as I'd like to sit here and besmirch the entire existence of the type of Trump supporter that worships the ground on which the Donald waddles, the truth is that this "gentleman's agreement" that was made between two immature idiots is a win-win for society as a whole. It's not quite natural selection, but Trevor Bauer is likely going to end up retiring with the regret of wages lost to the exacerbated aging process of starting pitchers (or the unforgiving blades of a drone) or he's going to put his ability to reproduce in the hands of a highly pressurized paint pellet. Personally, I'd rather the latter come to fruition, but since he's seems adamant about overvaluing both his balls and his word, I think we're better off crossing our fingers that he misses out on as much unearned money as possible. I'm usually all for professional athletes securing the biggest possibly bag during the limited window in which they are able to do so, but - judging by the shocking sobriety of his beer muscles - there's no better person to be left clutching his sac as that window closes on him than Trevor Bauer. You get what you deserve when you consider stupidly sourced personal pride to be priceless.
Color me skeptical. I might end up owing Chris Bosio an apology (or the Detroit Tigers a shaming) in the long run, but the idea that the one time in which a professional sports team was actually quick to cut ties is the instance in which they were unprofessional in their investigation seems at least mildly far fetched. If anything, organizations typically tend to defend themselves from the top down for too long, so the thought of the Tigers' GM, Assistant GM, and Manager all sat down and unanimously sided with a paranoid clubhouse attendant over a pitching coach due solely to the contextless utterance of an animal seems a little odd. Speaking extremely generally, older (predominantly white) men who make their living in baseball don't exactly have a storied history of being too sensitive in regards to racially charged innuendo, and there was apparently nothing hung about the jury of his own peers that found him guilty of crossing the line. Now, I'm not calling Chris Bosio a liar, but I do feel inclined to look into the functionality of his family life after he swore on the graves of his dead parents (RIP) that all he did was allude to the primate-like facial features of one of his white players. If not because he was given free reign to retroactively put harmless words in his own mouth then because he clearly doesn't know how nicknames work...
As it turns out, there is a benefit to the internet's endless desire to be in the know. It might illicit angry, un-nuanced mobs on damn near a daily basis, but at least it stops the (allegedly) guilty party from influencing the public by speaking their side of the story first. I only wanted to know exactly what the "insensitive comments" were because I'm a nosy and intrusive sports fan that has been made to feel entitled to such information by too much time on Twitter. However, if I did know then I would probably have a much firmer grasp on which party to hurl insult after insult at right about now. It's really tough to believe that a low level employee was just going about his day, heard the term "spider monkey" off in the distance, automatically assumed the absolute worst, and managed to convince the ENTIRE organization that one of their coaches was an intolerant asshole. That said, when you let said coach craft his personal account (that's currently not even being backed by the person he was supposedly talking to) around a charge as vague and benign as being "insensitive" then it's pretty easy for him to sway the court of public opinion in his favor. It's innocent until proven guilty, and if the prosecution has a case then they really should have already laid it on the table. If not because sports fans want to know how inappropriate the verbiage has to be to get you canned with the quickness then because, more likely than not, it would preemptively make any sort of defense look both dumb and discriminatory. UPDATE: ...there it is, and with it goes Chris Bosio's employability...
"Bosio called the attendant, who is African-American, a “monkey,” according to four team sources. The remark was directed toward the young man, who was collecting towels from the coaches’ room at the time, during a post-game gripe session in which Bosio was lamenting about a pitcher. During this exchange, Bosio made a derogatory comment about one of the Tigers pitchers and then gestured toward the attendant before adding, “like this monkey here,” the sources said. The attendant pushed back at Bosio for the comment, and an additional team employee witnessed the exchange. Bosio was provided an opportunity to apologize to the attendant after his outburst but declined to do so, according to multiple sources." (h/t TheAthletic)
What do we assume a ticket to a weekday afternoon game for the Okotoks Dawgs is running people these days? Five dollars and change, give or take given that loonie exchange rate? Whatever it is, I can guarantee that all 275 fans in attendance got their money's worth once that first seat cleared the dirt. I mean, there is very little else that can happen during a minor league baseball game that's as worth the price of admission as an adult temper tantrum that furnishes the first base line, so I'm glad these folks got in at the ground floor. Granted, I can't speak to how well Mitch Schmidt (perfect name, btw) will manage his anger going forward, but that form is undoubtedly not of a man that just threw his first or last chair. The backwards overhead toss that maximizes both lower body strength and hang time is such a veteran move that it would make Bobby Knight blush. With what I can only imagine is a limited amount of entertainment options in Alberta, I think the mere possibility of a repeat performance is enough to make the Okotoks Dawgs the hottest ticket in province. Come one, come all, to see the best seat in the house get tossed in the general direction of an underpaid umpire! Let's set the scene. Arkansas up 1-0 in a best of three series. Up 3-2 in top of the 9th. Two outs, with only one to go before claiming the championship as their own. In the infamous words of Terrell Owens, get ya popcorn ready... Most would call that a heartbreaking turn of events that could easily carry over to a third and deciding game that was one competent call-off away from not being at all necessary, because...well...that's exactly what it is. Arkansas would have been totally justified in having nightmares of their three fielders standing helplessly in a circle like they were trying to decide who was driving to the bar as a championship bounced right out of their grasp. You know, if not for the fact that waking up in a cold sweat probably wouldn't prove beneficial to them in foretelling tonight's final. That said, it could also be described as simply as "welp, that's college sports for ya". For, as many times as we are reminded that the NCAA is a solid stepping stone to the pros, it's just as often that we are reminded that it's not only an amateur association in its laughable lack of compensation. I heard about the most untimely of fundamental fuck ups before I saw it, and I have to admit that I was actually expecting worse. That's not to downplay how deeply that mental image will be burned into their brains if the Razorbacks don't swing with a shortness of memory tonight, but it is to say that I've seen pressure baked situations make college kids look dumber. Those momentary lapses don't always set into motion a monumentally volatile example of Murphy's Law, but when they do it's impossible not to be checked with the reality that it's especially not over until it's over when the game is being played between 18-22 year olds. Right, ESPN?
Major League Baseball Is Potentially Loosening Both Their Sphincter And Their Restrictions On Cleats6/28/2018
Yahoo- Major League Baseball and the MLB Players Association are discussing changes to the league’s footwear policy that would relax the restrictions on colors and designs players can use on their cleats, sources familiar with the negotiations told Yahoo Sports.
Multiple officials said they are optimistic that the sides will come to an agreement and modernize the types of shoes available in-game to players. After rules were loosened for last year’s successful Players Weekend – which, sources said, is expected to return this season – both sides saw the benefit to a more open policy. The public censuring of the rules by the Chicago Cubs’ Ben Zobrist and Cleveland Indians’ Mike Clevinger expedited the urgency of the sides to move in a mutually beneficial direction, sources said. The deal is far from done, as the involvement of two branches of each office – labor relations and business – complicates the talks. One source familiar with the negotiations expects at a minimum the relaxation of rules on shoe color and style, though just how relaxed is unclear. ----- I want to credit Major League Baseball for getting over their obsession with obsessive uniformity, but all it does is remind me that the bar for appearing open-minded is so, so, so low. Better late than never I suppose, but the fact that it's taken until 2018 for braintrust of baseball men to realize that there's almost no risk to what would be considered a huge reward to their players sheds light on a damn near disgraceful disconnect. In a "keep expectations low and it's easier to meet them" sort of way, it makes sense for the MLB to keep a dress code that's prep school strict, but giving guys in their early 20's to early 30's freedom of footwear is such a simple, simple way to ingratiate yourself to both them and the fleeting number of fans their age. Now, I shouldn't expect a bunch of old, repressed white men that still can't see the fruitful forest of social media marketing beyond the primly-trimmed trees of their own arrogance to understand the interests of the relatively youthful. After all, even the much more personality friendly NFL (admittedly, that's not saying much) hasn't fully plucked the stick from their ass in regards to colorful cleats. Still, the idea that it's taken this long for a multi-billion dollar operation with struggling popularity to put in the half a second of "hipness" required to see multiple shoe options as a potential starting point is a painful reminder of how out-of-touch the top is from the bottom. Whatever kudos I would have been willing to offer MLB for relaxing on their re-kick-tions just got tossed in the trash, as a deal this risk adverse being "far from done" is proof positive that the allowance of bargain basement originality is just being used as another bargaining chip.
I feel robbed. Cheated, really. I didn't even know who Chris Bosio was until five minutes ago, but now I feel as though I need to know what he said to get himself fired. We'll likely never find out, as - judging by the abruptness of the decision - it could be a very poor reflection on the Detroit Tigers for hiring him in the first place, but that just doesn't sit well with me in this current media climate of unabashed intrusiveness. That had to be one humdinger of a slanderous barb to get him quickly crossed off a payroll that's probably no stranger to mildly disgruntled employees after only half a season. However, to truly stigmatize the stupidity of people with such great gigs that sacrifice them by way of verbal and physical harassment a bit more information than "insensitive comments" is needed. In all seriousness, this isn't the first time or last time that someone's mouth will have quickly cost them their job in sports, but having words that were uttered privately be gotten out ahead of by significant action publicly is quite the novel strategy in addressing a surefire scandal. Selfishly, I would have rather aided in shaming Chris Bosio into unemployment after his quote, that sounds like it very well might carry some sort of ___-ist label, inevitably leaked and his employer was strong-armed into cutting ties. That said, a tip of the hat is due to the Detroit Tigers for learning from the mistakes of so many organizations that failed miserably before them and taking a proactive approach to running a professional team by maintaining a positive, all-inclusive working environment. Apparently it's a lot more difficult than it reads. |
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