162 games have deemed themselves irrelevant as the fate of two baseballing establishments boils down (really a gross phrase if you think about it) to one night. If you were looking for legitimate analysis, you clicked on the wrong link bud. Instead, we gave you some funny pictures:
It’s just another Manic Monday, which means Barbecast 9 is here to be consumed by some undetermined number of humans. Our special guest is Stevo Sama of death metal fame and fortune as well as his baseball knowledge. You can see some rather vile pictures of Stevo below. He was fantastic and we had no idea what references he was making the whole time. Follow him @yoshiki89. He also bLOLgs about basebLOL at http://xtrabasehit.blogspot.com/. Excuse the plus-plus technical difficulties. Our e-mails include the return of Little Poop, a discussion about our baseball cabinet and debating freedom…or something. Baseball talk includes a long discussion about tiebreakers and our ideas to improve them and make them more entertaining. This of course is significantly less relevant now that the three-way tie can’t happen, but it’s still a fun discussion mostly revolving around Tropicana Field. Our new segment is TALES FROM LOGDOG featuring everyone’s favorite, Lana Berry. We talked for like five minutes and it was almost funny. Thanks for listening <3
My favorite movie ever is Angels in the Outfield. It reminds me of when I was 6 years old and my biggest concern was whether or not Delino DeShields got a hit that day. I recently re-watched and .gifed all the best parts. There are two categories: Triscuitt Messmer and not Triscuitt Messmer.
NOT TRISCUITT MESSMER
George Knox is done with your shenanigans. He’s also done with the post-game spread. Also, what are those red plastics cups doing in the clubhouse? Maybe the Angels sucked in the beginning of the movie because they were too busy partying like teenagers.
This how we all feel when we watch Jose Fernandez. Angels goofball pitcher Whit Bass must have seen into the future or something. Also of note: another player on the Angels with a fish name. First Whit Bass, then Tim Salmon, and now Chris Iannetta.
Okay so basically the Angels catcher Triscuitt Messmer is the best thing ever. It’s a Japhet Amador body but behind the dish. He has the social skills of Zack Greinke with Asperger’s and the accent of a bleacher creature. The base running is easily base-clogger status, but his #want is off the charts. Let’s take a closer look at Triscuitt… (also, his name is Triscuitt)
EPISODE OCHO has arrived and it is probably my favorite episode we’ve ever done. Our super special guest is Lana Berry. If you don’t know who that is then you aren’t reading this because you couldn’t possibly be on the Internet. You can follow Lana @lana but you already knew that. We talked for way too long about Lance Berkman, advice for college, and other baseball related nonsense #followlogdog. Our e-mail segment was longer than ever and we got some good ones. Topics included the Amish Red Sox (see below), Old Man Jake, annoying spelling rules and family Poop talk. Baseball talk was brief due to reasons explained during the podcast. Our musical guest is ALL OF THE IPHONE RINGTONES. No, seriously. Enjoy and thanks for listening <3
I don’t have a vote for the Cy Young award, but if I did I would vote for one of these three pitchers.
In today’s baseball world, strikeouts are key. They are the lifeblood to any good pitcher.
Ground balls are awesome too by the way.
Also important in today’s modern baseball world are rate stats. Counting stats are frowned upon by many, especially those who cannot count.
Therefore the only way to get good stats are to combine these concepts. When we mix rate stats and strikeouts, we get a fantastic stat called K/9. K/9 measures how many strikeouts a pitcher averages every nine innings. Combining ground balls and rate stats creates GB%. These advanced metrics are the basis for my plea to the Cy Young voters: Vote McDonald, vote Raburn, and vote Carpenter. Scratch those names and I’ll scratch you. Nope, that was a bad sentence. Let’s just get on with it.
Angels RHP David Carpenter:
Carpenter might have a particularly high ERA for a Cy Young candidate as his ERA currently sits at 108.00. At first glance that appears a bit too high to be considered the best pitcher in the league but hold your horses bucko. We all know that ERA is a flawed stat so this number cannot be trusted. His xFIP is almost A HUNDRED points lower. That’s nuts. He just got unlucky this year.
Carpenter has also been extremely unlucky this year as evidenced by his insane 100% HR/FB rate.
It’s here a week after we recorded it but fuck it, we’re in college and have other things to do besides edit podcasts! It’s Barbecast 7 with emergency special guest Chris Rodriguez of Baseball Prospectus. He is barely legal and you can follow him at @chrisrod13 (#FollowCrod). We talked about shitty California League parks and other things almost baseball. Our e-mails obviously included Andrelton and Big Poop. Just your average Barbecast. Oh and for about three minutes we all thought there was a minor league team in Tuscaloosa. We talked about other stuff but I don’t remember what it was because it was a week ago. Enjoy! #CFB
#rig is more than just a metric or a scouting term or a joke. It’s way of life. It’s everything and nothing at the same time. Our dad Jason Parks described #rig as “#swagger only more penis specific.” We want to take his perfect idea and perfect it, which doesn’t make sense at all.
Coming in at number 5 on our rig rankings is Cincinnati Reds relief pitcher Aroldis Chapman. With a schlong like kong, he patrols the pitcher’s hump like a man on a mission, but not a Morman mission, a more-man mission.
Take a closer look at the pictures below and you can see how baseball pants don’t do their job as much as they assist the #rig to explode and explore. Good thing the Cuban national team wore tight red pants. Chapman loses points for how hard I had to look to get these shots. If I google your name, pictures of your wang shebang should be right there waiting for me.
I sit here at my computer with a sinking feeling in my stomach. All the people close to me are healthy, I haven’t committed any felonies (yet), and I didn’t eat any bad seafood today. My stomach isn’t turning over for any rational reason. You see I’m a Baltimore Orioles fan, which is a disorder that causes upset tummies, uncontrollable headaches, and sore throats. My Orioles, yes my Orioles, just lost a heart breaker to the Yankees. I shouldn’t give a crap, I shouldn’t want to smash the walls and scream until my voice gives out, but I do and I don’t want to apologize for that.
It all started September 5th, 1995, the day that Cal Ripken Jr. tied Lou Gehrig’s record for consecutive games played. September 5th 1995 was also the day I was born. My grandmother, a life-long Baltimorean, decided that my mother’s 18 hours of labor were of secondary importance to what was going on at Camden Yards. “I already have grandchildren” she said to my mother as she left the hospital room “And I’ll have more, but I’ll never see this again.” She came to the conclusion that the birth of her daughter’s first child was less important than watching a celebration of man who simply went to work everyday. She chose a game over my birth, and guess what; I would have done the same god damned thing.
Fandom is stupid. Fandom is completely and utterly irrational. Thousands of people cram themselves into crowded stadiums on sweaty summer nights to watch men they’ll never know play a game they’ll never fully understand. They’ll come out in droves night after night, day after day, and weird 7:07 Blue Jays start time after weird 7:07 Blue Jays start time. Fandom has existed for centuries before I was born and will exist centuries after I die. People ask; what’s the point? I have no idea.
I don’t know why I care so much about something so trivial. I’m not sure why a 21 year old’s inability to hit a white thing with a stick makes my insides topple like an avalanche. I don’t know the answer to these things, but I don’t think I have to.
I’ve formulated this entire piece around a conclusion at the end that eloquently explains why I’ve submitted to fandom. The only problem is that I don’t have a reason. I don’t have any funny metaphors or cute world play to throw at you. I thought I might, but I don’t. I can’t put into words why millions of people around the world live and die by their teams. I’m not able to formulate any coherent reasons for you at this moment in time. I’m not going to go back and edit this because I don’t particularly want to. I know this whole rant was supposed to end cleverly as I explained to you how fandom isn’t nuts. It was supposed to end with a witty line where I pulled it all back to my grandmother. Maybe I’m not a good enough writer to write this piece. Maybe I’m naïve and when I get older I’ll grow up and understand that fandom is idiotic. Maybe fandom is something that is better left unexplained.