12-0? I’m fucking done” – FreshWC text @ 10:50 pm 
How bad do we look this morning? The Cardinals took us for the tool bags we are. Made us think we had a chance; nobody comes in our house blah, blah, blah… We didn’t have a chance. We don’t have a chance. This group of mouthbreathers rolled out of bed and had their minds made up- let’s shit all over the fans of St. Louis. Take a giant fucking dump and put 44,000 noses right in it to teach ’em a lesson. Point taken you overpaid, un-clutch shitbums. We get it, you’re not that good AND you don’t want to compete.
12-0.
At home.
In THE must win game of the year and our awww-geez fans sat their in stunned silence as not one Cardinal player even remotely wanted to sack up. Why didn’t we make a move at the trade deadline again? I’m pissed. Pissed I gave two fucking shits about this team. Pissed I’ve got to watch our pitching get torched every big game, while our bats are limper than Bob Dole’s dick. And yes, I just made a Bob fucking Dole joke because frankly this team doesn’t deserve comedy gold.
Awful on every end. But once again, we got the ass end. Fuck You St. Louis… These guys couldn’t give shit less. They still got paid and laid… you got 12 runs shoved up your ever-patient, never questioning, always believing, rah rah asses.
Feel good?
Who cares!
The Cardinals are going to do it anyway. Thanks for nothing boys. Absolutely nothing. Any chance the Brewers start the game with jerseys untucked? I would if I were them.
Fucking quitters.
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no runs scored, 7 allowed in the ninth…and that sums up the season.
The last time the Brewers played the Cards they were riding a four game win streak, just like they are right now. The concluded that four game series with an eight game win streak, thanks in large part to three blown opportunities from the bullpen, two from Ryan Franklin.
The bullpen’s different now. Closer Chris Perez has no ghosts from that series to haunt him this time around. But you can’t put all the blame on the pen. The Cardinals offense never scored more than 3 runs in any of those four games, and got shut out in one of them. The batters, particularly the big guys protecting Pujols, will have to be the difference makers in this short, but incredibly important series.
Tonight’s starter, Todd Wellemeyer, has pitched well against Milwaukee this season. In two starts, he owns a 1.64 ERA to go with 11 hits, 5 BB and 4 K in 11 innings of work. He’s been solid through the month of August, with a 3-0 record over his last 4 starts to go with a 2.13 ERA and 2/1 K/BB ratio and an opposing OPS of .662 through 25+ innings. Wainwright starts tomorrow, so only an obsessive is worried about the starters at this point.
Like I said, it’s the bats that need to come through. Looking back at the lineup used the last time the Cards faced the Brewers’ Ben Sheets, tonight’s starter, TLR went with Ankiel, Glaus and Ludwick in the 4,5 and 6 spots. Lately, Ludwick has been working out of the #2 spot, with Ankiel and Glaus at 4 and 5. But, this being TLR, the only certainty is Pujols hitting third. Schumaker leading off seems incredibly likely as well.
Ludwick has hit well against the Brewers through his magical, out-of-nowhere season. The 30 home run wonder has a .921 OPS against the Beer Men and 3 of his long balls in 42 plate appearances, and he’s been hitting well through his last 10 games, .286/.340/.524 with 2 HRs. The others, however, have been struggling.
Rick Ankiel is hitting .138 through his last 10 games, and he’s experienced a real power outage against the Brewers with a .326 SLG and just one extra base hit in 49 plate appearances. Glaus has been better lately, hitting .284/.391/.459 through August. He hasn’t exactly punctuated his season with his performance against the Brewers. He’s hitting .256/.451/.385 against them, a great OBP, but a problematic slugging percentage for a guy hitting in the RBI producing part of the lineup. Glaus needs to up his power numbers to maintain his usefulness.
Against Sheets, all three hitter struggle. Ankiel’s 2 for 6; Glaus is 0 for 6; Ludwick’s 0 for 3. Pujols, fortunately, has a 1.027 OPS against him, and this might be the first time the Cards will miss Chris Duncan who has 3 HRs in 14 ABs against Sheets. Starting Miles and Kennedy, a switch hitter and a lefty, wouldn’t be a bad idea; they’re hitting .333 and .294, respectively, against Sheets.
No pressure boys, no pressure.
Sphere: Related ContentSeasons aren’t the games; they’re the moments. The moments when Pujols hits a
milestone or Miles hits a walk-off grand slam- those are what you take from a 162 game schedule. Most of the time you can’t plan to see a moment… it just happens. But every now and again you get to witness a turning point- a finite moment- and you know its coming.
Tonight it’s coming.
The Milwaukee Brewers come to town this evening and it’s pretty simple, really. If the Cardinals win they’re certified Wild Card Contenders and the season gets exciting. A loss and a very nice season becomes a very nice third place season. We’ll know the moment tonight- the exact point in which the season is redeemed or relegated. And frankly- I’m pretty jacked…
Last time the Brewers came to St. Louis, they actually had fans come out to the ballpark. Surprising, right? That doesn’t mean they’re aren’t embarrassing links out there we can post:
- Adam Sandler thinks the Brewers suck. LINK HERE
- Vote on how bad the Brewers suck. LINK HERE
- Kids that fish hate the Brewers. LINK HERE
- If you need something to wear to the game. LINK HERE
- Yahoo! Answers gets to the bottom of things. LINK HERE
Win series, lose ground. Vicious division the Cardinals are in this year I say and it’s not getting any easier. Tuesday the Brewers come to BIII for the final 2 games of the season series. The Cardinals absolutely must win both games to stay in contention for the Wild Card. If Milwaukee leaves town with a 4 or 3 game lead with no head to head left; toast. Much more on this 2008 make or break series coming soon, but for now please head over to InsideSTL.com and read my regular Monday column…
Sphere: Related ContentGracious peace, I almost forgot it! Thank heaven RVB is a kinder, gentler taskmaster than any of my English teachers ever were. At least I can submit this book report before summer ends officially and without fear of being laughed at by my peers or penalized one full letter grade for every class meeting that it’s late. Actually, my teachers were never that tough. I, however, quickly became the self-designated wicked witch of the West—and did penalize my students that full letter grade. There was always that one or two who thought they could call my bluff. Only I wasn’t bluffin’. Believe you me, they only challenged me once.
I digress. ATH once said that he and I and RVB, and now we can add our own Rhodes Scholar to that list, basically had no life outside of baseball. Sigh, he’s right. I love this game so much that I even read books about it. Wonderful writers and researchers have written lots of material for me to wade through. “The Road to Cooperstown” by Tom Stanton chronicles the trek that every baseball fan worth a box of salt wants to take (he and his father and brother went to the Hall of Fame; easy, light reading). “Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game?” by Jimmy Breslin regales us with tales of the “inept Mets” (one of the funniest books ever written). Doug Feldman wrote a marvelous book about 1934 depression-era baseball called “Dizzy Dean and the Gashouse Gang” (many of us can recall our parents and grandparents telling tales of Ol’ Diz and his cronies).
That was last year’s reading list, though. This summer’s reading was “Ball Four” by Jim Bouton. If you did not hear me laughing out loud, then you have gone deaf and need to buy hearing aids. Quickly.
By the time he wrote “Ball Four,” Bouton had been a successful pitcher with the New York Yankees, even defeating the Cardinals in a game or two in the 1964 World Series. He got hurt, lost his good stuff, and became a knuckleballer. The book describes his 1969 season after he had been traded to the Seattle Pilots (now the Mariners). He began with Seattle but was assigned to the minor leagues and then concluded that season with the Astros after a second trade within 12 months. Written in journal style, Bouton recounts the day-to-day life of the boys in the bus (the common means of travel for minor league teams back then).
The ups and downs of minor league players are recounted quite sympathetically. After all, he was living with the utter uncertainty they all face. Besides the hardship of low pay for all, the married men were also separated from their families. Remember this was 1969, long before families were allowed to travel with the team. Bouton said that the separation was not nearly as tough on the couple as it was on the children, who, bless their hearts, often did not know where they would wake up.
Then there were the quirks of managers and coaches. Joe Schultz was the Seattle manager, with Sal “The Barber” Maglie as pitching coach. Their skirmishes were epic. Schultz and Maglie wanted him to follow the regular starting pitcher schedule of throwing. Bouton, however, had become a knuckleballer and needed to throw every day. Apparently, the knuckler is “felt” by the pitcher; without throwing it daily, he can lose the “feel” of the pitch.
He recounted that it was mid-season before Maglie actually worked with him in the role of coach. Which means that Maglie finally took the time to show Bouton how Hoyt Wilhelm gripped the ball when he pitched for the Giants. (Wonder if a similar scenario played out with Anthony Reyes?)
On top of that, none of the catchers wanted to catch him. Remember, now, that Bob Uecker said that the best way to catch a knuckleball is to wait until it stops rolling and then bend over and pick it up. I even recall seeing Jason Varitek crouching sideways when he was catching Tim Wakefield. The knuckler is not easy to catch—then or now.
The book is filled with hilarious “duh” statements by the coaches. For example, consider this exchange:
Coach: Don’t challenge Tony Conigliaro (former Red Sox OF).
Pitcher: Huh?
Coach: Don’t throw him a fastball down the middle. You got to spot it.
SB: Duh. Ya think?
There are also some really racy episodes recounted, which should appeal to some who read the CD. BUT, in the interest of encouraging literacy, you’ll just have to read the book yourselves because I won’t recount any of them here. So there.
My favorite line in the book is the last sentence. Bouton recalled that he and Jim O’Toole, who pitched successfully for the Reds for a number of years before going to the Pilots, began the season together, on equal footing with the Pilots. At season’s end, Bouton was with the Astros and O’Toole was languishing with a team in the Kentucky Industrial League, his good stuff gone and essentially washed up. Bouton asked himself if he’d do the same thing when it was over for him. In his own words:
“Yes, I would. You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time.”
Indeed. Indeed.
Sphere: Related ContentFor a very brief time in my life I lived in Knoxville TN. Why is not important. While there I also briefly had a semi-romantic relationship with a girl- we’ll call her Kim. 
Kim and I worked in the same small landscaping company making some extra money in the mornings and during the rest of the day she went to the University of Tennessee. She also played softball. I know, generally softball players aren’t that good looking and more times than not they prefer box- but based on Kim’s interest in me I can tell you that she did not like box and was good looking. I mention this because she shared an apartment with Monica Abbott.
Monica is pretty much the most dominant softball pitcher in the world. Tennessee won the national championship her senior year with a bunch of hacks because she’s that badass. When she graduated she immediately became the best pitcher on the US National softball team. Unfortunately, yesterday, in the last Olympics that softball will be a medal sport, Monica was the pitcher that threw the throw to home plate allowing 2 runners to score and essentially lost the gold medal for her country. I’m not saying that it wasn’t a bad play. And I’m not saying that if you ever met Monica she’d remember who I was. But I am saying that in my limited time hanging out with her that she’s a very nice girl and probably devastated that the US won the silver medal. After all, the reason they eliminated the sport in the first place is because nobody could beat us. (Damn you Japan!)
I’m fairly positive that you saw that we lost the gold in Softball or maybe not, but if you did, then you probably thought about it for 2.2 seconds and then said something like… “How could those dykes lose” and then ate a cheeseburger. But in case you wanted more information, I figure I’d provide that little antidote.
Now some Links…
- Mmmm. Beer shakes. LINK HERE
- Johnson & Johnson introduces a new baby line. LINK HERE
- Generate your own warning label. LINK HERE
- Interactive history of the Olympic torch. LINK HERE
- How to hotwire a car. LINK HERE
- I don’t actually know what this is. LINK HERE
- How can this be real? LINK HERE
- The tallest skyscraper in the world is almost done. Impressive. LINK HERE
- LT leg presss a car. LINK HERE
- The new ‘Big Pimpin'’ Take a listen. LINK HERE
- Best Chris Hansen t-shirt this week. LINK HERE
Here’s something to keep you occupied for a few minutes or so of your employer’s time, mascot battle!
Just like in real life, it’s a showdown between the Cardinals and Pirates, in mascot form. Our friends over at Home Run Derby (billed as “Not nearly as Yuppie as other baseball sites”) have our own FredBird duking it out with Pittsburgh’s Pirate Parrot. Go vote for FredBird, but take it easy on Parrot personally. He’s never been the same since the steel mill closed.
For your remembering pleasure, here’s a look back at some memorable moments with FredBird and the pack of scantily clad lasses, working their way through college no doubt, he guides around Busch Stadium. Hmmm, big, powerful man, dragging around a bevy of ladies, there’s a name for a job like that.
- Meet the Fred’s ladies
- A tip of the hat to the zany mascot who started it all, the San Diego Chicken.
- Halloween with FredBird.
I got nothing today. Absolutely nothing. We appreciate you dropping by, but at this point don’t have anything ‘new’ to offer you. Unless you count this- which you probably don’t. I wouldn’t. Then again, some people are more liberal with deciding what is ‘new’ than other peoples I suppose. Maybe you’re more the latter than the former. Who knows? Who cares, really? I don’t actually. As you may know, the only thing I really care about is my street cred. I don’t like white people, but unfortunately black people don’t read blogs or write blogs and that makes me sad. Because I know some black dudes that would blog good. It’s just not for the duffel bag boys anymore; I try to tell my bros. Do you know someone that can change this? If so contact me and I’ll buy you a mouse.
Sphere: Related ContentAt first glance former Cardinals relief pitcher Jason Isringhausen and recently perished DMB saxophonist LeRoi Moore don’t have a tremendous amount in common. 
One is a husky white farm boy from rural Illinois that throws a leather ball at other men with wooden sticks. The other was an even huskier black man who blew into a piece of metal for income. But suddenly, shockingly the life paths of both Izzy and LeRoi crossed paths on August 19 2008 leaving me and maybe even many of in a bit of an emotional conundrum… How exactly should we/I feel?
I don’t believe I’ve ever shared this with you, but I know how to play the saxophone. Not well, granted. But my life depended on it I could punch out Hot Cross Buns competently. Interestingly, my grade school had a marching band. At the time, I thought this was normal, but as the years have passed, I’ve realized that this was, in fact, very not normal. Considering we had maybe- maybe- 200 kids in the whole school- I find it infinitely fascinating they were able to field a full freaking band to go to parades and such. And not just barely, either. I was never able to unseat this dude named Mick for the first chair sax (I think that’s what it was called) and I know there were at least 2 other guys behind me. And that’s how it was with most instruments. Fuck- I think some chick even played the oboe!
This same school of mine also did ‘magazine sales’. In the 1990’s assholes in suits came up with the idea “Hey, instead of paying a sales force…let’s get little kids to do it! Yeah… They’re cute! Everyone will buy!” I’m not saying that murder or kidnapping is good, but in the case of forced child labor for chocolate bars and magazine subs- yeah, I’m glad those days are behind us. Anyway, if you sold XYZ number of (fill in the blank) you got like 10 seconds in the ‘money machine’. Remember that thing? A big Plexiglas box with a fan and a bunch of 1’s and some 5’s and like 1 20 dollar bill that you’d grab and stuff out a little slot. In retrospect, they were paying me like 12 dollars for 45 days of door to door labor, but-shit- those 10 seconds were fun.
Which brings me back to the marching band. Before my eighth grade year they hired a new band director and his name was Larry. Obviously he sucked at life. I skipped my individual practice session to go for the cash grab (I’d do it again too, motherfucker) and Larry got pissed. He gave me a detention. My first one ever. I promptly quit band forever. Maybe I missed my calling, maybe I didn’t, but I vividly remember that sackless clown sending it to my classroom via the secretary and not delivering it himself and then me storming over to quit. I wish I still had the same spunk and conviction I had then. Now all my time was going to be dedicated to baseball.
I won’t bore you with all the details of how that career ended, but I will say that if there was any way to prove who got hit the most in a career, Little Leauge and High School per/AB I’d bet I’m in the top 10% nationwide. It was freaky. But the bigger point I’m trying to make is that the Saxophone and Baseball were, are two things I enjoyed then and enjoy now…by watching.
This love of the sound of horns is probably why I was drawn to the Dave Matthews Band in the first place. About the 6 months or so before ‘What Would You Say’ broke on radio big time, somebody in high school gave me a copy of Remember Two Things and I loved it. Still do. Around the time I got my driver’s license I purchased Crash and would just drive around and listen to it over and over again. Before These Crowded Streets was my freshman soundtrack in college. Everyday got me through a telemarketing job. I’ve literally spent thousands of dollars going to places like Dallas TX and Columbia SC to see DMB shows with friends who shared the same love for the music as I and it’s pretty weird that I got to see one of the last performances of DMB as a band with LeRoi Moore before he passed this summer in Busch Stadium.
Izzy on the other hand, called Busch Stadium his home office since 2002, a couple of years before I went on an ESPN affiliate and tried to do a radio show. I think we’ve covered Jason enough over the past 6 years to say much more than thanks AND it was time to retire. He won’t make it official until he get the rest of his salary this year, but #44 will never pitch again.
Bringing me back to my point. How should I or we feel about this? I’ve never met either man; don’t know much about them other than what they do/did professionally. Can’t say if I had a beer with them that I’d like or have fun with them. Yet, today, I’m a little sad.
Because at the end of a tight game or middle of a great on stage sax solo they both provided me the feelings of excitement and wonder that I think we’re all constantly searching for in life. And truth be told, not many people/things can bring you that pure joy. So when it’s gone- it’s gone and we have to look for new things to inspire and love.
I didn’t know these two guys, but, at least for me, they’ll always be intertwined and representatives of some great moments I’ll never forget.
Thanks men.
Thanks.
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