You Can Put It In The Bag... YES!

Over the weekend, I was (fortunately) too busy to take in the latest installments of the White Sox answer to water torture. Thank God. As was easily predicted for Saturday, Contreras shat the bed for what will apparently be the last time as a starter (heard that before)... but on the less predictable side, the Sox bats were completely shut down by the ironclad combination of... Sergio Mitre... to... Chad Gaudin...

...

Really? Did you ever see Chad Gaudin's facial hair before he was traded to the Yankees? It's actually a stroke of good fortune for everyone who has to watch him pitch that he was traded there- they only allow their players to grow mustaches, if I'm not mistaken. Chad Gaudin's value as a pitcher is at the point where the Cubs couldn't find any use for him... and he shut down the Sox. Fantastic.


"Look away, Jerry! I'm hideous!" - Cosmo Kramer




Then, on Sunday, I was spared the sight of Joba Chamberlain taking the bump against my team, which is fine by me. Joba is one of a few pitchers who I'm quite confused by. He's incredibly, incredibly gifted as an athlete... but his behavior on the mound is just off the chart in terms of how obnoxious it is to watch. I do not, and will never, understand the whole "aggressive pitcher screaming into glove" movement that seems to have taken a hold here sometime in the past few years.

I understand adrenaline. Yankee Stadium is ridiculously huge, you're a major league pitcher, the bright lights are all on you, it's loud, you're getting paid millions of dollars to entertain the masses... excitement is quite understandable. You're facing physical specimens and freaks who are also paid millions to take anything you offer them and send it flying into outer space, so I can fully grasp why you'd be happy and proud that you just struck out a major league hitter, or forced a critical out from them, or whatever. But please, please don't yell into your glove. It just takes away from whatever amazing athletic feat you just wowed us with and makes you look like a complete jackass in the process. Like my Dad used to express in reaction to Deion Sanders' dumb-ass endzone dancing: "Act like you've been there before."

Furthermore, the whole idea of Joba Chamberlain's major league identity is beyond me. What the hell is he? Apparently, he's unable to give a complete start every 5th day, and needs to be handled with kid gloves. But he's not a reliever either. But, when we first came to know him, he was a shutdown reliever. And, assuming that he's not a fucking cyborg like Mariano Rivera apparently is, he sure as Hell isn't the closer of the future for the Yankees. Or is he? Joba is just another fine example of what happens when idiots with business degrees in a front office try to dictate the manner in which a specialized athlete performs, and milk it to the Nth degree. Joba is pitching's answer to Devin Hester... except, I've yet to see Devin Hester scream into his tackified receivers' gloves after a punt return. Douche.

Speaking of tacky, after the next three days, I'm never going to have to watch the White Sox play "baseball" in that piece of shit that Minnesotans call the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome. That's right, Minneapolis: no more "let's turn on the air conditioning when the Twins come up to bat." No more "let's train everyone in our farm system how to hit chop ground balls two feet in front of the plate because of the astroturf awaiting them on the big squad." No more Glad bag in right field. No more having to hear the Sox complain about how much they hate playing in your piece of shit domed multipurpose Hell-hole of a "stadium"! Have fun in early April at your open air ballpark, you lingonberry licking Norse perverts! The playing field shall be leveled!

Valhalla is coming!