I’m nervous. I don’t wear a watch with any success, so I check my wrist every few heartbeats in the hopes that one materializes and solves my puzzle. Where is he? I remember that my phone can service this request. It’s 7:15 p.m. He’s late. It’s the second week in January. I’m standing outside a dimly lit boutique food establishment in Brooklyn. Normally I prefer to see the food that I eat, but eating in the dark is all the rage and we must adhere to what is the rage. It’s important to adhere to the rages of the moment. I brought a conveniently sized table candle from home just in case I struggle to adhere to the rage. My date for the evening has a very busy schedule, so I slow my judgment and make a concerted effort to feel confident and poised, regardless of the circumstances of his delay. A text or tweet would have been nice. I bet he’s on the subway and lacks the necessary technology to connect with me. Perhaps Mr. Brian Kenny stopped along the way for a quick hot topic debate with a local sports yokel? It will be worth the wait.
My emotions are confused and uncertain, and I’m starting to cling to the outside air like I’m Frank Booth about to butterfly into his “Daddy” persona. I can’t seem to satisfy my need to breathe, and I feel rejected and abused. I pretend to be smoking because it calms me down and makes me look cool to any curious onlookers that happen upon my particular spot. It’s cool to smoke cigarettes in deep freeze outdoor conditions but it’s not cool to explain to a medical professional the avoidable frostbite that occurred while waiting for a baseball analyst and power voice. It’s 7:30. I heard this place served a fantastic piece of fish, and my intuition tells me that Brian Kenny would be excited to learn that this place serves a fantastic piece of fish, and would become so excited—in fact—that he would probably mention the fish during his next television segment, detailing the mood and the memories to his fiercely loyal and oddly epicurean fan base. Yahoo! Answers said the fish was good when I asked if the fish was good.
The win might be a silly statistic, but does it affect pitchers' performance?
On Monday’s edition of MLB Now, anchor Brian Kenny once again made the case against using wins as a measure of pitcher quality. Citing recent games such as Matt Harvey’s brilliant nine-inning, one-hit no-decision, he argued that the win is an overrated statistic that doesn’t do a good job of describing the pitcher’s performance. After Kenny’s presentation, former pitcher Al Leiter came out to give a rebuttal. Leiter had an interesting take on the issue. He said that Kenny wasn’t respecting the human element of the game, and he suggested that the win statistic might actually make starters perform a little better in some key situations.
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Breaking down the debate about sabermetrics between Brian Kenny and Hawk Harrelson.
I don’t know how we got to this point, but the long-awaited grudge match between White Sox color commentator Hawk Harrelson and MLB Network broadcaster Brian Kenny (with occasional contributions from Harold Reynolds) took place last night. Everyone was polite, nobody got sent to the hospital, and Hawk launched a thousand indignant tweets. You can see the whole thing through the miracle of YouTube, if you have ten minutes to spare for Hawk to say five minutes’ worth of sentences twice: