Phil Hughes va de Minnesota a San Diego en un intercambio que tiene muy poco que ver con Phil Hughes.
Phil Hughes goes from Minnesota to San Diego in a trade that has little to actually do with Phil Hughes.
Chaos is not anarchy. In the latter, one might imagine the chaotic bellowing from the throat of a toddler, drowning in small plastic toys and dirt stains left on the kitchen linoleum. Or perhaps the twisted metal resting peacefully on the side of a highway onramp, attesting in its relative state of calm to that…
“I love you,” Hernandez said. “I love you, Robbie, and you know I’m with you. You know I’m with you, bro.” Felix Hernandez believes in Robinson Cano. What, exactly, does he believe? “I’ve been talking to him a lot. He seems fine because he don’t make any mistakes. He’s a smart person. I don’t think…
With another season in front of us it’s time to discuss baseball’s most penetrating current problem, which is of course the feral, mouth-breathing cats invading the diamond. Oh sure, it’s a moment that’s always good for a larf between broadcasters as we admire in slow motion the physics of the feline form. But under that…
My father is nearly done having to work. He belongs to perhaps one of the last generations of peoples to feel he can approach or achieve “retirement age”, and has worked for nearly fifty years, veering through largesse, near-bankruptcy, and everything in between. If you subscribe, as I do, to John Muir’s notion that everything…
Whenceforth I received the news that the great Bone Head from Mud City was applying saliva to the ball before releasing it to the batter, I was right steamed. Myself, returning straight from a season that saw me ace thirty-one victories for my club, well yes-sir, I feign ignorance as to why a gentleman pitching…
Yesterday, the Dallas Morning News put out this update on the condition of Tim Lincecum, who was shelved with a blister before the season started and was moved to the 60-day disabled list last week. Here are the saddest portions: 5. The phrase “attacked by a raging blister” It’s not just any blister, but an…
The Language of Peace By: Nathan Bishop I met a man earlier this year. Let’s call him Greg. The past decade of Greg’s life had seen a series of spiraling traumas. His home was foreclosed on during the housing crisis of the past decade. The stress and despair of the incident led to divorce, which…
Mourn, laugh at some dumb stuff, then mourn some more.
An invective against bobbleheads, a sample of in-game audio, and a question of what, in baseball, is billable.
The game as it connects major league ballplayer and four-year-old, fantasy and reality, and an old man and his spare room.
Orson Welles returns to the microphone, baseball players as iconography, and a review of a pleasant little board game.