The Treaty of Parrish

By: Matt Sussman

Lance Parrish was recently named the manager of the Low-A West Michigan Whitecaps. He is not to be confused with Larry Parrish, who coached the same team in 2013, as well as its parent Detroit Tigers for two seasons in the late 90s. Additionally, Larry is not to be confused with Lance, who was on Larry’s Tigers coaching staff in ’99. They should not be confused with one another, despite playing in the same major leagues for 12 straight seasons. Both were All-Stars multiple times, though never in the same season.

They should also not be confused as brothers. They aren’t even related and as they began in different leagues, didn’t meet for quite some time.

The main difference is that Lance once acted as Tina Turner’s bodyguard during a taping of Hollywood Squares while Turner was going through her divorce, according to Lance’s autobiography. But Lance should not then be confused with Kevin Costner, who once portrayed another old Detroit Tigers player.

So if you need some more differences, here they are:

-Lance was a catcher
-Larry was a third baseman

-Lance had a career .757 OPS, .439 slugging and .271 TAv
-Larry had a career .753 OPS, .440 slugging and .268 TAv

-Larry had 1789 career hits
-Lance had only 1782 career hits

-Lance was “Ln Parrish” in box scores
-Larry was “La Parrish”, or what a Russian calls the capital of France

-Larry’s career high in home runs was 32
-Lance’s was 33

-Lance made his debut on a September 5
-Larry’s debut was on a September 6

-Larry prefers Hardee’s
-Lance is a Carl’s Jr. man

-Lance is a big fan of tossin’ the ol ball around
-Larry just enjoys playing catch

Please consider printing this article out and storing in your glove compartment or wallet for later consultation.

Some Antidotes to Consider

By: Rachael McDaniel

Baseball has been sad for the past few days. I don’t think any of us need more sadness. I certainly don’t. So instead I will provide a list of some of the things that make me happy about baseball. And not happy in, like, an existential kind of way, or in some way that is happy but also tragic at the same time. Just pure, dumb, giddy happiness.

  • I love the moment right when a fielder misses a ball, and everyone around them knows that they missed the ball, but for a split second, they don’t. They’ve fielded this kind of ball so many times before, they just assume it’s in their glove. For a second, they live in a completely different reality than everyone else on the field. A better, brighter world.
  • Secondary to this: I love the moment of utter deer-in-headlights panic that immediately follows, when the fielder’s reality comes crashing down around them, and oh god, the ball’s rolling slowly down the right-field line, and the runner who was on first is now rounding third. Bonus: when they realize they are still the closest person to that misplaced ball.
  • I love foul bunts. I just love them. Especially if it’s on an attempted sacrifice, and especially if it’s popped up for an out. A sacrifice bunt is already such a sad-trombone of an action; failing to even fail in the correct way is the saddest trombone of all.
  • I love the moment when everyone in the stadium realizes that the ball is going to be a homer, even those people who were holding off on standing so that they could feel better about themselves for not being the guy who cheered a fly ball out. Sometimes, you just can’t escape joy.
  • I love Marcus Stroman’s cliché motivational athlete tweets, and inspirational athlete tweets in general. They’re corny, yes, but they’re a nice palliative to the crushing waves of despair and cynicism so typically synonymous with opening up the Twitter app. So yes, I will keep grinding, Marcus! I will silence the haters! HDMH!
  • I love my younger brother’s baseball games that he plays with himself, where he is all the players, and also the commentators, and also the umpires, and also the official scorekeeper. I usually hate my apartment’s thin walls, but in this case, they are a blessing.
  • I love how it’s been a week and we’re all talking about next season already. I love how that happens every single season, and everyone knows it’s going to happen, and everyone ends up doing it anyway.
  • I love watching pitchers. I love their little routines, the intricacies and uniquenesses of their deliveries, the specificity of the way their fingers have to grip the seams for every single pitch. Even if the pitch is bad, the fact that it even gets near the plate, or that it makes contact with a bat, is something to be marveled at. It’s easy to let familiarity dull your sense of wonder, but baseball really is a weird, amazing sport.
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