Sunday, April 5, 2009

So where was I ?

I am wildly in favor of sloth..It doesn't appear to be all that deadly as a sin. There is plenty of room for a substantial boiler in cyberspace. Anyhoo, sloth it was and sloth it remains. I have no good reason for shirking on my responsibilities here at Strawman Towers.

I have maintained my staff save Phil in accounting who steered me into a massive condo complex purchase in Las Vegas..In hindsight, I should have just given the money to Madoff or Barry Zito.

At any rate, the boys in the ground floor offices are limbering up their laptops and we have cut some costs by opening a strip joint where the fitness room used to be.

We are sub-primed, sub-primed, I tell you to deliver hard hitting, insightful commentary on stuff we really don't know much about. We have been little more than a "Zombie" blog for months now but the party is over, people..

So what's with the Giants?

We like that the team has exceeded their quota of tubsters. All that cash that 'The Bowtie' saved by not signing Manny Ramirez will go quickly with the post game meal spreads these guys will require. As fast as the little dudes are I am hoping that Velez and Torres can get into the buffet line ahead of the larger assets lest they are forced into stripper gallivanting on an empty stomach.

Spring training was great for about a day or so, evolved into season 19 of Dancing With the Stars when all they can get is Donny Most and Pia Zadora, and drug on even longer before becoming a monumental slog akin to hiking around Bochy's head.

The Giants made some decisions which I plan to rail against unfairly and Bochy retained that almost mythical blandness usually only found in Logan Utah.

Sabean got some sweet deals on Gandolfini's wardrobe items at the Sopranos set garage sale and every possible good in the world relies totally on Lincecum. It's all falling into place..

Play ball.....

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Because I Care

So, the Dodgers are coming to town and I guess they still retain some smoldering ember of hope for a post season berth in their tiny little pretend hearts. The Giants, alas, have no such flicker. This is vexing and tragic enough even in years when the Dogs are forlorn also rans as well. Still, I find that I am oddly serene. What a perplexing notion.

Has the fact that I have been pummeled by a quixotic alchemy of repulsion and attraction to the Giants this season inured me so completely from the unholy certainty that the Dodgers are Beelzebub's Nine? Why can't I work up some righteous fervor for a spiritually cleansing sweep of the offending pile which magnificently castigates that evil spawn to a long and remorseless winter. That's always a good thing, isn't it?

I would like to chalk up my new found ambivalence to a sudden jolt of maturity and perspective. That can't be it. I don't do maturity and perspective here. Petulance and hyperbole is my game and that season never ends, Padre.

Serenity is an ill fitting jacket. What has this season done to me?

Monday, August 27, 2007

Casting Stones

Once upon a time the Giants used to toy with the Rockies at Corporate Naming Rights Park. Once upon a time really good looking chicks used to give me the come hither look too. Things change. Now the Rockies think they are pretty good and they know the Giants aren't. They are bold enough to take a whiz on home plate and claim it as their turf. This is distressing. It's like this whole Justin Timberlake thing. It doesn't make any sense.

The Rockies have never been the least bit helpful before. They don't appear to serve any purpose this year other than as a crushing reminder that the Giants sit 10 games behind them in the standings. Next they will be telling me they found David Lee Roth and Eddie Van Halen playing Canasta at the home and convinced them the world needs another tour. That can't happen, can it? 50 year old rock stars, 40 year old ballplayers? When are they baby boomers going to realize they are now the aging hipster, declining relevance, middle aged boomers. You don't think Barry Bonds appreciates all those non taxing walks? We all do, man..

So what were we talking about? Oh yes, the upstart Rockies with their silly looking black biker vest unis. That is not a good look. There is a pseudo Oakland Raiders vibe in those jerseys, though in a vastly less threatening and more wholesome way. Maybe you won't get knifed in the stands but the Rockies will still find a way to kill the Giants every chance they get. It's an ugly tale with a sinister plot and it festers still. Sadly, there is no equitable revenge to be realized here. The Rockies aren't going to the post season so sweeping them even farther out of the race will not balance the karmic scales. As if anything could.....

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Young Turks

If I justed wanted to hang out, slug back a few brews and sneak around with strippers, I think guys like Aurillia, Roberts and Durham would be great company. They seem like nice guys and, like me, they have certainly put in a number of years breathing air. Do I want to watch them play baseball? I would have to say no. It's not as if I am a complete creepo trying to deprive them of their dreams. They have enjoyed long careers and have millions of bucks in the bank.

This pretty much parallels what I have here at EMS. As crafty as I have been climbing the corporate ladder to the penthouse office of Strawman Towers, I also realize that the day to day leg work of irresponsible journalism is a job for younger limbs. I don't like my young serfs any more than Bochy likes Kevin Frandsen but I do understand their value. They are cheap and energetic and I can always blame them for dumb decisions I make. What could be better?

I long ago purged the good clubhouse guys and replaced them with hungry young sharks who live only to serve my needs. Sure, the old dudes always have to wash their hair when I call them up for golf but I don't have to explain their bloated contracts to the missus either.

Our motto here is "Younger, Faster and Healthier." I don't really believe any of that crap. I am, however, quite enamored with cheaper.

Sabes and Boch are my age. It's never easy to teach old dogs new tricks. I resist change as much as the next Neanderthal. But if I can have some sort of epiphany then so can they. Hire some young players under 30. They have far more nubile and less jaded strippers in their posse. It just makes sense.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007


There must be a 1000 ways to say the Giants suck and it has always been my intention to explore each and every one. I have been noticeably slack in this mission of late. I would like to offer some sort of excuse but, sadly, general laziness is the culprit. I have been a very poor role model for the junior staffers.

Strawman Towers is abuzz, abuzz, I tell you, about the Rajai phenomenon. If there is some available ying for the disastrous yang enveloping all things Giants these days, how sweet would it be for young Mr. Davis to be that celestial messenger. Getting rid of Morris and his accompanying contract anchor was a lovely bit of providence. What a nice little bonus it would be to have Rajai emerge as a symbol of the hopeful possible instead of yet another agonizing disappointment. We are collectively holding our breath.

Still holding....

Still holdinnnnnggggggggg...............

Sorry, I can no longer hold my breath. I have ordered a couple of my underlings to continue holding their breath while I symbolically participate. What the hey, there are always more junior staffers where they came from.

Now that I am fully oxygenated, I just realized that the Giants are playing the Braves tonight. John Smoltz is pitching. I don't like our chances here. Once we are able to revive them, I will have the minions again hold their breath for a Giants win tonight. I have learned from my 8 second ordeal that there is a beautiful power in breath withholding. They will thank me one day.

Friday, August 10, 2007

Friday Drivel

Every once in awhile the universe throws out one of those imponderables. Tonight the Giants face a guy who regularly gives up 6 runs in the first inning. Normally it takes the Giants 3 full games to get 6 runs. The immutable laws of physics will surely be in play tonight. Something will happen and it won't be pretty. It's too complex for me to unravel. I will leave it to the philosophers to unwind that little chestnut.

Ah, but the weirdness has already stepped in. Under what alternate reality scenario do the Giants trade a useful player to the Dodgers? Doesn't that seem just the least bit odd? I could see dumping some horrible contract on the Dogs. That would be right and fair but Sweeney is pretty cheap. In addition, he may have a good source for eye openers should any Dog poopies need a little boost. His value in the clubhouse is immeasurable. Don't you just know he will break up a Lincecum perfect game bid with a 2 out pinch hit home run in the 9th. Trading with the excrementals is never sane..It can only end badly.

Will we be looking at the smallest crowd in the history of Corporate Naming Rights Park tonight? Orange Friday may clash horribly with the sea of empty green seats. Krukow may not even need the eliminate me pen tonight.

Sunday, August 5, 2007

One to Go

I have been on the planet for quite awhile now. I have witnessed two different guys pursue the all time home run record. These things are never easy for the players involved. Number one, hitting home runs is hard. Hitting home runs when so many people wish you wouldn't can't be very pleasant for anyone.

Hank Aaron is taking heat these days for not embracing the Bonds pursuit. Though I believe Aaron is a true gentleman he is not immune to human emotion. While he was going for the record in 74, I wasn't all that pleased. I didn't care that he was breaking Ruth's record, I was mightily indignant that it wasn't Willie Mays hitting 715. Willie was and remains my one sports hero. I thought Hank was a great player but just not as deserving. I ramped up all the excuses. Willie lost 2 years to the army, Willie had to play in cavernous home fields while Aaron got the launching pad, Willie was the ultimate team player who would happily fore go the home run to win a game some other way.

Mays was the man. The player of the century as far as I am concerned but he would have faced just as much scorn and abuse as Aaron did had he been the one to break the record. Not only for the ugly racial hate but also because baseball fans don't particularly cherish players from other teams. Fans respect talent but they love their own guys. I would wager that Yankee fans didn't think Aaron was as deserving as the Mick. Reds fans probably think Frank Robinson was the guy who really should be regarded as the best home run hitter. Fans tend to root more with their heart than with their head.

Now comes Bonds and his pursuit is as chock full of vitriol and sturm and drang as Hank's. We still have tinges of racial animus, steroids and money swirling around. We have fans who want Barry to break that record and fans who really, really don't. There isn't a whole lot of middle ground.

If I live long enough I suppose I will see another guy climb this mountain. I am certain that when that day comes the moment will still be as full of angst and bitterness and yes, joyous celebration as the last two times.

However, like Hank, who is entitled to his opinion, and Bonds, the next guy will have earned this record. He will deserve our respect if not our devotion.

Right now it's Bonds who should be accorded all the accolades. He did it. I say well done, Barry. Bravo!!!