Happy Halloween Ya Scumbags!

As I’m making my coffee in the morning my cat routinely comes into the kitchen and stands next to my legs to greet me, lightly brushing with his tail every so often. I pick up the little critter and set him on the bar to stroke his orange coat for a bit before giving him a few treats. After gobbling the morsels, he then runs outside on the deck to get some fresh air and to harass random chattering and angry squirrels simply trying to access their mythical, hidden cache. This is part of our routine, something that promotes health and wellness. It’s a great thing to be a wild and crazy guy, but we also need routines to settle our brain so the messy bugger is able to compute correctly. What is the significance of this? Nothing. Just another day…except today is Halloween!

I tried to watch a bit of the World Series last night, but it’s difficult to be attentive as I don’t have a dog in the race. No doubt, this has to be the most ‘Merica Fall Classic of all time as you have a crew of trash-can-banging cheaters from a state that instituted fascist abortion laws, essentially reverting humanity and women’s rights back to the Vatican of the 1300’s, (still up in the air if we can burn a hussy at the stake) or you can root with an assortment of redneck menagerie eating processed nacho cheese out of a pork barrel and periodically switching off on chanting the “tomahawk chop” with the bass intro to a shitty White Stripes song the whole goddamn game. On occasion my subconscious was discombobulated and I had to stop for a moment and assure myself that I was watching a baseball game and wasn’t mysteriously transported to a klan rally by aliens via Jewish space lasers. My friend overheard the chanting from the other room and said simply, “stupid,” and I just chuckled as I polished off my Budweiser and smashed the can against my forehead. I’m no paragon of virtue either, obviously, but it was a superb game in the end despite the psychic fallout–Braves won 3-2.

There was an article in some mainstream-newspaper-fish wrap where the hack stated that the rubes (the fans) must enjoy baseball in the present moment on grounds that  the dissolute prima-donnas will be striking next year. “You must savor every inning as if it’s your last.” I thought, who gives a toss? I refuse to give in to the effete demands of millionaires and billionaires and their nihilist institution! In addition, my team will be a shit show next year anyway, and if I need my junkie fix I can always watch Japanese baseball (NPB) or go check out my local sandlot team. I heard the Austin Grackles are supposed to be pretty good, and they sport some sweet ball-caps. I guess you could say that I’m entering my end of the year, cynical “baseball sucks” neurosis routine until spring training starts again, this time without Bob Melvin for the first time in over a decade. No doubt, I’ll probably read a few books about players and seasons from the past over the winter and let out a prolonged sigh. 

I got tix tonight to see John Carpenter’s original 1978 classic, Halloween, and I’m excited to see it on the big screen for the first time. It’s a typical slasher trope that teenagers are killed for having pre-marital sex, but one of the characters is strangled for casually thinking about banging her boyfriend on the way to pick him up in her 1977 Chevrolet Monte Carlo. Ain’t that the way it goes? Life sometimes just ain’t fair. I’ve also decided that I’m taking a break from this crusty ‘ol degenerate blog and wont see you guys again until April. Until then, stay well and warm, don’t eat all the kid’s candy, leave the “bag snatching” to the teens, and when you start seeing double it’s time to leave the bar. 

Bring on the Sox

R.I.P Eazy

When I think of the White Sox I immediately think of N.W.A., Bo Jackson, Bill Veeck, Charles Comiskey, goofy softball uniforms. Carlton Fisk, Disco Demolition Night, Frank Thomas, Shoeless Joe Jackson, “Black” Jack McDowell, Tony LaRussa (this one is confusing), and last but not least….a completely wasted, living and breathing trailer-park-cliche father and son materializing from the stands to beat the shit out of an umpire

There’s a largely uncelebrated and rich history on the South-Side of Chicago, but much like the Oakland A’s, they hone their craft on the more working-class (black) side of town with “derelict” followers, so they get very little national screen time or respect from anyone in the baseball world but the rabid fan base that supports them. They are considered the plucky little brother from a city that can hardly pull their eyes away from the bourgeois North-Side Cubs that are synonymous with a large fan base of drunken college kids lurking in the bleachers, throwing up on themselves (and others) and not even bothering to at least go to the restroom to urinate when they’re not harassing and hurling death-threats at an innocent, headphone and turtleneck-wearing nerd.

Alas, there is a wealth of young talent on this exciting Sox team that would surely be household names if they played for the Yankees, with the likes of Tim Anderson, Eloy Jimenez, and Jose Abreau swinging the sticks, and Lucas Giolito and Dylan Cease taking the hill for the Medias Blancas de Chicago. And in an abrupt topic change, I would also like to take this time to thank the Sox for letting us defraud and embarrass them in the Jeff Samardzija for Marcus Semien and Chris Bassitt trade. We didn’t care much for Jeff in the East Bay anyway. Ribbing aside, I have much respect for this team and their history and I am looking forward to an exciting, highly competitive series that should be a treat for all baseball fans.

The Oakland Athletics and their horrible “gag job.”

Just “making it” doesn’t cut it anymore.

The A.L. Wild Card Game was fun to watch, but it shouldn’t take 2,430 games of pseudo-intellectual baseball pundit gibberish to get a conclusion like this. Throughout the cursing, nail-biting, pacing and punching, (there is now a small hole in my desk.) the media has already deemed yesterday’s game an “instant classic.” As sweet as that is for baseball nerds/wildcard hypocrites and bandwagon underdog types, I would have settled for a nice, boring, also-ran game and a victory. Jon Lester was acquired for a game like this, and although he didn’t have his best “stuff,” he left with a lead and gave the Athletics a chance at victory.

The goats: Bob Melvin. He will be criticized for not playing Adam Dunn, yet I wasn’t quite sure there was a situation that called for that decision. My criticism, however, is the slow hook for Jon Lester in the 8th. Perhaps he didn’t have much faith in the bullpen. (I know I didn’t) Melvin has been criticized all year by this blog for his slow hook and lack of tactical baseball decisions and it is well-known that Billy Beane (shhh…it’s a secret) makes the lineup cards on a daily basis with Melvin making only in-game moves. He’s a likable guy, but ultimately he’s around to do something he’s, frankly, not very good at.

Luke Gregerson. He could have conceivably got out of the Lester jam, instead he gave up an RBI single to Billy Butler, a stolen base and then a wild pitch to bring the Royals within 1 run and ultimately give them the momentum they needed. Perhaps another bad decision by Melvin as Gregersen isn’t a hard thrower, and everybody in the house knew that pinch-runner Terrance Gore was going to try to steal in that situation. Was he conceding the stolen base?

Sean Doolittle. Let’s face it…despite all the idiotic shenanigans the Athletics showed us on national television, they still had a chance for victory. A one run lead in the bottom of the 9th with your All Star closer ready to shut it down…what more could you ask for? Josh Willingham, (forever loved in Oakland) batting for Mike Moustakas, opened the inning by dropping a single into right field. Jarrod Dyson ran for Willingham, was bunted to second and stole third. STOLE THIRD! Aoki hit a long out to right field, a sacrifice fly to tie the score, 7-7. Blown save…the biggest one of Doolittle’s career.

Home plate umpire Bill Miller. He had an absolute atrocious strike zone that took the fun out of the game at times. Batters from both sides were perplexed.

I will post a few opinions from the loyal readers of this blog. Thanks for a great season guys…

I know the Royals are known for their speed, but the amount of stolen bags in this game was mind-boggling. At the end of the day, the offense actually showed up ready to bang and the defense ended up being our downfall. Still, shouts out to everyone at Kingfish Bar last night for being one of the best crowds in Oakland…we almost collapsed the ceiling after the 2nd Moss homer!– Andres Castallanos

I don’t blame Lester. I blame the injury to Soto — the Royals were stealing at will past Norris — and, more importantly, I blame Bob Melvin who showed NO URGENCY in that critical 8th inning. 4 steals, 3 runs… none of that should ever have happened. Lester got tired at 100 pitches, which is the norm these days, and Melvin was just asleep at the switch. Grady Little redux. –John Miller

Blame this “L” on the infield, relievers, catcher. Lester left with a 4 run lead.– Fernando Zapien

Too much “great season A’s” on all the team pages I follow! These people think that if you call out your team for such an epic tank job you’re bandwagon. Ridiculous! It was a shit season! No pennant, no heart, no discipline. Oakland is supposed to be the tough gritty team that isn’t scared of shit! This season was huge. With the stadium turmoil and where will our home be discussion we needed to at least make a run, and we failed. Now I’m guessing the San Jose topic will come up again in a big way, and unfortunately the fight to keep them in Oakland will be extra tough because we’ve lost the respect of MLB. I have a sick feeling that this heart break will continue to haunt is in several ways for the foreseeable future.–Tim Hinkle

and finally….

That game was a gag job, just like the season!–Lynn Phillips

Angels win the West. Ho hum.

Elephants never forget.

The “Los Angeles” Angels clinched the Western division last night, finally living up to their “potential” and bloated pay-roll. Their mellow, almost boring to the point of tears fans were given kudos for sticking around after the game and watching the Athletics’ Sean Doolittle achieve a karma-like implosion on the big screen as the Rangers scored 6 in the 9th to take the game 6-1. I think it is pertinent to understand that Doolittle had just come off of the disabled list a few days earlier but seeing that the A’s bullpen had decided to smear feces on its collective faces the past month or so, his comeback was seen as just slightly below the second coming of Jesus Christ himself. Mike Scioscia, who has the character of a stoned sloth summed it up this way, “Guys are aware that this is one little milestone that we need, and I think they’re proud of that, but we have a long way to go. I think these guys know the bigger prize that we need to keep our eyes on.” Well said, but let’s not forget that their pitching staff would be/and will be considerably worse than any team in the A.L. playoffs. Now the baseball world will be able to see the owner of the worst contract in Angels history, Josh Hamilton, do what he does best–swing at virtually everything, and look bad while doing it. His MVP season of 2010 feeling like decades ago as he is now just an average player at best when they can get him on the field. A’s fans also have no love for outfielder Kole Calhoun who complained about the Oakland fans in RF being “too loud” in Anaheim and actually had a few ejected. Perhaps I am looking at this with a jaundiced eye, but besides Mike Trout, Howie Kendrick and maybe Jeff Weaver this team just isn’t very likable. They are as homogenized as the city they play in. Here’s to hoping they choke on a giant chicken bone in the playoffs. Godspeed.