Sources!

Umm, good? I guess. That's why I'm not a blogger anymore, I suppose. I mean, did these same "sources" reveal that that tomorrow the sun is going to rise? I can't think up a reaction to something I've known for a year. Hell, next you're going to want 2000 words of reaction to Washington having a baseball team.

Themes

My blogging this season has had four themes.
1) The Nats suck.
2) But I don't care because I can't watch them.
3) My indifference is reified by the literally but actually figuratively palpable lack of posts around here, which is so high concept I think I should get a grant.
4) Will Carroll.

And I think I did a pretty good job of balancing these four topics, what with the months of not posting interrupted by the occasional jamming of my blog-finger, Pillsbury Doughboy-style, into the Wickman-soft stomach of Will Carroll's inanity.

But now things have changed. Will Carroll has moved on, and the Nats are on TV. And that's made a difference, a difference so drastic that even I'm surprised. (Not Will -- I actually see him less often than I do Anita Marks these days.) The Nats still suck, Bodes is still in charge, and I still haven't seen anything from ownership to give me any hope, but still: I'm watching the Nats. Any chance I get. Even with Paciorek still grunting.

So I was watching the Nats and realizing there ain't a whole lot to talk about. (Sample abandoned post: News Flash! Austin Kearns looks like the bass player from Wilco!) Plus I was afraid I'd lost my touch. The big news of late has been Alfonso Soriano joining the very exclusive 40-40 club. So I took a look at the issue and thought to myself, "Hmm. What can I say about this that will delight my readers and cow my enemies?" Well, if you look at the list, you notice that almost everyone on it is an asshole. So I started thinking -- and here you get to watch the maestro at work, so feel free to take notes -- this club has more assholes than a proctologist's Rolodex! Well, that doesn't work because there are, at most, three assholes in the club. It's not the number, it's the proportion of assholes, but anything containing the phrase "the proportion of" is going to have a really hard time being funny.

So I got discouraged and gave up. "Sometimes you just gotta know when to give up, kid," I told myself (I call myself kid sometimes). But then I saw the Onion take a stab at it, and I realized that there's no way to make a good joke out of it, which made me feel better. So, in conclusion, make it your pastime!

It Helps that Ortiz Bugs the Hell out of Me

Interesting question over at teh OMG: do you care that Soriano is getting himself thrown out and picked off and whatnot in his quest for 40 steals? I certainly don't. I'm not going to begrudge the guy his shot at a place in the record books next to Jose Canseco (and let's give it up to Alfonso for not bouncing one off his head), even it means he's going to be distracted from playing the game properly.

But I think I'm obliged in one sense or another to post this disclaimer: I am a terrible Nats fan. Maybe the worst. With that said, it won't be a surprise that I'm rooting for Ohka tonight, and Soriano can make as many history-pursuing outs as he wants.

It Helps that Armas Bugs the Hell out of Me

Interesting question over at teh OMG: do you care that Soriano is getting himself thrown out and picked off and whatnot in his quest for 40 steals? I certainly don't. I'm not going to begrudge the guy his shot at a place in the record books next to Jose Canseco (and let's give it up to Alfonso for not bouncing one off his head), even it means he's going to be distracted from playing the game properly.

But I think I'm obliged in one sense or another to post this disclaimer: I am a terrible Nats fan. Maybe the worst. With that said, it won't be a surprise that I'm rooting for ¡Livan! tonight, and Soriano can make as many history-pursuing outs as he wants.

What I Learned from Having MASN for Three Days

• Brian Billick sure has a lot to say.
• Anita Marks can do anything! Except make me watch her show or even go to the trouble of figuring out who the hell she is.
• When in Denver, Bob Carpenter can't stop saying "In this ballpark." I'm guessing it's the thin air.
• Jamey Carroll's still mad.
  
• Tom Paciorek's still annoying.
• The Nats suck so bad only dogs can hear it.
  

A Corner Bar Metaphorically

I'm really enjoying this Majewski scandal. Apart from schadenfreuding all over the spectacle of a public figure transparently trying to cover his ass by whining to utterly uninterested authorities, this can only work out well for us Nats fans. There are two possible consequences, and I like 'em both. Either:

1) Our laughingstock of a general manager is proven not just to have robbed (which we already knew) but to have destroyed, humiliated, and driven mad a rival executive, and that's the kind of thing a fan can take pride in. Or . . .

B) Bud Selig or whoever rolls up the MLB rulebook and pops Bodes on the nose with it. Maybe he blinks a bunch of times and reflexively cries a little bit or maybe he just writes a hilariously indignant column in the Examiner. "Yo, I didn't do nothin', dawg! Don't hate the player! Put down that Haterade, son!" Either way, seeing Bowden humiliated is just about the only thing I'm rooting for these days.

I don't know what it is, but this blog just can't seem to hold on to any of its husky sources of inspiration these days. First Livan gets shipped out for farm boy grindage, then Will Carroll bids adieu to my daily stop for terrible writing, bullshit rumors, highbrow literary analysis, and cringingly unfunny comedy bits, The Juice Blog. His goodbye post, sadly, does nothing but reinforce why we're going to miss him. It's got the self-satisfied coyness we've come to expect.

Due to recent developments, things that should come clear in the very near future, I am ending my involvement with "The Juice" blog. . . I wish I could say more at this time, but as each second passes now, things will become clearer.

It's got clunky prose.

I'd always considered this a "corner bar" metaphorically, a place where anything might be discussed with a general center of baseball goodness.

And, of course, the kind of musing about the Future of Blogging that can only emanate from a guy who's as dumb as he thinks he's smart.

I'm still not sure of blogging. I think the word is overused and misused. It's a new form of journalism, one that's continually evolving. Years from now, I doubt we'll even remember the word and the impact that it has on society will be assumed. Information will be ubiquitous, though I have no idea what form it will take.

Honest to God, does he plug "blogging" into a custom-designed Mad Libs for Dipshits program? I can't think of how a conscious human being comes up with that paragraph. But as long as we're talking about the Future, I don't know what form all that ubiquitous information will take, but I bet this guy does.

This isn't the end for Will, though I can't imagine where I'm going to get my Buzz Machine Fix.

You'll still find me at Baseball Prospectus,

They may have gotten rid of Dayn Perry, but they're never getting my forty bucks again.

Mind and Muscle,

I can't see myself buying one of those magazines with a shiny, grinning, hugely muscular hairless man on the cover, even if it does say "Droolworthy Details about Will!" on the cover.

Total Texas Baseball,

I did some research here, and I can state that Total Texas Baseball seems to be the Baseball Bias of Rangers websites. So that's something.

and soon, a couple new places, ones I think you'll like.

The Future? Will selflessly left the comments on that post closed -- he doesn't need your adoration. He does it for the children. But the comments on this post are wide open, so let's all let Will know how much we'll miss him.

Requiem for the Husky Man

So, why haven't I been blogging? I have to ask myself that question because no one else cares, but here's a clue: my favorite player, the figurative wind beneath my literal wings, this blog's gelatinous muse and smooth-talkin', slow-walkin' guardian angel is traded, and I can't muster much more of a reaction than the "Huh, that's kinda interesting" I emitted when Ronnie Belliard got traded to St. Louis.

Is it a good trade? Once again, asking myself. Shit, Ryan, I don't know, and why would you be listening to me anyway? We've got "prospects" now, and I guess that's kind of exciting. But not as exciting as having a massive, unstable Cuban either humiliating the opposition with a variety of 50-mile-an-hour pitches and an occasional non-hustle double or humiliating his own team with walks to the opposing pitcher and incomprehensible post-game tirades. It's also not as exciting as having a pitching rotation for your major league team, but hey -- youth movement and all. Whatever age ¡Livan! is -- let's say 38 -- he was such a youthful 38 that we all agreed to call him 31, but I guess that's not youthful enough for the movement.

I'll leave it to the real bloggers out there (and the links to the right aren't, as far as I know, completely out of date) to figure out what kind of performance Arizona can expect from the big guy and to make wild-ass guesses projections for the two newest members of the Nationals organization. I'm just going to miss the most interesting guy on a boring ballclub.

I Think Will Carroll Is Trying to Lure Me Out of Retirement

Can you think of a better explanation? I guess he gave up on the Brian Giles thing, but it looks like he's filming a rap video, so good for him.

Let's Hope This Works Out Better Than The Last Trade I Liked

"Don't forget, pitching is the name of the game. The lack of it, especially in the bullpen, beat us last season."
-- Cincinnati Reds GM Wayne Krivsky, after trading Austin Kearns, Felipe Lopez, and some other guy for four or five dudes I have already forgotten were ever Nationals.

Psych! That quotation actually emanated from Cincinnati Reds GM Bill DeWitt after he traded Frank Robinson for Milt Pappas and some dudes that everyone's forgotten ever played for anyone. Still, instructive, huh? Here's what we can learn:

1. Reds GMs tend toward the dumbass side of the ledger.
2. History repeats itself.

Given that history repeats itself, the obvious implication is that Austin Kearns is the next Frank Robinson. So we have a lot to look forward to: an MVP, a triple crown, a few pennants, and that proud moment when Kearns becomes the African-American manager in baseball history.

And as for Felipe Lopez, History may not lay out his path as clearly as it does Kearns', but he's already the best shortstop in Nationals history, narrowly edging out Deivi Cruz for that honor.

Of course, all this comes at a price. The martyrdom of Brendan Harris is complete, and the end is happier for Harris than it is for most martyrs. He might even get a chance to play, rather than scraping together a living as a George W. Bush impersonator. I'm informed that Bill Bray is pretty good, and I'm certainly misty over the good times I had watching what's-his-name and the guy Paciorek liked because he's Polish. But it's worth it, and for once Jim Bowden's single-minded pursuit of Reds has paid off for us. I'm even getting to the point that I trust him to trade Soriano.

If It Worked for Needham . . .

I'm thinking about quitting, too. Looove meeee!

Me 'n' Alfonso

Alfonso Soriano and I have something in common. At the moment, I'm 28 years old and drunk. I wish I could stay 28 years old, and I wish I could stay drunk.

Alfonso Soriano is a Washington National at the moment, and he wishes he could stay a Washington Natinoal.

I wish I could stay 28 years old and drunk. Soriano wishes he could stay a Nat. I shouldn't stay 28 years old, and I shouldn't stay drunk, and Alfonso shouldn't stay a National. So that's something we have in common. Awesome!

P.S. I'm also eating a pretzel. There's no reason, basebally-speaking, that I shouldn't continue.

You Can Tell I'm Mad When I Go Crazy With the Dashes and Happy Fourth Everyone!

How am I supposed to celebrate the independence of a country that allows Jim Bowden to walk the streets as a free man? Not just "free," but "employed." Not just employed, in fact, but "employed in a position with enough authority and job security that he can utterly ruin something I'm rather fond of." As opposed to before, when he could just ruin it a little bit for a little while.

So after two years, here's where we stand: Yes, we have a team, and that's the main thing. Everything else -- everything -- has gone wrong. I won't exhaust the list of petty stuff (laughable uniforms, lousy broadcasters, PNC Bank ads), because we're beyond. Our new owners are showing dismaying signs of frugality. Stan Kasten just proved himself -- maybe beyond any hope of redemption -- incompetent. And then there's Jim Bowden. Good old Bodes, the kind of guy you're glad is in baseball as long as he's got nothing to do with your team. An embarrassment as a baseball executive and maybe as a person. A symbol, as if another one was needed, of the Nationals' status as a second class franchise. He was the GM no one wanted -- hell, the GM other GMs wouldn't even talk to -- and they plucked him out of a TV studio because MLB didn't care and Bob Watson already turned them down.

And now -- gulp, steel yourself and say it -- Jim Bowden is our GM. Not the interim GM, and not the guy who won't make any moves until the real bosses take over. Jim Bowden is the real boss. It's obvious at this point that the Nationals aren't going to become a premier franchise anytime soon. Before we could hope. Now we just have to hope we're not the Pirates.

A Little Something For Anyone Stopping By

Feed him an apple!

Ahhh

Well, I feel better. The 2006 season got off to a very bad start. As I detailed in this Baseball Bias column (and may the earth rest lightly upon you, Baseball Bias), we pretty much got our head flushed in the toilet on the first day of school. You probably remember this, but Pedro Martinez and company hit -- with baseballs and malice aforethought -- everyone in the lineup, more or less. Finally, having taken more than any reasonable team could be expected to take, the Nats responded and received two suspensions, while the Mets got off without even a slap on the wrist. And we lost the game and the series. It stung like hell, and it was more than just being pushed around by the Mets. It was a reminder of our pathetic status -- no owner, little money, embarrassing management. As fans, we weren't in a position to talk trash to anyone.

This weekend's series against the Yankees finally sure changed my mood. The Yankees are everything the Nationals aren't: rich, successful, and professional. Their fans display an astonishing sense of entitlement, while ours work themselves into exhaustion trying to find a bright side in, say, parking garage negotations. And we did more than beat them. Alfonsono Soriano running wild like he was Jackie Robinson, Daryle Ward trying his damndest to kill himself huffing from first to home on Jose Guillen's triple, and finally Ryan Zimmerman's walk-off Father's Day home run -- we got a season's worth of highlights in one weekend.

It doesn't change much from a practical standpoint. Two wins against the Yankees don't cancel out four against Colorado, and we're still looking at a fire sale in the near future. Still, watching the Nats this weekend (and what a novelty it was to be able to do that), I had an odd feeling. It took me a while to figure it out: I was proud to be a Nats fan.

Current Events!

A riddle: What's the only thing worse than a busker?

A busker in an enclosed area.

Lawn 9, Me 0

Well, the Rockies swept the Nationals. Given that it was due in large part to the proverbially loveable Jamey Carroll and Baylor University's own Jason Jennings -- not to mention how happy it makes occasional Yard Work contributor Charlie Monfort -- I can't get too upset. Should I be worried, though?

Probably not. This kind of reminds me of last May. The Nats were playing pretty well, and surprised the hell out of me by staying not insignificantly above .500. But then they dropped two of three to the Blue Jays and got swept by Cincinnati, which prompted one of my all-time favorite jokes (because if I don't toot my horn, who will?):

The Nationals have often been described as "scrappy." This may be true, but the Reds just beat the "s" right out us.

What happened next? The Nats dropped another series to the Cardinals and then won 14 of 16 to vault into first place. Remember how rad that was? It probably won't happen again this time, but my point is not to worry too much about a sweep to a traditionally unimpressive team. Even though this was four games. At home. And Jamey Carroll beat us.

Speaking of which, I noted last year that Jose Guillen beats the hell out of teams he used to play for, a stat that fits neatly with his public persona (continually offended maniac). The conclusion:

Guillen versus former teams:
.333/.410/.688, 9 HR, 16 RBI in 93 ABs

Guillen versus non-former teams:
.297/.346/.478, 15 HR, 54 RBI in 387 ABs

He hits homers almost twice as frequently against his former employers, doubles at a better rate, strikes out less often, and perhaps most interestingly, gets plunked at a higher rate.

I'm not going to go through all his numbers this year, but he has hit half of his six homers against his former employers in Pittsburgh and Cincinnati, and it's a real disadvantage for the Nats that they don't see the AL West this year.

But what of mild-mannered Jamey Carroll? He has only one former employer, and he just got through destroying them: 8 hits, 3 walks, and 7 runs in four games. He's hit one-third of his homers against the Nationals. Sample size be damned: I conclude that, underneath the mild, Godly exterior, Jamey Carroll is determined to regain his manhood by exerting his dominance over the team that sold -- not even traded -- him like a piece of virgin meat. DAMN that's hot.

And the theme of vengeance takes us into the weekend, as the Nats host the Yankees. Alfonso Soriano's career line against the Yanks? .358/.402/.593 with 4 doubles, 5 homers, 10 RBI and 15 runs in 81 at-bats. And I think I just did a better job of getting you all keyed up for this series than Major League Baseball itself is capable of, if an email I received from them today is any indication.

Round two of Interleague Play should fire up fans' memory banks.

I remember when we didn't have to pretend that the Padres and Mariners were rivals.

The Orioles visit Shea Stadium, where Jerry Koosman, Jerry Grote, Ed Charles and the rest of the 1969 Mets performed their Miracle.

I remember that! I was so excited I sent a telegram to William Howard Taft, but he was busy hunting dodos.

The Dodgers and A's face each other in a reprise of the '74 and '88 Series.

Easily the highlight of my life until I was born.

And for those with really long memories, the Tigers and Cubs -- who played in the World Series 61 years ago -- meet again.

I bet the Cubs lost! And everyone was white! MLB ignored the really cool precedent here: the last time the Yankees came to RFK, the fans ran onto the field and started a riot so bad that there wasn't another baseball game in Washington for 37 years. If the marketing geniuses at MLB suggested that kind of excitement was about to ensue, I might have some interest in attending. But as it is, I figure a 9-0 forfeit loss is a lot less likely than a 9-0 regular loss, so I guess I'll just mow the lawn.

UPDATE: Another email, this one just for Nats fans!

Get your tickets now as Nationals stars Alfonso Soriano and Nick Johnson battle their former teammates!

In other words, "You're rooting for guys a great franchise didn't want anymore!" Way to rub it in, you bastards.

Discussion Question

If Jamey Carroll single-handedly beat us tonight, how upset would you be? What if he single-handedly sweeps us? What if he fouls off a ball that hits Bowden in the head? And Bodes is rolling around holding his head and he's all "Dawwwg . . . why you gotta . . . play me like that . . ."

Game Notes 6-8-06

• I think Philly's starter forgot to finish spelling his first name
• Bang
• Zoom
  

I'm Leaning Toward CillyCelebs.com

Davey Johnson! You have to figure he won't be spending more than, say, five months as "consultant to general manager Jim Bowden." In other words, meet our new manager. An improvement over Frank? I'm too shortsighted and drunk to remember much about the guy -- I barely remember Preston Wilson -- but here's Bill James, the last and hairiest defender of Pete Rose:

. . . did you ever notice that Dave Johnson (as a manager) has the world's largest collection of disgusting personal mannerisms? He picks his teeth with his fingers, tucks his hands in his armpits, scratches his head, shakes and pats his unmentionables, spits, drools.

One quibble: "unmentionables" means underwear, and I'm pretty sure James is talking about balls. At any rate, Johnson's dugout behavior (ball-scratching vs. sleeping) is certainly a downgrade, but I expect him to be an improvement in all other areas. So yay.

Above: One result of a Google image search for "Davey Johnson"

The problem -- and I'm sure alert readers are way ahead of me here -- is that this scenario also makes it look quite likely that the Jim Bowden regime is going to last at least another year. On the one hand, I'm glad they're not holding the DUI against him. The other hand is much larger, and I think it has gangrene.

This is where I'm glad I'm carrying around so much apathy. I mean, what the fuck? This is Jim Bowden we're talking about. Yeah, I know there's this perestroika or whatever going on because Soriano's hitting a couple homers a game, but that doesn't make him not Jim Bowden. A while ago, I cautioned against hailing the Nationals' new owners as saviors. Now I feel like the anti-Will Carroll. Which is to say, I'm so fucking right. Not that I take any joy in it. With another year of Tracksuit Jim on the horizon, I'm thinking about starting one of those celebrity gossip blogs. It seems like people will read one of those no matter how crappy it is.

A Feeble Kick

Hey, the Nats! I know I've sounded this note once or twice before, but a list of things on my television more frequently than the Nationals would include the Orioles, Samoa Joe, and Australian Rules Football. Combine that with my natural shiftlessness, and there's little chance of my summoning the pungent combination of vinegar and other fluids that make Distinguished Senators such a wild ride and its author a hero to children everywhere. It's hard for me to kick against the pricks, as they say.

Anyway, take a look at Alfonso Soriano. He doesn't seem to be interested in this, but I am.

Notice anything different about him? Notice that he's dressed like a baseball player, rather than an actor playing a baseball player in a commercial where they were too cheap to get the MLB license?

Here's Ramon Ortiz to remind of what a real baseball uniform looks like, as opposed to one designed by the people who brought us Turn Ahead the Clock Night. Is it coincidence that the Nats won not only this game, but also the next three? Yes, of course it is.

Speaking of the future, the amateur draft was today, and I've developed a test so that you, the reader, can figure out if you're a homer. With their first round pick, the Nationals selected Miami high schooler Chris Marrero. You don't know him from Adam, and neither do I.

Above: Chris Marrero in action.
Not really, but you didn't know that.

Is your response something like "Great pick! I think Marrero will be a real contributor!" Congratulations, your certificate is on the way.

The test works just as well with the following names: Colton Willems, Sean Black, Stephen Englund, Stephen King, Glenn Gibson, and Zechery Zinicola. Fifth round pick Cory Van Allen, however, is the perfect embodiment of the scholar/athlete and will be a contributor -- the question is not will he win a Cy Young Award, but how many will he win. How do I know? I just know.