Rivaling Tim McCarver for most asinine baseball commentator in the game today– the one and only, Joe “The Red Sox suck because they were the last team to integrate– I don’t give a shit about Ortiz and Manny today, I’m talking ‘62″ Morgan. (From his ESPN chat)
Bob (Brooklyn): What’s more important to evaluate a pitcher: Wins or ERA?
Joe Morgan: I’ve always believed that an ERA is like a batting average. It’s a personal thing. For instance, a guy could hit .300, but not be as valuable as a guy that hits .270. A guy that makes 7 outs out of 10 with guys on base, he’s not that valuable. But if you’re clutch, but hit .275, you’re more valuable. That’s why I think wins are better. It’s just as tough to win a game 7-6 as it is 1-0. The only thing that matters at the end of the year is how many games did we win.
Kyle (Kansas): What is the most overrated stat in baseball?
Joe Morgan: Batting average and earned run average and this OPS stuff they do. OPS doesn’t tell you anything except about the individual. The same as the other stats. It doesn’t tell you anything about the team. A .300 average doesn’t help you win games, run production does.
Priceless. Absolutely priceless. I should stop ragging on Julio Lugo for having a .195 batting average. Thank you Joe Morgan. Thank you.
There are an awful lot of signs on the highways around here (81 and 90 come to mind) that say “State police aircraft used in radar enforcement.”
What exactly does that mean? Do they have like planes taking some form of crude speed measurements from the sky? Blimps relaying some form of signal to chase cops on the ground? Or air these “aircraft” used merely to catch said offenders. I mean, the $200 ticket would probably be worth it if I was chased by a helicopter with flashing red and blue lights, hovering at tree level, shining a spotlight on me, with a megaphone speaker or something such going “Pull over now!”
For the first time since we won the Blue Hen Open, Cornell Bowling gets a mention in some form of media not called the Cornell Daily Sun. Brooklyn TV talking to our new incoming freshman.
OK. Someone try and tell me this isn’t the most hilariously ironic thing you’ve seen. At least today.
Kevin Youkilis is currently the Sox 1B (I’d rather have him be our 3B and get like Mark Teixeira to play 1B, but that’s beside the point). Baseball Prospectus is a self-proclaimed “think-tank focusing on sabermetrics.” Sabermetrics is the study of baseball statistics for you fans who like balls being kicked around as opposed to slapped around. Anyways, they have a naming structure for their individual player pages. First 5 letters of your last name, first two of your first name, then 01, 02, 03 and so on (in case you have two fellas named Jose Ortiz– which is actually the case). For instance, Jon Papelbon is papeljo01.php.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention one thing. Kevin Youkilis is Jewish. Not a huge deal– unless you are Denis Leary and you spend an entire inning in the NESN studio box wondering how much Mel Gibson hates a team that has both Kevin Youkilis AND Gabe Kapler on it.
But without furthur adieu, Kevin Youkilis’ personal B-P page.
While spending my summer up here in Geneva, I’m living in this rickety old former Chi Phi house which apparently is now home to the “Multicultural Awareness House.” Since apparently people up here are unaware that their are many different cultures.
Anyway, since we’ve been here, there’s been this festering carpenter ant problem. Not a ton of ants by any stretch, but every other day one’ll rear his little black scurrying self. And I show ‘em who’s boss. Something something circle of life.
But today as I bid one of my enemies adieu as I plucked him off the bathroom sink and tossed him into the toilet I wondered– will his little ant friends notice he’s gone? Will there be screams of “Nooooooooooooooooo Dave!!!! WHY DAVE WHY!?! I told you never to fuck with the fat one!” between hysterical sobs of loss and misery. Are there ant memorial services? Does the CNN of ant kingdom break into regularly scheduled programming?
…
Nah. I bet it just pisses the queen ant (or whoever their leader is) off because it’s one less of her minions she gets to eat. That’s how bitch rolls.
Friday morning, I left for lunch early. It ended up costing me, as I missed the free staff barbecue held on the quad. But it was well worth it. You see, I had to say an important goodbye to an important guy. Friday morning, Bob Barker hosted his last episode of The Price is Right.
Sure, being the host of The Price is Right can give you headaches. All those old housewives, Canadian families, and Asian tourists. But c’mon, you did get to hang with some southern California collegiate hotties– so it couldn’t be all bad. And seriously, who really doesn’t like seeing their name on every single person’s t-shirt in an entire studio audience?
So here’s to you, Bob Barker. Thanks for giving us the Beauties. Thanks for making excellent use of the Plinko stick. Thanks for Punch-a-Bunch and the Showcase Showdown. Thanks for the inspirational putts. Thanks for that time you karate chopped the shit out of Master Key because the key wouldn’t turn. Thanks for making sure no one stopped the Range Game too soon, because no one wanted to wait another 37 hours for it to start back up. Thanks for helping all those 89 year-old great-grandmothers make sure they could get the wheel all the way around once or it didn’t count and they’d have to spin again. Thanks for teaching me that a bottle of Flintstones Chewables vitamins was $6.72. Thanks for giving me something I could wake up to instead of sleeping ’til 4 during summer vacation in middle school. Thanks for giving me something to do so I could go oil the lanes at Sky Top late. Thanks for giving me a reason to not leave 271D for Linear Algebra. Thanks for giving me a reason to skip stats and hang out in 7E. Thanks for giving me something to watch before synoptic lab in 3E. Thanks for being on at 11 on CBS every weekday morning I’ve been on this planet. Thanks for hosting the most kick-fucking-ass game show of all time.
And Bob, don’t worry, I’ll help control the pet population. I’ll remember to have my pet spayed or neutered.
There’s this giant map of the United States above my desk at work. Just to give you an idea at how big and cramped this map is, Winsted is listed.
I’m physically closest to the southwestern US, and the map includes part of Mexico. Only important in the fact that I can look up and comprehend cities from my chair at my computer without having to stand up, move, and look closer at the map.
There’s a city in Mexico (in the state of Chihuahua no less– though I presume the dog was named after the region, not the other way around) named Nueva Casas Grandes. Yup. The city is named “Big new houses.”
Funniest. Picture. Ever. And I kinda like the half-assed smirk on the person in the front seat.
Though if this were me, I’d already be planning my million-dollar “How I Survived 23 Days in Jail” tell-all book. Or better yet, made-for-TV movie. Paging Johnny Drama.
And as another aside, how awesome would it have been to be an anchor for CNN today. I mean, six straights hours of Paris Hilton. Un-fucking-believable.
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