Pitching is such a vital part of the game, as far as winning is concerned.

On most teams the set up man has become more valuable, on others not so valuable.

Something to keep in mind — it’s raining lightly. The infield could be very wet on ground balls.

What is a drop and drive pitcher? He is a guy who drops and drives. Very simple.

So by guessing right you might have guessed wrong.

Giambi walks too much. He’s always clogging up the bases with all that walking.

As a new day begins in New York, the sun sets in Hawaii.

If football is a game of inches then baseball is a game of inch.

If that ball had more elevation, it would have been a home run.

If the double play is a pitcher’s best friend, what is a fielder’s choice? An acquaintance?

It’s better to have a fast runner on base than a slow one.

One thing about ground balls. They don’t go out of the ball park.

The reason we call that pitch up and in is because the arms are attached to the shoulder.

He wears his hat like a left hander!

Any ball that goes down is much heavier than any ball that stays on the same plane.

The blood on his sock looks exactly like Oklahoma!

You don't want to use too many statistics. The ones that apply to a July or August game won't be relevant on Saturday.

American McCarver

Nathan’s is All Filler

So Joey Chestnut has once again been crowned Repulsive Gorging Champion of the World, in a contest that fully 81% of ESPN viewers don’t even consider a sport. Let pass that there’s actually an organization called “Major League Eating.” Let pass the spectacle of men rhythmically stuffing their gullets with soaked hotdogs. Let pass, well, pretty much everything about the event. None of it matters in the face of a single, strident fact:

It’s terrible TV.

The whole reason that the contest exists — or, rather, than it’s anything other than a half-column-inch curiosity in tomorrow’s paper — is to fill an hour of airtime. And it does a terrible job of it. The eating only lasts for ten minutes, and that’s nauseating to watch. There’s no balletic beauty, no elegant effort. There are just a bunch of guys — some in mohawks and in facepaint — stuffing themselves. This is the cameras turned around, away from the professionals and into the stands. If I want to watch people eat themselves sick, I could just look over to the right-field All-You-Can-Eat bleachers at Dodger Stadium.

But let’s say that gluttony porn was your thing, and you… get off… watching it. First, there are very likely several dozen Web sites that can fulfill that need more professionally for just a few bucks a month. And if you’re too cheap to pop for your own dogs and a mirror? Well, then, you’ve still gotta sit through fifty minutes of the worst television sports cliches imaginable. You think Olympic coverage is padding with faux-inspirational stories and gauzy soft-focus? At least it’s followed by, y’know, actual sport. The Coney Island hotdog eating championship is as fluffy and in-the-way as an unsoaked bun.

And so another year comes and goes, padding with cliches and bad editing, shot through with filler and pig lips, topped with a spectacle that’s straight out of ancient Rome. The only difference is that in Rome, they followed it with the vomitorium championship.

I hope I haven’t given any one any ideas.


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