I think I say this every summer but—it’s August tomorrow? How did that happen? Why haven’t I had more uncomfortable, sunburned nights? Why haven’t I listened to more multi-platinum hip-hop? Why have I showered so often?
Step one:
Step two:
I’m going to New York City tomorrow.
So I laughed.
That is not pleasing.
More from Kenny on Pudge:
But the more I think about it, the more ok with it I am. Allegedly, pudge wasn’t too keen on the idea of splitting time with Inge for the rest of the year and then probably next year. And they already tried to trade inge and couldn’t get anything out of him. So they decided they would just move forward with Inge as their catcher. That also prevents them from having to pay pudge 10 mil next year when he’s a free agent.
I would have liked to have gotten more than Kyle Farnsworth, but a 3.8 era or whatever he has isn’t too shabby. And I can’t imagine many teams were inclined to give up a lot of prospects for a 36 year old catcher who has 5 homers and 35 rbi this season. I mean the truth is, Pudge is still a good defensive catcher, but he’s not the dominant force behind the plate he once was, and offensively he’s pretty average, and clearly on the decline.
So i’m fine with it. The tigers obviously needed help in the bullpen, and I think they can live with inge behind the plate. But you guys are right that pudge deserves a lot of credit for helping turn this team
around. I don’t know if you can say that Magglio definitely would not have come if pudge wasn’t here the year before (we supposedly offered him way more money than anybody else) but it probably made it a lot easier sell to bring him in.
Just the psychological damage of seeing him in the evil empire’s pinstripes will not be worth the addition of Kyle Farnsworth. Plus, despite the fact that his power numbers have dropped off badly, he’s still probably a top ten offensive catcher. Couldn’t they have shopped him a little more? I think this move took all of us by surprise—was the whole MLB engaged in the talks? I smell Boras all over this thing.
In related news, Exxon sucks.
I always preface my discussions of ESPN with something like, “Well, they must know what their audience wants.” Or, rather, they know what gets the best ratings. They must be using quasi-scientific polling to determine what stories get viewers and sell advertising, right?
But is anyone interested in the will-he-won’t-he Brett Favre saga anymore? He’s a great quarterback and all, but I have heard the various sides of this thing debated over and over and over and over and over. And each time it’s with such intense gravity, like the family dog just died and we’re trying to put our grief into words.
“I just can’t get over one simple fact. Just. One. Simple. Fact. The Packers are better with Brett Favre.”
If Favre signs with Minnesota and starts the season at Lambeau against the Pack, I’ll care. And I’ll care by watching the game. But the self-hijacking of ESPN by this Brett Favre cold war is ridiculous. Someone wake me up when the NBA is back.
Mark Baard (via Universal Hub): Strange protest (evangelization session? publicity stunt?) outside of the Boston Aquarium.
He’s going to be unemployed soon, right?
Kenny just gave me the news. We’ve dealt the man who symbolized the renaissance of baseball in Detroit. To New York. The Yankees. For Kyle Farnsworth. Former Tiger Kyle Farnsworth. Didn’t we release him or trade him for a set of bats or something? What’s happening here?
Really good breakdown of the Okafor extension.
Finally, WordPress’ “Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)” feature leads me something interesting.
This person has a poem by Jack White about Detroit that I missed somehow (it was featured pretty prominently in the Freep.) It’s something of a response to the people who claimed he sold out his hometown by moving to Nashvegas, Tennessee. Very good:
The following poem is the Detroit from my mind. The Detroit that is in my heart. The home that encapsulates and envelops those who are truly blessed with the experience of living within its boundaries:
I have driven slow, three miles an hour or so, through Highland Park, Heidelberg, and the Cass Corridor. I’ve hopped on the Michigan, and transferred to the Woodward, and heard the good word blaring from an a.m. radio. I love the worn-through tracks of trolley trains breaking through their concrete vaults, As I ride the Fort Street or the Baker, just making my way home.
I sneak through an iron gate, and fish rock bass out of the strait, watching the mail boat with its tugboat gait, hauling words I’ll never know. The water letter carrier, bringing prose to lonely sailors, treading the big lakes with their trailers, floats in blue green chopping waters, above long-lost sunken failures, awaiting exhumation iron whalers, holding gold we’ll never know.
I’ve slid on Belle Isle, and rowed inside of it for miles. Seeing white deer running alongside While I glide, in a canoe. I’ve walked down Caniff holding a glass Atlas root beer bottle in my hands And I’ve entered closets of coney islands early in the morning too. I’ve taken malt from Stroh’s and Sanders, felt the black powder of abandoned embers, And smelled the sawdust from wood cut to rehabilitate the fallen edifice. I’ve walked to the rhythm of mariachis, down junctions and back alleys, Breathing fresh-baked fumes of culture nurtured of the Latin and the Middle East. I’ve fallen down on public ice, and skated in my own delight, and slid again on metal crutches into trafficked avenues.
Three motors moved us forward, Leaving smaller engines to wither, the aluminum, and torpedo, Monuments to unclaimed dreaming. Foundry’s piston tempest captured, Forward pushing workers raptured, Frescoed families strife fractured, Encased by factory’s glass ceiling.
Detroit, you hold what one’s been seeking, Holding off the coward-armies weakling, Always rising from the ashes not returning to the earth.
I so love your heart that burns That in your people’s body yearns To perpetuate, and permeate, the lonely dream that does encapsulate, Your spirit, that God insulates, With courageous dream’s concern.
