I've got a grand idea!

Hey, maybe we should pitch to Jim Thome!!!


(weeping)




I can't think of a better way to bring on the following picture:



Boy, it's a long fall from here.

Andruw Jones, just like the entire White Sox baseball organization, runs the wrong way, away from success

My god, look at that. He runs the wrong way towards a fly ball. Wasn't he, at one time, better than Torii Hunter in centerfield? Was it hot wings that killed the beast? How did he get so fat, slow and dumb?

OHhhhhhhh, he plays for the White Sox.... that's what they do to people.

And, just so we're clear:

Every single time the Bitch Sox lose for the rest of the season, I'm posting this picture

What is that familiar feeling? Despair? Anguish? Seems every year around this time, you and a whole bunch of other Bitch Sox fans are replicating this stance.

Get those hands on the head, your team is bound for the gutter.

Hey Gavin Floyd, where exactly does Jason Kubel like his hanging curves?

Keep intentionally walking Mauer in front of him. He seems to like it.

The Entire Existence of the White Sox, Summarized in One Single .GIF

And there it is.

Honestly, I could just watch this all day. Just put that face in your palm. Just keep doing it, because you can't watch this garbage. LOVE IT.

Add Bob Davidson to the list

Bob Davidson. You sir, are old. So old in fact that, sometimes, when making a call on a ball whether it is fair or foul, YOU DON'T EVEN LOOK AT THE BALL TO SEE WHERE IT LANDS.



Just how old are you? Well, old enough that you used to ump when they wore THOSE hats.


Come on. Try harder.

Wings Taste Good

Hey, I was the big trade for the Tigers this year. You guys mind if I play shortstop? I can still... oh hey, is there anyone's name on those hot wings? If you'll just excuse- you don't have any honey mustard?

WINGS AND DOUBLE PLAYS.

Upswing in Productivity

(weighs walleye, it's a 4 pounder)

(scratches chin, smiles)


Justin! Orlando! Nick! Jose! Joe! JJ! My office, NOW!



(Hobble in, holding body parts that normally don't get injured)


Now, we've got a problem here. The problem, and this website can tell ya, is that we've had some difficulty not falling down and hurting ourselves while playing baseball this year. Now I know, I know. A lot of this stuff is just the nature of the game. Lou Brown will tell ya that even tough guys get sprains over the course of a season. But here's the problem: when you guys sit out, our team sucks. I don't know why it is, especially with you, Punto, but even though the other guy fills in by hitting grand slams, we still can't keep it together. And the Bitch Sox are just running all over us, because they're playing HARD! This can't happen!



Skip, I'm back now, so maybe we can-



CAN THE FACE! You missed time to get a cortisone shot in your throwing arm, and we all know how this one is going to play out. In a few days you've got the soreness back. So we can't do another shot, because of BALCO. So we rest you, again. No dice. All of a sudden it's weak grounders to second. And then the DL. AND THAT LEAVES ME WITH DREW BUTERA AS THE STARTING CATCHER!

Now let's run this down. Justin, you slid into a man's knee and knocked yourself silly, and you've missed a month. You still can't tell the difference between me and your dad. O-Dogg, you hurt yourself swinging. It's something that major league batters are supposed to do literally hundreds of times per day. And you pulled a muscle doing it. That's like me straining my voice yelling at my kids. Punto, dear god, where do I start? You pulled your hamstring busting down the line to first, like you always do. You've got an excuse already built in, don't ya? Jose, I'll get to you. Yours is the worst.



But skip, I'm all healed up!



YOU DISTORTED THE PAST AND DESTROYED THE FUTURE! YOU BROKE THE LINEAR TIME-SPACE CONTINUUM AND THRUST US FORTH INTO A DIMENSION FROM WHENCE WE WILL NEVER RETURN!





I'm... I'm not following.




Ok, Jose. Here it is. You hurt your wrist last year. You waited a long time to get surgery, until after the season ended. Then you didn't get better over the winter. You came to spring training and your wrist still hadn't healed. Which is kind of important, you know, because you're a catcher. You were the most experienced backup we had in the minors, and I could've carried you north to back up Joe alone, and it would've been grand. Instead, I had two other guys: Sal Butera's kid, and Wilson "Ain't Givin A Fuck If'n I Blast One To The Multifoods Tower" Ramos. Butera is a solid backstop, but couldn't hit a ping pong ball with a tennis racket. Ramos is 22, can hit the ball to North Oaks, but is as raw as I was with the Mets.

So I had to take Butera. But then, wouldn't you know it, Joe hurts his heel stepping on a base. Again guys, this is something we can avoid. So I need a backup. And here comes Ramos. And he goes and beats the hell out of the ball, like we all knew he would. And he becomes the best trading chip we've had since Santana. So then, Billy Smith gets 50 calls a day offering this and that for the kid. He holds off, knowing what he has. But when the trading deadline approaches, the tables turn. Now he can't find a taker. They want 4 guys for a half season of Cliff Lee. They want even more for Oswalt. Suddenly, he can't find anyone willing to part with their talent for this kid. So he panics, and we end up with Matt MF'n Capps. Straight up. Ramos, for a middling reliever. Thanks a lot, Jose.

JJ, you also hurt yourself sliding into a base.

So, boys, what are we going to do? Anyone have any suggestions? Anyone?



(silence)








I thought so. Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. Lemme get some guys in here who might be able to tell you a thing or two. KENT! GET IN HERE!





Howdy kids, how goes it? Take a look at that beaut right there. You know how I managed to win two World Series', retire a hero, and have my own fishing show where I can show up slightly drunk to work every day? BY PLAYING THROUGH PAIN, KID-O'S!!! You think it didn't hurt like hell to dive all over that turf? Tell your old man to drag Gant up and down the first base line and see if he don't get sore! But I'll tell you guys, I love baseball, and sitting out even a game would just get me more teased by my teammates. Greg Gagne would light your tighty-whiteys up if you were in the hot tub after a game!




Yeah, but Kent, you have a firm layer of blubber. The rest of us have developed muscles and tendons. How are we supposed to-





Just take a look at that, Senor. This is from my Beaver Huntin' show. You want that future? IT'S IN YOUR HANDS! Take a peek in the looking glass, kid. BRUNO, GET IN HERE!!!







Howdy folks. Just wanted to drop in and tell you guys... wait a second. What's that picture? OH YEAH, that's me with my biggest fans. I tell you, I picked these up in Kansas City, and I still can't get rid of em! Rat, come on in here and see if you can't straighten these kids out.





Christ on a bike, you punks. You can't run the bases without getting hurt? Oh, your arm hurts from too many sliders? I'll tell you what. Take one goddamn look at that mustache right there, and tell me to my fucking face that you can't go out there and play.

Thought so.

TOM!




(drives by in golf cart) What the? I recognize Joe and Justin, but who the fuck are these other clowns?







Sir, you traded for me in the offsea-



Can it, mush. Now, Ron told me to stop in today to give you guys a warning. PICK IT THE FUCK UP OR YOU'LL SWING FOR BELOIT UNTIL 2016!






Easy there Tom, I'm actually, well... let's see here. Maybe you could tell a story about injuries.






Fuck it, you're right. So take a look at that. Fucking Dave-o. Practicing sliding into second. The pig would rip one off the baggie and round first like a dog that Dickfer bet on at St. Croix. He'd come chugging into second, just barely beat the throw, but hit the bag like a freight train and splinter his ankle. So I told him, Dave, these injuries are slowing you down. How's about you just put the fucker in the seats, then you can take your time. Well, Terry comes down and tells me Dave-o is out, and we got a new fat guy in LeCroy to fill his spot. Shit, I don't care who does it, just tank that fucker into the balcony and we can all enjoy our cigars. So Dave-o leaves, starts hitting the juice, and wins two rings. The moral of the story is... SHIT BOYS, PLAY HURT OR DON'T PLAY AT ALL!!!



Thanks Tom, that's really going to help us out. Well, I guess that about does it. What's that? Oh, that's me toasting Carl for not folding the team and taking Bud's 20 million dollars.





Oh, what's in the cups? That's Purple Drank.

Highty Tighty, boys!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy!

Hootin tootin' howdy ho, boys! Name of Capps, Matt Capps, just come up here nort' in a trade a few days ago to he'p out your team with the baseball. Y'know, a lot of folks was askin questions about who exactly I ran with and what sorts of old boys I done played with, so I thought it might be proper to come in here and give it to you square.


Howdy dowdy, boys, you got yourself quite a stadium here! I sure do like the hospitality you folks give out... reminds me of back home. See I come up from Douglasville, out by Bremen and not far from Temple, and daddy we sure do appreciate our kin. The town I grew up in was pretty small, hell you could fit two of em in your nice new ballfield!

You see them wreaths right? Them's put up by Lady Maris, she done all the stitchin' herself goin on 30 years. And them stoplights is new since I left. Ain't had much reason to go back lately, hell I get all the grubbin I need from the Colonel up here!


so what does old Matty Capps do for fun, I hear you askin. Shoo' it ain't too hard to figure, I like the same things most ol' boys do: drinkin Shiner, whoopin it up at the horse pullin' regionals, and BBH, boy!

You know the Buck, you done seen it next to Silver Strike down at the B-dog. Well, Big Buck Hunter takes on all comers, it's still the game with the best bonuses and the most fun when 3 or 4 buddies are knockin back Busch and grab-assin on the waitresses! Hoo-eeeyyy!!!!!


Now I hear y'all wantin to get right down to it. You say, "Hey Matty, what's the brew of choice here in the up-country?" Well, hell boys, I see this place is just like Pittsburgh and ever other smallish metro area and you got yourself a rash of them "microbeers". Hellfire, son, I can't stand no hops in the brew! Gimme the Nat!!!! When you start talkin' mess about "grain this" and "yeast that", I say, forget that, just hand me a bowler of Coors and git out my way! Well anyway, the beer of choice up here is Northern.

They call it a "sweet brew", and I say amen to that! I found a case in old LeCroy's old locker when I first come up, and they said they was a holdin' it for me. Hells bells, boys, I was through that mother in less than an hour! Old LeCroy come up to me jes this morning and tol't me that it's a perfect fishin' brew, on account of how good it is to drink, but that it will also perk up a leech like nobody's business. Sho hogg!!!!


Speakin of Matty LeCroy, he's from up Belton way, out the land of south carolin-ey. I talked to him when he was with the Nats back a piece, and he done tol' me all I need to know about Minn'sota. He says as long as you keep up the intake of breaded cod, don't never leave town without a seperate duffel bag of Boggs Lite, and swing a curtain rod at empties for quarters in Thome's room, the rest is all gravy... literally. He turned me onto Lloyd's, and boy can they pull some pork!!!

That right there is a pitcher from when LeCroy was given a XXL shirt... he couldn't hardly git that thing buttoned!

Well boys, that about does 'er for old Matt, I'm plum wore out from bangin on this here e-Machines in Boof's old locker. I'll tell them other boys you done said hello, and I appreciate the welcome y'all give me when I step out there. You keep tossin em back, and I'll meet you up with you at Bunnies one of these nights!

(The door slams shut)

Look, I'm sick of this shit. We just got swept by the fucking GIANTS! Those cocksuckers did whatever they want to us. You know the last time we were swept by the Giants when I managed the Dodgers? 1993! Which...I guess...







Tommy, I understand what you're saying. We've just made some very exciting deals to help the team. I think we're still in it.

"We have some people saying 'woe is me' every time things don't go their way instead of just grinding it out. I hear someone say 'that's a really good pitcher.' All these guys are good pitchers. They make a good pitch, then foul it off." "No one is going to put a hand down to help you up. Where's the sense of urgency?"






See, Larry is exactly right. We're running out of time. You know how I feel when I see the bottle of my award-winning wine is running low? I get one at the ready. This way, my meal doesn't get screwed up. That make sense to you guys? It's OK, Andre, you can come in here. There's no curve balls around.

Hey guys, my wife just had a baby. I wish I could have helped this weekend. But, you know, duty calls.

Hey guys, I know it's been a while since I was a good player...it might even be back to when Trip was a Cubs fan...but don't worry! I just need to get adjusted to these new surroundings. Seriously, everything is cool. Coach Bowa, I-

Easy...Larry, let's all calm down. We don't need to...now, wait a minute.

EVERY TEAM AHEAD OF US HAS TO LOSE AND WE HAVE TO WIN THEM ALL! YOU HEAR ME? 58 PLAYOFF GAMES. GUYS ARE UP THERE GIVING AT-BATS AWAY. ASK MATT KEMP ABOUT THAT...IF I HAD HIS TOOLS, I'D BE IN COOPERSTOWN! DO YOU KNOW WHAT IF FEELS LIKE TO FUCKING GO FULL BORE FOR NINE INNINGS?!

Mamma Mia!

What is wrong with the Tigers?

I think it's either the fact that he drops the ball like a buffoon, or that he laughs about it.

Jesus will not help you, young man.

This is what happens when Liriano pitches against something named French

They might just want to whip out the dipstick.