Briefs: Various and sundry thoughts from a long weekend

Hope you all had a great long weekend, eating spaghetti squash and ham and turkey and watching baseball where Sportsnet deigned to put the playoff games on the air.

Watching douchebags fail makes life worth living
We felt for our buddy the Red Sox fan, who came over to watch the Red Sox-Angels game in the TaoCave on Sportsnet West (the only feed on which the "four-channel offering" could be bothered to run what should be a national sports media property).

Yeah, sure, he roots for a team full of pompous douches and rat-faced little twerps (shine that MVP plaque this offseason, Mr. 72 RsBI Pedroia), but you still have to empathize at least a little bit when you watch his arsewipe closer huff and puff and blow the game for the Masshole Nation.

Nah. On second thought, you don't. Because watching Jonathan Papelbon cough up a three run lead is one of the happier moments we've seen this year.

(And a free tip for Mr. Irish Jig for next season: Mix in an offspeed pitch once in a while.)

Anthopoulos does stuff
If you were wondering whether if Alex Anthopoulos is just keeping the GM seat warm until the mythical creature known as the Next President of the Jays is found, the news that he's brought in his pal Dana Brown from his days with les Expos should at least give a sense that he thinks he's got the job long term.

We'll leave it to those who dig into the whole prospect and development side of baseball to figure out if this is a good thing. The Nats don't seem to have an overwhelming abundance of talent, and the Expos had some pretty fallow years in the draft before moving south (Josh Karp and his $2 Million-plus signing bonus, anyone?)

Simmons slurpage
Speaking of the new GM, the Sun's Steve Simmons could barely contain his glee while writing his love letter to the new regime.

"It all sounds so promising and so anti-Ricciardi that you want to believe every word and you want to run alongside him, just hoping to capture that youthful exuberance," Simmons wrote.

Not that we're wishing ill on Anthopoulos, because the fate of the team that we spend entirely too much time worrying about rests in his hands and in his decisions. But we're getting an impression that the lad is going to get cut a lot of slack over the next few years because he is just so darned nice and Canadian. (Never mind that J.P. was pilloried for years for firing top scouts and minor league staff upon his arrival, while Alex is getting a pass on doing the same.)

A Bad Week for Umpires
It's probably a good thing that the first round of the playoffs has concluded, and that the pack of umpires will be culled by half. While it is understandable that umpires are going miss a few calls and the spotlight of the playoffs will make those mistakes more evident, this year's postseason seems to have had more than its share of botched calls.

The most fun for us, though, was suddenly seeing hundreds of people late on a Friday night landing on an 18 month-old post about Phil Cuzzi, and our general antipathy towards him. Fun stuff.

Happy Reading
Just picked up Stephen Brunt's new book, Gretzky's Tears: Hockey Canada, and the Day Everything Changed, and though we're only three chapters in, we can wholeheartedly recommend it. It's on sale. Go buy it. You owe it to yourself. Brunt is a national treasure, and buying his book will only convince Knopf to keep engaging him to write more of them. Which is a good thing.

The book is so good that about five pages in, we hit ourselves over the head with it, because his eloquent, engaging, and evocative prose is so far beyond anything that we'll be able to write. (And he doesn't even indulge in corny alliteration like we just did there.)

We need some time...

There's plenty to say in the wake of this season, and the myriad ways it fell to dust over the last four months.

We'd hoped to have some profound summation to the year that was, but today, we're just a mess of emotions that we'd prefer to keep to ourselves until we can sort them out into something coherent.

The Ack gave us all lots to ponder over the weekend on Cito, and we highly recommend a look there. Also, Stephen Brunt pretty much wrote exactly what we were thinking all of last week, only in a much more eloquently elucidated manner that we'd never be able to replicate. So you can read his take here. (Reading Brunt makes us hate our self just a little bit.)

As for us, we're going to stare off into the distance for a while and see if any of this makes any sense to us anymore.

A (somewhat fictionalized) transcript of Bob McCown's recent discussion on the Jays' president and CEO position

McCown: Grumble grumble grumble grumble Stan Kasten grumble Stan Kasten grumble grumble grumble Stan Kasten? Stan Kasten blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Stan Kasten! Grumble grumble grumble blah blah blah Stan Kasten, Stan Kasten grumble grumble grumble grumble grumble grumble blah blah blah Stan Kasten; Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten; Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten, my friend Stan Kasten.

Jim Kelley: Ahrbshholuuuutely, Bob!

McCown: Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten? Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten! Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten, flying faddoo Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten Stan Kasten.

Jim Kelley: You know in Burffalloo whhhere III aaam frrom...

McCown: STAN KASTEN!

Jim Kelley: AAArgh...I haahte paaaaying taxes in Caaanadaaa.

McCown: STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN!

Stephen Brunt: Fuck it. I'm taking the rest of the year off. If you need me, I'll be smoking fish in western Newfoundland.

McCown: STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN! STAN KASTEN!

Here's a challenge for the logicians

So we're catching up on our podcasts today, listening to McCown and Brunt talk to Dan Shulman on PTS, which we figure should be gold. But then the conversation turns towards Reed Johnson, and the everlasting mancrush that all three gentlemen have for him.

That's when it got strange. Shulman said the following in comparing Reed Johnson to his putative replacement Shannon Stewart:

"Shannon Stewart doesn't have the intangibles that Reed Johnson does."

We had to stop the podcast, sit down on a rock like Rodin's Thinker and figure this one out for ourselves.

If intangibles are things that you can't quantify or measure, then how can we judge whether or not if one person has more immeasurable qualities than another? How can we assess the relative value on things which have no palpable value?

Maybe Shulman (along with the two ditto heads in the Fan 590 booth) should have dropped the voice authority and pseudo-expertise and just said flat out "I like Reed Johnson better." Because how ever much you want to pretty it up with false analysis, that's exactly what he was saying.

And really, there's really no shame in that. Except for the fact that Reed Johnson runs like a girl.

The Tao of Stieb's Enemies List

Nixon had one. P.J. O'Rourke had an ironically smug one. So why can't we? There are so many people that we have an immense dislike for that we could break this off into a whole separate blog.

Let the listing begin.

Enemy #1 - Jim Kelley of Sportsnet
Let's begin with a measured statement: Jim Kelley is the root of all evil.

Okay, maybe we've gone too far with that one. How about this: Jim Kelley is singlehandedly running the Fan 590 and Sportsnet into oblivion.

We came to this conclusion last week while in the midst of our profound malaise. We thought it had everything to do with the length of Spring Training, but as the week went on, we came to understand that it had everything to do with Kelley's co-host duties on Prime Time Sports.

PTS is an institution, and we've gladly given them more than five hours out of our busy week for years now. But after listening to the wretched depths that the show reached last week, we've made a decision to never tune in again when Jim Kelley is on. (And don't even get us started with Kelley and Mike Toth being on at the same time. Seriously, when those two guys are on at the same time, our brains start to seep out of our ears.)

Listening to five hours of Jim Kelley in the run of a week is seriously fucking depressing. Instead of being a foil to the grumpy irascible Bob McCown, he cranks up the grumpiness to 11 and spouts off endlessly and cynically about stuff that he knows nothing about. Especially nauseating are those moments when Kelley gets into a lather about the Jays, then punctuates his rant with a comment that demonstrates his complete lack of knowledge, like "You know J.P. goes out and signs, um...er...what's his name? That guy who pitches and played for the team from California. Erm. You know, the Hispanic guy who wears a cap. Well, whoever it is, why did they sign him?"

It's fascinating to see the difference in the tone and content of the show when our mancrush Stephen Brunt sits across the console from McCown. He is able to play off of McCown's angry hanging judge mentality and steer the conversation back onto the rails with, you know, logic and reason. Brunt brings out the best in McCown.

Kelley, on the other hand, is a pompous, arrogant buffoon who growls, takes cheap shots, asks stupid non-questions (that are actually cheap shots), and helps lead the show into areas of idiotic
truculence that are worthy of a small-town Red State talk radio hoedown. He brings out the worst in McCown, and together they end up sounding like a pair of petulant, cantankerous old men, bitching and moaning about how kids these days just don't get it. It's like listening to two Morton Downey Jr.'s with hemorrhoids sitting on a cold metal bench and complaining about their ass pain. Not only is it unpleasant; it's completely uninteresting.

For doing his all to ruin the second best sports talk radio show in Canada (after Jays Talk, of course), we scrawl Jim Kelley's name at the top of the Tao of Stieb's Enemies List. (You been served, sucka!)

His name is Rios and he dances on the sand

What was all this 4-year/$40 million tomfoolery we were spreading last week? That's the last goddamn time we quote the National Post on anything.

We know we're the last to mention this, but Blairsy reported on the weekend that Alex Rios (seen above with noted artificial turf expert David Beckham) is looking for $5.65 million for 2008, whilst the Blue Jays are offering $4.535 million in return.

Obviously, with those sorts of numbers on the table, there's no great impetus for the Jays to break open the bank for the second time in as many seasons on an outfielder. Because it worked so well the first time around, right??

Neate-O Linkage
Out of Left Field's Neate Sager (who is retiring from sports blogging, just as soon as Jay-Z lives up to his retirement announcement) has two great posts up today. The first is an email exchange with the Great Wizard of Brunt, who 'splains hisself for not voting for nobody in this year's Hall of Fame balloting. (And as per usual, Brunt's email was engaging, poignant, and challenging...we bet that dude's post-it notes and grocery lists are better than our blog posts.)

The other is a takedown of an Ottawa Pet Trainer Citizen columnist who is perpetuating the myth that the Jays' AAA franchise has an icicle's chance in hell of moving to the Nation's capital next year.

Now, we'll admit that we've advocated for this in the past, and we'd love to see the Jays set up their AAA shop in Ottawa. But as Neate astutely points out, that would only work if Rogers were willing to cough up the cash to buy the International League franchise, move it to Bytown and eat the losses. That becomes much less likely when you consider that the very successful AAA franchise in Buffalo will likely need a dancing partner in 2009, and the Buffalo market would be as attractive (if not more so) than Ottawa to the pointy heads at Uncle Ted's Inc..

There's an argument to be made that moving a Blue Jays affiliate to Ottawa would work. (A New York Penn League team, perhaps.) But unless there's someone in the International League that is looking to unload a franchise - and remember that there was a franchise to be had on the cheap in Ottawa for the past five years! - there's no chance that the "Ottawa Blue Jays" will ever take the field on Coventry Road. No matter what sort of facile spin the crayon-eaters at the Citizen and the Sun try to put on it.

Sympathy for the GM

This is the sort of piece that many in the Toronto media (especially those who don’t actually cover baseball) love to hate: it’s one that gives J.P. some credit, where we think it is due.

We don’t doubt that J.P. is a bit of an abrasive arrogant butt munch. We’re sure that the fact that he’s changed his cellphone number without passing it on to the media is an absolute outrage. And we didn’t care for his obfuscating on B.J. Ryan’s injury.

But we’ll say this about the moves that he’s made this year: on a certain level, they worked.

It’s easy now for those like Steve Simmons (an abrasive arrogant butt munch in his own right) to gleefully hold up the off season acquisitions of Tomo Ohka, John Thomson, Victor Zambrano and Royce Clayton as abject failures.

But here’s the thing about those signings: J.P. took a low risk/high reward gamble on those players to fill in the gap for one year, laying down minimal commitments – both in years and in dollars – so as not to hamstring the franchise going forward, and so as not to rush players who weren't ready to play in the heat and light of the AL East.

None of those signings (nor even the Thomas signing, really) have worked out for the best on the surface of things. But how well do you suppose Shaun Marcum or Dustin McGowan would have done if thrust into the rotation on April 1? How would John McDonald played if he weren’t competing for starts with every at bat and every ground ball?

And how was anyone to know the full impact that injuries would have on Jays' roster this year?

On last Friday’s Prime Time Sports roundtable, Bob McCown, Mary Ormsby, Michael Grange and Stephen Brunt (sorry Steve…you’re still our favorite) took turns playing Whack-A-GM, writing off the season as a complete failure (and it's not even the All-Star Break!).

Grange even offered up the profound nugget that the B.J. Ryan signing was a good one last year, but not this year…talk about having your cake and eating it too. (That level of insight and depth of baseball knowledge is perhaps why the Globe has him writing on basketball and golf.)

The absurdity goes on: Marty York (in his “MLB Report” for that paper with which homeless people keep themselves warm) recently floated the idea that J.P. is in trouble, and that Gord Ash (!!) was going to ride back into town to save the day.

The greek chorus in the press box like to wax poetic with penetrating hindsight on past failures such as dumping Chad Gaudin, or the Luke Prokopec deal, or any number of other botched deals. Or how A.J. Burnett is a ".500 pitcher", and wasn't worth the money they gave him, even though lesser pitchers have already surpassed his contract.

(Has anyone noticed how little Ted Lilly's done lately?)

We don’t want to sound like apologists. We don’t think that J.P. is a “genius”, and we’re left wondering about some of his past decisions. But we also think that you can assail just about any exec in MLB if you selectively and superficially pick through the ashes of history.

Cheers to Brunt

Stephen Brunt is unquestionably our hero. We have a bit of a man crush on him, although it is totally platonic. We just want to have a barbecue with him, that's all.

And praise is due once again to the Brunt, as his Monday column cut through a lot of the self-serving hokum and the teeth-gnashing that surrounded this weekend's celebrations of the 60th anniversary of Jackie Robinson breaking baseball's colour barrier.

Many have pointed out that the number of African Americans in baseball has been on a steady decline over the past decade, down to around 9% this year. Brunt quite rightly points out that baeball remains strikingly diverse, with visible minorites making up more than 40% of MLB rosters.

(We'll take this sort of well-reasoned insight over Geoff Baker's execrable "White Jays" Toronto Star cover story any day.)

And as a side note, remember that when people are referring to a lack of "blacks" in MLB, players such as Carlos Delgado, Andruw Jones, and others of Caribbean descent don't "qualify"...