For Fucks Sakes, Trade Him Already!

Rumor has it that the New York Mets are closing in on bringing Johan Santana to Flushing as the next big ticket. Honestly, before I had woke from my after work nap and even heard this; this was going to be my post title. I’m tired of hearing about it. Santana to Boston, Santana to New York, Santana to the other New York. ENOUGH! Get him out of Minnesota and into the Big Apple immediately.

Maybe he can get through 1/3 of an inning in the biggest game of the year for the Mets, no?
Full reaction to come after the trade is officially announced. My gut reaction?
I’m an NL guy on video games. I don’t wanna have to face Santana. Rats.

The Roger Clemens Report is available

Was this right before you pulled a tractor in your teeth?

Roger Clemens has launched a rebuttle, and he’s done it in the form of a website that transforms into a PDF File. RogerClemensReport.com will take you to this said file, which was written by Hendrick Sports Management LLC. Randal Hendricks and Steven Mann will be sending Roger Clemens the bill on this one, as they headline the report. So that’s what a Sports Management degree can do for a guy. I wonder if I could have written the Clemens report. Maybe I will make an Adam Dunn report. I don’t know.

This report will evaluate the career of Roger Clemens, one of the most successful pitchers in major league history. It will examine both the quality and quantity of his pitching over the course of his 24-year career. As of the 2007 season, Clemens was one of the twenty-nine active major league players who were at least 40 years old. Of those twenty-nine, eighteen were pitchers, and twelve of those were starting pitchers.

Really, this report reminds me of when you give a kid a plate of mashed potatoes and vegtables they don’t want to eat. They’ll shove the potatoes and the broccoli around, but it doesn’t really go away. No matter how much they push it around, it still is there staring them in the face even though you can change the exact state cause they’re moved around.


-PDF available here.

Clemens has his chance to clear his name

If Roger Clemens really wants to clear his name as badly as he says he does–he’ll never have a greater chance to do it. He’ll also be able to pocket a cool $500,000 in the process, as if that type of money does any talking with a guy like the Rocket Roger Clemens.

From Hollywood Gossip:

The strange program, which debuted to 23 million viewers last week, sent a letter to the Rocket’s manager, asking Roger Clemens to appear.

Contestants on the show are asked a series of personal questions while hooked up to a polygraph – and then have to own up to their answers.


Somehow, I have a feeling that Clemens won’t be going on any gameshows anytime soon.

'Lights Out' Ready for a 2008 return

I knew that this Francisco Liriano was something something special when I saw him throw for a spell in 2005. Then, he burst on the scene in 2006 winning 12 games and having a sparkling 2.16 ERA with 144 K’s in 121 innings.

Then he got hurt.

Now, this guy is ready to resume a career at 23-years old that just might make Johann Santana expendable. He’s that friggin’ good.


Just a little over a year removed from Tommy John elbow reconstruction surgery, Liriano was on hand this weekend for the club’s annual TwinsFest. And he said Saturday that he’ll be ready to go for the start of Spring Training.

“Everything feels good –no pain, no soreness,” Liriano said. “Now I’m just waiting to get started.”

I’ll be interested to see what Liriano is doing in the middle of the 2009 season. They say it takes 2 full years to come back from Tommy John. It’s been one. I think by the time this guy is 26, 27 years old, he’s going to be one of the finest young pitchers in baseball; and better than Johann Santana. You heard me. He was on his way before the injury. Stay tuned.

Anyone Else Excited for 'Vindicated'?

I have to say, Juiced was one of my favorite books of all-time, and as far as baseball books go; it was second only to The Bad Guys Won, finishing slightly ahead of The Roberto Clemente Story. Canseco’s first book was a true classic because it was entertaining, and it breached a lot of bridges in Canseco’s personal life. These bridges were ties within baseball that he made throughout his career. In the end, it was a bloodbath, with many names named, and many being true users of steroids as time would tell.

Fans of that book will have a new reason to look forward to Opening Day 2008: Vindicated the sequel to Canseco’s first book, will be released. More names are expected to be named including Alex Rodriguez and Magglio Ordonez.

I loved Canseco’s first book so much I even read his ex-wife Jessica’s book, Juicy. It was equally good shit in general, despite being written by a woman. The new book will get plenty of run on this site for sure, and I’ll probably rip through it in about 4 days.

If you're going to play like 'chit, you might as well look good doing it!

The Devil Rays no longer want to have anything ‘Devil’ associated with them. They just want to be known as the Rays. If they think that will help them compete with the Red Sox and the Yankees I give them credit. It would be good for baseball if they were no longer the doormat of Major League Baseball. They’ve also added new uniforms. It’s a nice touch, no doubt.

James Shields worked out a deal to get rich (7-years, $44 Million). Today, they locked up Carlos Pena to a nice 3-year deal. They cut the ties with Delmon Young, who looks to be the next Jermaine Dye; but with an attitude.

Basically, just wanted to get a post up of the Rays new uniforms. They won’t get enough of these posts once the season starts.

Note: Credit OMDQ with the save on this one; reminding me it was James Shields and not Scot who signed. I knew that but I was tired at the time of writing the article.

The Adventures of Cecil & Prince episode I: Crushin’ Pu–y

[Big Ceece is sitting in computer chair, reading recent Jayson Stark online chat]
Big Ceece: What the fucks this? What did that little, no-good, snake in the grass Jayson Stark said about my boy in his most recent ESPN chat? Not the best young power-hitter in baseball? I’d like to ring his neck and shove that little moustache in his prick! Won’t age well like his dad? I think I’ve aged fine, thank you. He even went as far as to call Prince ‘fat’. You ain’t callin’ my boy fat, Splinter. Muddafucker. We’ve got something for ya. It’s a good thing it’s the offseason.

[Big Ceece wobbles down the hall to Prince’s room]

Big Ceece: Prince….we gotta go to the cages. We’re gonna hit the treadmill too after. Shoulda’ seen what that cracka Stark said about you today…………. Boy I hope you ain’t sleeping.

[Presses ear to door]

…howling….

[Inches closer]

Deep Voice: “Awraahhhhh aaaarggghhhh ya girl. Hoooly shit. I’m gonna wax that ass and then let you wash off that big black Louisville Slugger with that mouth. Awwhhh shit”.

Big Ceece: SON-OF-MA-BITCH. Sounds like a hyena bein’ killed on one-a them animal planet films. Fuck this I’m going in.
[Busts in door]

Prince: (pulls covers over him and another companion) ‘The fuck you doing, Pops?

Big Ceece: What am I doing? You gotta see what that little weasel said bout’ you on ESPN. Said Ryan Howard is the guy he’d build a team around. Called you fat. Now get up. We gots work to do. We’re gonna go hit. We’re goin’ to the treadmill. Do some CARDI-O. You’re gonna be in the best damn shape of your life come 2008 Opening Day.

Prince: I ain’t going anywhere. Shut that fuckin’ door and let me get back to work old man. You interupted me.

Big Ceece: Interrupted what, fool?

Prince: What? You deaf? I was crushin’ this pu–y.

(Pulls covers off the head of random floozy)

Big Ceece: Get that money-grubbing, skeeza ass ho; outta dis-bitch! NOW! You gotta get your ass on the treadmill and run. Tha SEASON,,, DAPENDS on it!

Prince: Rolls over and tries to drift off to sleep.

Big Ceece: Come on’ CHAMP! You know that was almost your given birth name, don’t you? You reminded me of the heavyweight champion of the world since the time you crawled out of yo’ momma. You were just so little and cute. Now you’re big; fat; you’re lookin like……

Prince: Lookin’ like what? A young Cecil Fielder? I remember you when during your career years. You were big as hell. Mothafucka, you prolly ain’t seen your balls since Lennon was banging out Yoko-Fungu, and even then you had to use a furniture dolly to get to those muthafuckas.

Big Ceece: Why, I ought-a yank you outta there by your neck, pup. I ought-a rip your ass outta that fuckin’ sack and kick your nuts through your teeth. But I won’t. You know why, Champ? You’re my fuckin’ meal ticket.

(plots)

Tell you what boy. There’s a swap-meet going on next door to the cages. You come there with me, do some runnin’, calistenics, get that swing flowin’, I’ll pay your entry to it. We got a deal, champ?

Prince: Well I was gonna go by myself, later. After I was finished puttin’ a hurtin on dis’ ass. Wait, where’d she go?

Big Ceece: Reminds me of the time I met your momm-

Prince: (gets shit and is out the door).

[Auburn Hills Batting Cages, Detroit, MI]

Batting Machine: Phoop. CRACK! Phoop. CRACK! Phoop. CRACK!

Big Ceece: Boy….mmmm mmmmm mmmmm. That swing is lookin’ good. Not quite to where mine was when I was hittin’ em off the roof at Old Tiger Stadium. But it looks good, Champ.

Prince: ‘The fuck you talkin’ bout? I was 23 last season. I hit 50 homeruns. Youngest fool to ever roll that way. When you were 23 you were on your way to Japan to get the cream of Sum-Young-Du. Heh heheheheh. Heheheheh.

Big Ceece: You laugh boy. But I always loved hittin’. There was only one thing I loved more in my life I loved more than gettin in these ol’ cages and hittin till my hands bled.

Prince: Mom?

Big Ceece: Psh! FUCK NO.

Prince: Those thin-stripped salmon cutlets with walnut-cocktail sauce?

Big Ceece: Hmmmmmmmmmm. Forgot all about those. But no.

Prince: White women?

Big Ceece: Off the record, it was close.

Prince: So what then?

Big Ceece: A game of dice! Boy, you are as dumb as you look. Now work that outside pitch. If you’re gonna hit 50 homeruns again this year, you gotta learn to hit backside.

Prince: Hit backside huh? Well I think I was doin’ a pretty good job of that when you busted in like Colonel Cock-guard and told my skins to get da fuck out.

Batting Machine: Phoop….. CRACK! Phoop….. CRACK!

Prince: There. Backside. Let’s get outta here.

Big Ceece: Not so fast there marshmellow steamed-snuff. We’re hittin the treadmill. Well, haha, you’re hittin it. I’m gonna do line jumps with my eyes and watch you.

Prince: The fuck you are. Look, I’m a new-age ballplayer. I hit an inside the park homerun last season. I’m an athlete. I’m not a fuckin’ turd with arms and legs that ate himself out of the league. You are. I’m gettin out of here and going home to crush some more.

Big Ceece: My rules. My house. My mustard jar, Champ. As long as you’re crushin’ on my watch you’re going to do my workout regimen. You understand me boy? Now, lace up those cross trainers, cause turf shoes don’t play well with tread-mills, bitch.

Prince: (goes to take a swing) You motherfu-


[POOF. Out of thin air a figure appears]

Prince: Paul Molitor? Da’ Fuck you doing here?

Paul Molitor: Cocaine is a hell of a drug man. Lots of cocaine. Plus I heard someone talking about dark women.

Big Ceece: (scratches head, ponders)

Paul Molitor: I’m the ghost of Batting Titles past. I’m here to help you, Prince. You’re father is right.

Big Ceece: See, Champ. I know what the fuck I’m talkin’ bout. I told you tha-

Paul Molitor: You’re already much better than your father ever was.

Big Ceece: Aw, is that so light-skin? Looks like I’ve found-ma fuckin’ dinner. White meat. I bet you taste awfully gamey don’t you Molly?

Paul Molitor: Because I did great things in a Brewers uniform, I’ve got an extra interest in you, Prince. You can re-define hitting in this league. You can re-write the record books. You’re a souped up Porsche in a league full of…. A league full of…..

Prince: League full of ho-ass, pimped out Hondas with the factory speakers still in them. Damn straight.

Paul Molitor: Whatever. If you stay in shape, Prince; the sky is the limit. I’ve never seen power like yours before. You can contend for a batting title while having a shot at 70 to 80 homeruns. You’re a perennial MVP candidate year in and year out.

Big Ceece: Cut to the chase, Cracka ass. Why you suckin up to Champ’s dick?

Paul Molitor: I want to see your boy take the Brewers to the top while becoming one of the greatest hitters in league history. Plus I remember him saying something about a one of his ‘companions’ and I wouldn’t mind ‘gettin me some of that.’ Let’s get it done.

Big Ceece: Well I’m his agent. I make the calls. I decide what works and what doesn’t for Champ.

Prince: My name is Prince, See-sul. You ain’t shit but a dark tumor that drags down my style with your dead weight. Mr. Molitor, if you really see that type of potential, and you think you can bring out the best in me; we could go home and crush a few later. I’m always down for crushin’ hunnies, heh heh.

Big Ceece: This is unreal. I gave birth to you son. Before I came along, boy, you were nothing more than a pimple on Bud Selig’s ass. I don’t know who you think you are talkin about your daddy that way, but the best part of you obviously ran down your momma’s leg at the Detroit Waffle House I met her at. Now get your butt on that treadmill. I’ll get my stopwatch. Interval runs.

Prince: I ain’t doin’ shit.

Paul Molitor: You should run some, Prince. If you can’t battle your weight; how will you ever do battle with guys like Chris Carpenter? Aaron Harang? Roy Oswalt? The beasts of the NL Central await you on your conquest.

Prince: (laces up running shoes) You’re right. I’ma give this runnin’ shit a shot. Just this once.

Paul Molitor: Then it’s settled. See you in the champagne room, See-suhl’s house, 8:00 PM.

[POOF, Molitor disappears]

Big Ceece: Kid, I’m glad you’re willing to listen to someone. But Molitor doesn’t know shit about being a power hitter. You gotta listen to your pops. You know I once hit a ball at Sky-Dome that killed a woman walking on the street by the shopping mall outside the stadium? That’s power. I’m training you, Champ.

Prince: (Running. Singing to I-Pod, TUPAC, Picture me Rollin)………..

Just a few short hours, I be crushin’ some more of that sweet black ass.

Big Ceece: Fuck. To hell with this. Now where’d I put the number to that fried chicken place that bakes their fries?

Read God Save the Fan

I want you to get to your nearest book store, Hoggers; and purchase God Save the Fan by Will Leitch.

I wrote a more detailed post about this on my NFL site, but as We Are the Postmen put it: “We really never would have gotten into this whole blogging thing had it not been for E stumbling upon Deadspin back in January of ‘05. A win for Leitch is a win for the sports blogosphere as a whole.”

For every sports blogger out there, no matter how insignifcant their voice on the large scale internet may be; Leitch is our leader. If this little plug on my small baseball site gets one person in the world to know about the book that didn’t before, than I’ve done by unknown favor to a good guy who views sports similarly to me, and a fella that’s been my inspiration for starting this site and really changed my life.

Check it out!

Take me back to my Childhood

Heavens, take me back. Last night on FSN Ohio, a replay of an NLCS game between Pittsburgh and Cincinnati was on. It made me think of my time in my childhood that made me a baseball fan. I was first gaining interest in Major League Baseball. I was in Cincinnati the night the Reds won the 1990 World Series in a sweep over the Oakland A’s and the Bash Brothers. I remember the next day walking around downtown and hearing people lay on their horns all day long. It was really neat.

Soon thereafter I got a baseball album of cards full of those 1990 Reds: Larkin, Sabo, Eric Davis, Mariano Duncan, Todd Benzinger, Joe Oliver, Jose Rijo, Scott Scudder, Norm Charlton, Randy Myers, Glenn Bragg. It was a magical group. They went wire-to-wire that year.

My roomate and I were talking when Barry Bonds; then 24 I believe, flashed on the screen last night. That was the golden age of baseball that we can never have back. The players, the uniforms, their body types; it made for majestic scene.

This got me excited for opening day. It might not be as good as it once was; but it’s as good once as it ever was.

For those having Hogger withdrawal

Tomorrow is the AFC and NFC championship games in that other league, the NFL. That means there are two weeks until the Superbowl.

The day after the Superbowl is played, there will be the first of the 32 Major League Baseball team previews ran here on Diamond Hoggers. The reports will be in depth, informative, humorous, and entertaining. Most of all, it’s going to be good old fashioned and classic to the root of baseball.

As always, stay tuned! 2008 is going to be a memorable season.

Four of the Greatest Words in the English Language

Pitchers and Catchers Report.

If you love baseball like I do, you’re living for this day (which is February 16th for Cincinnati). The latest from the Reds:

CINCINNATI – Two-game ticket packages for Cincinnati Reds 2008 spring training games will go on sale at 10:00 a.m. Saturday, January 19 at their spring training complex, on-line at reds.com and by phone at (877) 647-7337. Tickets for all individual games will go on sale at 9:00 a.m.
Saturday, January 26. The Reds’ spring training site will be in Sarasota,
Florida for the 11th season.

Pitchers and catchers are scheduled to report to the City of Sarasota Sports Complex on February 16, and position players are due in on February 19. An intra-squad scrimmage tentatively is scheduled for February 26 at Ed Smith Stadium.

This spring there will be seven Premium games at Sarasota’s Ed Smith Stadium, including afternoon exhibitions against the Cleveland Indians (March 4), New York Yankees (March 6, March 14), Atlanta Braves (March 8 ) and Detroit Tigers (March 17) in addition to the Reds’ home night games against the Philadelphia Phillies (March 13) and Toronto Blue Jays (March 24).

I’ve been to Spring Training games. It’s like an unsatisfyingly, slimming meal of dry chicken. You’ll take it, you’ll eat it, you might even enjoy a moment of it or two, but when it’s all said and done you’re going to be left unfulfilled and just wanting the real thing.
Still, I can’t wait to look into those spring box scores and see:
AB R H RBI
Dunn, lf 3 1 1 3

The best news in a while: Jocketty signs on with Reds

Wayne Krivsky, that warmth you feel on your ass isn’t your imagination; your seat in Cincinnati just got a little hotter. The Reds have brought marquee baseball-man Walt Jocketty aboard, another strong move in what has been a very good offseason for the Cincinnati Reds (aside from trading Josh Hamilton).

Jocketty was the architect of the mid 90’s Cardinals teams, as well as basically assembling their World Championship team of 2004. He knows how to build a winner and seemingly always found a way to bring the key player or biggest fish in the pond to his team.

Jocketty brought Mark Mcgwire to St. Louis in 1997, just one of his many crafty string of moves that fleeced another organization in the league while appearing to offer the better deal to those he was shaking hands with at the same time.

It will be interesting to see how Jocketty works with Dusty Baker, and more so, Krivsky. Krivsky has done nothing but assemble underachieving ballclubs that fall apart during different parts of the season, and hasn’t found many diamonds in the rough. I’m not a fan of Krivsky for various reasons, the main one being because I think he’s a schlum-schmuck of an individual and an unproven baseball man who is over his head. What did he ever prove in Minnesota? That he knows how to build a team that will either not make the playoffs or lose in the first round?

Give me Jocketty as the full time GM or give me death!

The 'Prog'?

Jacobs Field is no more. The greatest of all the modern day ballparks has been stripped of it’s identity. The naming rights to the stadium were purchased by Mayfield-based Progressive Corp., the nation’s third-largest auto insurer, agreeing to pay about $3.6 million per year for the next 16 years.

From now on, Jacobs Field, although always Jacobs Field to me, will be known as Progressive Field.

The one thing I always loved about the Jake was the fact that no matter how many legends and powerhouse teams filtered in and out of that stadium on the corner of Ontario and Carnegie; the stadium withstood the tests of time.

That is no more.