B.J. Upton is Half-Mays, Half-Gazelle

Five months removed from shoulder surgery, B.J. Upton returned to the Tampa Rays' lineup last night to run ruckus against the shell-shocked Yankees. In six plate appearances, Upton went 1-3, with three walks (fine, one was against Nick Swisher), two stolen bases and two runs scored. Defensively, he tracked down Xavier Nady's second-inning bomb to the deepest part of the Trop, as easily as if he were shagging fly balls during batting practice. Seriously, he made one the most impressive catches of the year--already--look downright pedestrian.  Sadly, the below screen shot doesn't do justice to Upton's freakish athleticism and gazelle-like grace. For the second-by-second replay, take a look here and click play. 


I am now officially terrified of B.J. Upton, one of the most dangerous ballplayers in Major League Baseball. Speed kills, especially slow-footed teams from New York. 

"It's Hard to Think in Laudatory Terms of the Product"

I'm still on vacation. I should be posting more regularly in the next couple of days or so. Until then, enjoy this clip of former Cubs broadcaster Harry Caray ripping into Cracker Jack and the caramel-coated criminality of the American marketplace. Or something like that. 

Why Wang Got Whacked

Because of his inconsistent release point, according to the wizards at River Avenue Blues. 

Pretty chart. But what does it mean? Mike Axisa explains:

Wowza. I used Wang’s complete game two hit job in Fenway last April as my basis of comparison (that’s a combo of both sinkers & four-seamers to make life easy), and look at the difference. His release point is off by about a foot both vertically and horizontally (FYI, the x-axis is the distance from the center of the plate, the y-axis is the distance above the ground, both in feet, each gridline represents one inch). This explains a whole lot, because it’s hard to get that sinker down with such a high release point. Now we know what the Wanger and Dave Eiland have to work on over the next four days.

Hopefully, Wang, like CC, can make the necessary adjustments to his helter-skelter delivery and inconsistent release point before his next start. Otherwise, it could be a long season for Wang and the Yankees. 

"You're F*cking Out, I'm F*cking In"

I don't have HBO, so I've never had the pleasure of watching “Eastbound & Down," a series about Kenny Powers, a washed-up, out-of-control relief pitcher who returns to his hometown of Shelby, North Carolina, to figure out where things went wrong. I've heard great things about it, particularly about its star, Danny McBride, the guy behind "The Foot Fist Way" and the only funny thing about "Tropic Thunder" and "Pinneapple Express." 

For inspiration, Powers apparently listens regularly to his own audiobook, "You're F*cking Out, I'm F*cking In," which, based solely on the below clip, is as funny and outrageous as it sounds. My personal favorite: "One time I was invited to come to a social gathering. I was paid a handsome amount of money, and I brought a shotgun and a bottle of Tanqueray and showed those people the best fucking time they've ever seen." 

And: "I’ve been blessed with many things in this life. An arm like a damn rocket, a cock like a Burmese python, and the mind of a fuckin’ scientist." 

And: "If there's one thing I hate, it's losing. If there's two things I hate, it's losing and getting cancer." 

I think you get the point. Enjoy the compilation. 

(Via Warming Glow)

Baseball, Pittsburgh Both Better with Beer

For the 2009 season , the Pittsburgh Pirates have lowered the cost of a 21-ounce beer at PNC Park to an inviting $4.75, the cheapest price in all of baseball. Coincidentally, the Pirates also feature the second-lowest average ticket price at $15.39 per game, or approximately the cost of two 12-ounce beers at Fenway Park, home of the most expensive brew--and second-highest average ticket price-- in the majors. You get what you pay for, I suppose. 

ElimiNate

Near the end of his otherwise uninteresting profile of the increasingly overhyped Nate Robinson in this week's issue of New York magazine, Mark Jacobson makes an important point about the diminutive guard and, by extension, his frontcourt running mate, David Lee, both of whom will be restricted free agents this summer: "Fact is, both Robinson and Lee are sixth men on a team of seventh and eighth men."

I couldn't have said it better myself, particularly about Nate Robinson. When Nate burst onto the scene in 2005, I cheered on his histrionics and tantalizingly inconsistent play because, well, the Knicks didn't exactly have much else going for them at the time, and I honestly thought Nate had game, a belief that hasn't really changed over the years. As the team gears up for the future, though, it's becoming increasingly clear that Nate and his game don't exactly fit into the organization's long-term plans. Sure, Nate's an explosive role player, a quick spark off the bench. But he's not a building block—at least not for this team, which has failed to win more than 35 games in any year with him on the roster. What, exactly, has Nate shown over his tenure with the Knicks to warrant a second contract, other than two meaningless Slam Dunk titles and four years of losing basketball? For all his talents and razzle-dazzle, I'm afraid Nate is simply a luxury the Knicks can no longer afford.

One Shinning Moment

An insipid, fitting end to a pretty uninspiring 2009 tournament.