But you're not on The List...

Sometimes baseball is pretty amazing. Some will tell you that the 162 game season is ludicrously long. I might be convinced to agree with those who feel that way. But one of the greatest things about the baseball season is the fluctuations that are visible from time to time that make this game fun to watch. The Baseball Gods decide that they enjoy the weather in your town, they come in for a homestand, enjoy some sunshine and some scenery and they decide to hang out and throw a bit of a party.

Fortunately for us, a few weeks ago they chose San Diego. And the party has been in full swing for some time. The Lords of Win were having a regular dance party, keg swilling, full open bar in Vegas type debaucherous party right here in our town. The gold was flying, the girls were plentiful, and the times were good. Picture if you will something like the Playboy Mansion (only here). Out back where the Maxim sponsored open bars are scattered poolside near the Playmate of the Year selection stage, Hugh is out there ready to introduce the Black Eyed Peas as the entertainment for the evening for the guests of honor, the Lords of all things Padre. And the Lords are going to enjoy the show, and wins will be raining down from the pockets of the partygoers...

The party goes on and on. The bands are crankin the drinks are flowin the wins keep coming. A good time is being had by all, a great time. Things are happening that you never thought possible, everytime you think you'd seen it all, the little guy in the corner is talking up some lingerie model who is making obsence gestures with her hands, and your buddy's face is going to split like a grapefruit hitting the concrete any second if his smile gets any bigger. Anything is possible...

And the party goes on. It's getting late now, and more drinks are being spilled than consumed. Holy Lord of Baseball togas are getting soaked and stained with lipstick, jaeger, and the smell of beer soaked carpet, cigarrettes and stripper smelly juice dominates the party. People are short stepping to the bar to refill their whiskey, and the hot Maxim chick that pours drinks has her jacket on and is shivering. As she pours your drink you start to see things a bit fuzzy, calls start going your way, ugly things are starting to happen. The playmates look like they were in the magazine when you were in sixth grade. Your buddy in the corner has long since lost the lingerie model and is busy chatting up some b-list actress's little sister who looks like she cancelled her gym membership about a year's worth of parties ago. People are starting to get hurt and the Lords are starting to think about a toilet and a bed...

Now before everyone starts to leave they make one more pass by the jacuzzi area just to see if there are any stragglers that may still want to try to party on through this lull. Suddenly things begin to seem so much clearer. The fog lifts a bit and the crew realizes that this is in fact a good thing. Time for bed, avoid all of what is left in the room, nothing good is going to happen if this thing goes on any longer. Nobody wants to have to perform the coyote when this thing wears off, the headaches and nausea are going to have their way with the Lords...This is a good thing...

By the time the Lords awake and feel refreshed, August weather in San Diego should be very nice. The town should be ready to welcome the Gods from their slumber and start to show them a good time again. And believe me when I say, they will be ready to go. Right through September, making it look like the freshman dorm at your alma mater. October brings the big time, the Party will be a blowout, it'll make this first go round seem like a birthday party at the Chuck E. Cheese for five year old twins. And thats exactly when it needs to happen.

I have enjoyed the first festival that the Gods have had in our town for our guys. And if they need a bit of a recharged battery right about now, that's absolutely okay with me. But, I will be setting the alarm for August 15th, and they get one round of snooze.

Then we'll tap the kegs again. I'll run the tap...

You're Half Right.

I couldn't agree with you more on Congress. Last time I checked, this great country of ours was founded with the seperation of Sports and State in mind. Unfortunately (Devil's advocate, here), baseball has shown an uncanny ability to solve nothing on their own over the years. Too bad. Headache after headache after headache.

But Barry Bonds will eventually hobble his way out to the plate, I.V. or no I.V., and get his damn home run record, asterisk and all. Whether it be while occupying a reclining chair in right field at Frisco, or somewhere in the AL, he's gone too far, cheated too much, and put up with way too much scrutiny to throw it in now.

On to other things...

Thank goodness that annoying Mary Kay chick Tana didn't win the Apprentice. That woman's a psycho. By the way, it never ceases to amaze me when these contestants are constantly cutting the Donald off mid sentence. I don't know if you want to mess with that kind of ego.

Season finale of ER...meh. A lot less emotionally gripping than I'd expected. Carter's exit was almost like a sidebar. I liked the idea of him setting up the new recruits, except that these people have been on the show so long that it didn't really resonnate. Linda Cardellini's kid is just plain annoying (kids always ruin drama). Come to think of it, as much as I have a mad crush on her, Cardellini's entire storyline kind of blows. Luca has gone from being calm, cool and reserved to being over-the-top bland (Although I must admit the short speech he gave at Carter's farewell was probably the best "moment" of the episode. All in all, I give this one a thumb sideways. Probably should have had a helicopter crash into that deck. That's always good television.

On to annoying things...

My pitching is hurt, and I have way too many 1st basemen. My grip on second is tennuous at best. Maximum Colossus Extreme needs to step it up or this fantasy baseball season could slip away. But they are playing really good at home.

On to the most important things...

Tonight our Padres begin a road series against the hated Seattle Mariners. With the extraordinary Jake Peavy on the mound, coupled with the fact that we are facing our most hated of American League rivals, I think it's safe to say that the mighty Friars should pick up on this road trip, right where they left off on the home stand. Unbridled enthusiasm is the new cat tranquilizer. Go Padres!!!!!

It Just Gets Better And Better.

Sweep-sweep. Bye-bye Florida. Bye-bye Atlanta. The Padres just put away game three against the Braves to extend their exemplory play as of late. Another solid outing from Adam Eaton, coupled with an offensive flurry from Khalil Greene (2-4, 2 HR, 6 RBI) and topped off with another save by Trevor Hoffman, spells hottest team in baseball to me. We truly own Petco now. Time to keep it up on the road boys. Fantastic! Go Padres!!!!!

Well, I'm Gonna Talk some !@#$.

First and foremost, hats off to Darrell May, who has taken a lot of criticism from this would be sports authority. 5 solid innings last night is something to be proud of. Didn't figure in the decision, but certainly a factor in the outcome. Secondly, a big attaboy to the world's most boring Padre, Khalil Greene. Let me quantify that. Greeney is nothing short of electrifying on the field, but seriously San Diego sports media, leave this guy alone. It's torture for him and it's torture for us, okay? Let him hit the showers while you talk to Nevin or Giles or anybody else who doesn't look like they just swallowed a bug when they get on camera.

Now for the crap talk. Time to get back on my favorite subject. This country's love/hate affair with the filthy, filthy Yankees. Wow, 10 in a row! That definitely qualifies them for top billing in every major newspaper and on all the big sports web sites. No disputing that...Unless, you look a little closer and notice that all of those wins have come against a grand total of two-count them, two-teams. And what two American League powerhouses have the Yankees chosen to smite in a show of their supreme dominance? Why, the mighty Oakland Athletics and the stalwart Seattle Mariners. For those of you who don't know, those two juggernauts are locked in an epic battle to determine who doesn't suck the most in their division. It's a testament to the leadership and blue collar talent of the meager Yankees that they are able to take the fight out of such potent enemies. Seriously, though, it's too bad the Red Sox and the Cubs don't get 10 game stretches against the A's and the Mariners (Who are, by the way, the Padres arch rivals in the American League. Did you know that?). Then every sports columnist in the country could grace us with their multiple literary orgasms.

Last time I checked, the Padres went from a record of 9-13 to 24-16, facing teams like St. Louis, Arizona, Florida and Atlanta along the way. Not too shabby, but all I see on the web are the crappy AP stories. No praise. Nothing. Hell, the Dodgers still place above them on most peoples power rankings. I don't mean to be greedy for praise, but you know if this team falls back down to Earth we're going to hear about it. Oh well, screw it. I guess I wouldn't mind flying in under the radar for a little while longer.

You're making us proud and happy, Padres. Thanks. So, let's keep it up and finish off these Braves in high fashion. But beware, cause you know who's next up for their shot at the big dogs? That's right, those smarmy Mariners. Ooh, they make me so mad with their nautical theme. Just like that bastard, the Gordon's Fisherman. Smug prick! Go Padres!!!!!

Damn Yankees!

It figures, that as the Padres experience, quite possibly, their best baseball since the 1998 squad, that the Yankees-who dealt the the '98 squad their ultimate demise-would go ahead and do their best to steal our thunder. As our Padres go ahead and beat up on National League heavyweights like Florida and St. Louis, the Yanks go out and string together nine straight wins. Typical. Sadly, you and I both know that the Yankees probably know the Padres as well as Johnny Damon does, which just adds insult to injury. In my opinion, however, the Yankees might just do well to get to know us. Talk about teams on a parallel. At the beginning of the season, both teams were widely picked to represent their divisions in the post season, and then, up until a couple of weeks ago, both teams were in an utter state of confusion. Unable to score runs or get outs, fans on opposite ends of the country were sharing a common sentiment. Heads need to roll. Now comparing the Padres, who have wallowed in ineptitude for the better part of a decade, to the Yankees may be a stretch. After all, even though they were picked left and right to be a team on the come, the Friars were ultimately not expected to compete too heavily outside of their division. The Yankees were obviously expected to continue to battle Johnny Damon's boys for Most Annoying Team of the Century So Far-oh wait, I mean the American League Pennant. But wouldn't it be something? I know this team is not the '98 team. Only two of those guys remain, the magnificent Trevor Hoffman and the oh so clutch bench favorite Mark Sweeney. But wouldn't the fans and the front office love another crack at the team that denied so many of us the opportunity to see our team live at a World Series game? I had tickets to game five, people! I know it's early. I know Karmically that it is bad form to talk World Series (Especially considering some of my earlier takes on the team). Just let me dream a liitle bit. Go ahead and try it yourself, its pretty sweet.

Great game against the Braves last night (Another team that often has our number). I really like the way this Stauffer kid keeps his composure. Birth of hope, people, birth of hope. Just one word of advice for the young man. Take every pitch. Your swing is frightening.

On an unrelated note that will only mean something to a few of you: How many OMBAC members do you suppose own custom wooden softball bat companies? I mean seriously, is their such a thing as a wooden softball bat? All evidence so far points to no. Scam! Or as my cohort would say, "I call Shennanigans!"

Go Padres!!!!

I Just Want To Be First.

I'm a believer. Wow, what a weekend for the Padres. Sure, they didn't have to face the red hot Dontrell Willis, but they didn't exactly go up against a bunch of slouches, either. The first two games were definitely tight pitching match-ups, featuring a return to Cy Young type form from the inexorable Jake Peavy. Yesterday, though, I would have swore this team would fold up like Padres teams of the past and take the loss after giving up 4 in the 6th. I might never have been so wrong. What a 7th inning. 10 runs against a top tier team. You couldn't have sold me that if I had a double coupon. Way to go guys, let's keep it up against the Braves. More later. Go Padres!!!! (They earned an unprecedented 4th "!" this weekend.)

Good News. Bad News.

You say you want the good first? Okay. Tim Stauffer. A little early to call him a savior, but you have got to admire a guy who comes out awfully shaky in his first big league showing then somehow manages to make it a jewel. Wow, does this bode well for the future. Just to avoid argument, I'll say I'm sure he needed that month or so in AAA to refine his skills to the point where he could handle the bigs. That's why we started Tim "I can't come up with a nickname that adequately describes how bad this guy pitched" Redding. Maybe this Stauffer thing will finally allow me to bury that horse. Side note on this is that it kind of sucked that no one got to see this kid get his first start, cause it was at, like, 10:00 in the morning or something. Oh my God!

Now for the bad. And this isn't a rag on the team too much...but it is a little. The Padres are 1.5 games behind the D-backs and the Southern California Empire of Evil (Empire of Evil, not Evil Empire. that's the Yankees. Mine is different. Don't call me unoriginal or I will totally freak out!). On the surface, this would seem like good news. As in, we are so in it. However, though the SCEE and the Padres share a tough six game stretch, flip flopping the Braves and the Marlins, the Rattlers get the Rockies and the seriously flagging Asstros. This could get ugly as we face a Marlins squad that gives up about 3 runs a week. I can hear them now, "Are you kidding me? Not a single starter hitting .300? The MEAT of your order is batting a collective .257? Where is the hidden camera? Did I win a bet with God?" If we can hit against these guys, I promise to start to believe. But don't hold your breath. So the Snakes have a big chance to take a sizable lead. That's the bad news. And why do I blame the team and not unfortunate scheduling? Because as I've said before, we should already be 4 or 5 games out in first. Plain and simple. The planets were aligned perfectly and we let the Dodgers get hot on us. We let everybody in, and its going to be a bitch getting them out. Better start trying with earnest this week, fellas.

Quick thoughts on other shtuff...

The producers of The Amazing Race totally hosed Rob and Amber by paying off American Airlines to park that plane and let the winning couple on. Weak (Amber's hot and I always root for the hot girl. It cuts down on decision making.).

That blonde chick on the Apprentice is a retard. How do these reality TV camera whores constantly act like they have no idea they're being filmed? If that twit wins I'll...Oh, I guess I don't really care. Seriously, I only saw three episodes. Its not an addiction. BTW, I think running an Olympic committee event with real Olympic athletes would be a little harder than introducing a new video game with Fabolous. Set up!

Who didn't know Carter would end up moving to African to be with his dead baby mama? Although, I don't get it, personally, since the show has done everything it can to portray her as a fickle ball of dramatic thunder. Come to think of it, though, the writers on this show have really gone the route of portraying all the women on this show as weak or straight up nut bags. Except for the crippled lesbian, who's just a bitch. Those writers are on!

I really like the show Lost right now, but I gotta say I'm a little worried about where this whole thing is going. The way the show has built up the myriad mysteries, can the payoffs possibly live up to the hype? I hope so, but I am skeptical. Evangeline Lilly is pretty hot , though, so I'll keep watching. You know, cause I root for the hot girl.

I've slipped back into 2nd place in my fantasy league, and I've had to start shaking things up a bit. I was unfortunate enough to pick up Jamie Moyer right before he started sucking, so I have to hope he holds up until David Wells gets back. I remember Wells looking pretty good after recovering from a ridiculous injury last year. Shingo Takatsu is losing his grip on the closer's job to Dustin Hermanson, and now I have to hope that he gets me at least a save or two until Joe Borowski comes back for the Cubbies. That's assuming that Ryan Dempster doesn't lock up the save spot for them in the meantime. And, in a move that's sure to make my co-host snicker, it looks like its time to let Barry Bonds go. Figures I've never had him on my team before this. But who do I pick up? Juan Pierre? Chase Utley? Tough call.

Well, that's that. Let's hope for a great weekend of Padres baseball, and a humdinger of a block party. Go Padres!!

Let's Just Call it an Update...

Well, it seems as if the fun over here never stops. Saturday morning normally breeds a new day, a chance to see the wonderful coastlines soaked in sun and much more candy than the average eyes need to see. This Saturday saw all of the above, although at a much earlier time of day than would be considered healthy or normal. The usual attendands were spouting their ritual lines of "No Dumbshit Questions" and the like, and the 6 a.m. line was a bit slower moving this season than even I would like, we eventually made the run through the Gauntlet, got the business end of the annual beach game taken care of and followed it up with monster breakfast burritos and afternoon games of cards. Transitioning into the crew taking over part of the foosball capital and early to bed for Mom's day. Then this weekender got interesting...

It seems that we have had our first major casualty of the '05 season. It all kicked off with the inevitable shellacking of the Pads in St. Louis, but that was not to be unexpected. Most of the guys got the day off when this thing got out of control early and seeing as how the guys have it rolling right now, I couldn't have cared less that we sent this one in early. Some went out to partake in the daily games that include sand, and bikini hunting, while others tried to quell this flu like death mucus monster that had invaded our skulls.

This weekend should bring some good homestand baseballing with the fish in town. Pitching will be at a premium in our pitcher friendly park and I think there may even be some tickets in my future for a Friday night under the lights in the Gaslamp. Saturday brings Block Party fun, complete with a home base that will be more than adequately stocked with the necessary requirements and hopefully some happy sunshine will cooperate and make the clothing very optional for the bikini wearers in the crew. Good food, good fun, good coldness and good bands all within a two block radius of the homestead. All are invited and welcome... if more details are necessary, you should know how by now to get a hold of me.

Missed the game tonight, hopefully we schooled the opposing squad soundly, if not, well, there is always tomorrow...

Hey, Look! It's a Knee Ligament...

Okay. Point taken. I am sure that you have missed something here along the way down this here path of mine. I couldn’t care less what Sr. has to say about the damage that his kid is doing to poor innocent trees with feelings, nor the chunks of concrete mixing with blood and bone out there in wherever the hell it was that he tried to make nice with the earth. I was merely trying to point out the fact that this kid has gone off the rails of Ozzy’s version of a Japanese train through an apartment building.

I don’t really care what Sr. thinks, I just want someone to say, “Umm Kellen, uh yeah, your son over here could use some advice.” You’d think that pops would be grabbing Redux by the ears and drowning him in his superbike gas tank before lighting him on fire and hitting him with his belt. The kid is trying to be a professional football player for crying out loud. Somebody needs to get him to start acting like one, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be one of the Postal Brothers.

More weekend things I like:

-Bikini Clad Super Vixens
-Girls who take off their jackets
-More Tacos
-Rain Free Saturdays
-Block Parties that are 7 days away and patios that have kegs to celebrate. Yeah!!
-OTL

What A Soldier.

Truth be told, I could give a flying turd about Winslow Sr.'s take on anything. Don't get me wrong, I will always fondly remember No. 80 for the heart and gusto with which he approached being a Bolt, but that was a long time ago. In the years since then he first pulled a disappearing act, and followed that by saying that his years of playing professional football meant nothing to him. He said it was a game, and not even a special time in his life. Then, as soon as Jr. starts to make it big in college, the tune changes. He's in broadcasting and football is once again an intrinsic part of his life. I understand that he has to support his son, who is after all, "The Chosen One," but I, as a pretty damn live and die with the Chargers fan, took his prior comments as an insult to all of us who loved him all those years. So he can go around acting like he never said those things, but I will not forget. Between those comments from Sr., and Jr.'s self proclaimed nicknames and far fetched military analogies, maybe Karma (if their is such a thing) takes the form of a parking lot curb from time to time.

Football? Okay, just this once, then Tacos!

Okay, here it goes, but I am in possession of one get out of jail free card and seeing as how I managed enough self restraint on Friday not to go tackle and marginally molest at least a little bit of Ms. Kournikova, I am entitled to it. And if you don’t think so, you can go running off right around the corner and go molest yourself...

Where the hell is Papa Winslow in all of this? Figurehead of the Chargers, one of the most outspoken, intelligent and proud Chargers to ever wear the awesomeness that is Bolt. Where is he while Winslow Redux is out doing his best, er, well, worst impression of Vin Diesel hyped up on crack in his XXX motorcycle stunt club? Are you even serious with all of this? The guy goes out and signs a multi million dollar deal to play football, plays two games, breaks a limb and is out for the season. Then, he rehabs, goes to a motorcycle stunt show, leaves via wheelie to find a parking lot complete with color surveillance camera and starts doing “Super Team Extreme Bad Ass Moto Skillz Stunts” on his glorified moped. Only to crash into a curb, hit a tree, knock off his melon guard, and guarantee himself some shattered bones and a first class playa’s ride via ambulance to Casa de Emergencia. Where they build a bone and screw collection, reinflate his lung and install a baboon’s kidney to replace the one that hit a tree. Ummm, Dad? Dad? Where are you? Why aren’t you teaching your MENSA, perfect SAT son how to act like a professional? What the hell is going on here? Oh, and in the genius’ contract, it says, “NO MOTORCYCLES EVER LEST YOU GO TO HELL WITH GONORRHEA!!!” or something pretty close to that. Moron.

So, that being said, on to the Weekend List of things I like:

-Anna Kournikova
- Tacos
-Sunny days at the beach
-Pop Tart breakfast at the Beachcomber tomorrow a.m.

That’s it.

I Was All Ready To Get Bombed Last Night.

Then one of my friends pointed out ot me that, although I am a lot of things, Mexican is not one of them. So, instead I mixed me up a little Admiral Nelson (I'm pretty sure he's the guy who finally brought Captain Morgan to justice) and Coke and set about watching what I was sure would be another typical Padres foray into St. Louis. Ugly, ugly, and more ugly. How delightful it was to be utterly mistaken for the first time in my life.

Now I'm not going to get all excited, and start with the, "Oh yeah, Giles is completely back to form and will never slump again!," like the announcers. and I'm certainly not going to get all, "Finally, the Padres are ready to assert themselves as the obvious dominant presense in the NL West!" The time for that particular sentence has not only passed, but is yet to come, if at all (Do they give achievement awards for sentences that even the writer can't understand?).

What I will do, however, is give a little credit to a guy who has gotten almost none thus far this year. While I admit that I unleashed my own string of F-bombs after Sean Burroughs became the second Padres baserunner to get picked off by the freaking catcher last night, I have to tip my hat to the man for going right back out there and putting on a clinic on how to field the position of 3rd base. Here's a literary pat on the back for you, Burroughs. You earned it big time last night.

So, good game Friars! Now let's go out there and win a couple more of these big league contests so me and the boys can get all excited and annoyingly myopic again!

P.S. Off topic a bit, here, but Shaun Merriman and the Poston brothers can go eat a chode.

P.P.S. Oh, and I almost forgot! Even though not a single one of my starting pitchers has been able to register a win this week, I have managed to take control of first place in my fantasy baseball league, mostly due to some fancy batwork by the likes of guys such as Miguel Cabrera and Alfonso Soriano! Way to go not real team!

I Like Tacos...

Hey hey, happy day after cinco de Mayo. I guess that would make this seis de Mayo. In any case, it is painfully obvious that everyone in my local area is using this “holiday” as an excuse to go on a Robert Downey Jr. like four day weekend bender, as freeways are desolate and there was an abundance of “Walks of Shame” this a.m. Awesome.

Padre Talk? Okay. It’s been a good week for the guys. Last Friday’s marathon that we were able to attend was great, even though we missed the Kournikova by about one minute, and I have to say that I was weighing heavily the consequences of charging the mound and taking the girl out with a swift yet gentle tackle, hoping to brush up against something special on the way to the ground. I even had willing participants to bail me out and pay my fine, I mean come on, that is probably the closest that any of us will ever get to her. Yet, it did not happen. Dammit.

Slowly but surely the team is climbing back in to a successful position, so I think it best that I shut my rambling hole and let the game talk for me. Some guys that have been a little less than spectacular are starting to get a little more than warm, and I for one will not be the one to... I am just going to shut up now.

We did manage to make Sportscenter last night by being the first team in the ’05 season to have a triple play completed right on their heads. That was fun. I coughed up a much too loud f-drop at the gym watching it unfold. People like it when you yell out obscenities whilst they try to work out. Sue me. Your heads aren’t going to explode if you hear that kind of talk folks, get over it.

Seis de Mayo should be a good one for weekending. I am going home to grab my sombrero and eat some tacos.