First Pitches

The Scene: Post 911. Our country is still in a furor, regardless of whether the rage is aimed at the right target or not. But baseball goes on. Our fearless leader (for the sake of this article, imagine there being about a 20 second break while I run to the sink and puke) steps to the mound for a ceremonial first pitch. A strike. Down the middle. It was nearly like something out of a fairy tale. Even the staunchest democrat (like myself), who had long since come to the conclusion that our president was better served competing in the special olympics than manning the oval office, had to have been the tiniest bit smitten by the whole thing. Our country, and about 5000 of our people, were the victims of a brutal attack. And our freakin' president not only swore retribution, but threw a God damned strike. If that ain't something for the ole patriotic chip on the shoulder, then I don't know what the hell is.

Fast forward: March 30th, 2008. Nationals' Park, or whatever the hell they call that new baseball stadium in D.C. Dubya is to throw out the first pitch. Who made that call? Is there a more reviled individual in the States right now? Apparently not. The stadium seats slightly less than 42 thousand people, and about 80% of them were booing loudly as he took the mound. I can't tell you if his fastball down the middle, or his round booing made me smile more proudly.

And by the way, the Nats won on a walk-off homer by Ryan Zimmermann. Todd, who happens to have him as his 3rd baseman in our league, is probably proud. Either that, or playing City of Heros without a care at all. Speaking of which, that game is sick. Thanks for having a shot of 120proof.

Screwballs and Know Nothings

The Game: Fantasy Baseball

The Players:

Ted: Todd's father-in-law, and our commissioner. He rules his fantasy games the same way he ministers his congregation. WITH AN IRON FIST!!!

Todd: My drunken partner in crime. He knows more about baseball than your average blind, deaf, and dumb aboriginal bush child.

Bekka/Laura: Todd's wife and mother-in-law. Nearly didn't play out of protest that handsomeness was not a valid fantasy baseball category.

Shane: The shameless Angel fan. When there were no more Angels left to be drafted, he started picking former Angels. He nearly cried when Brian Downing refused to come out of retirement for his fantasy team.

Jon: Todd's cousin with an inexplicable mancrush on Steve Nash. Easily our cockiest player, but in fairness, the one with the longest track record of success in fantasy.

Alex the Clipper Fan: You know him. You love him. 120's original reader. Oh yeah, he hates baseball and only played on the hope that he would finish above Todd and me, and therefore have something to badger us about for life.

Torsten: Me.

The other three teams in our ten team draft were colleagues of Ted's, all of whom either elected to have the autopicker choose their team, or forgot due to Easter Brunch debauchery.

The scenario: Ted, Todd, Bekka, Laura, and I are crammed into Ted's home office, each of us hovering over a computer, fiercely protecting the monitor like the third grade geek who is afraid that the third grade bully might be trying to sneak a peek at the answers to the spelling test. Jon is at home, but he might as well have been there as he was the most active smack talker. Alex? Let's just say he was Sleepless in Seattle.

Events, conversations, and statements that should never, ever be uttered during a fantasy baseball draft:

1. The first overall pick went to one of Ted's autopicking colleagues. The Yahoo! autopicker took nearly 45 seconds to select A-Rod. This brought up eerie parallels to Geoff Garcia, who ran away with the fantasy basketball league after letting the autopicker choose his team, and logging in a grand total of one time during the season. What an ass...

2. Todd: Man, I was gonna take Joe Mauer.
Bekka: Well, Mom and me need a center.
Todd: Cen...ter???

3. Me: If J.J. Putz drops to me, I'm takin' him.
Todd: No way Putz gets to you.
Me: You seriously gonna rob me?
Todd: Yup, I'm Putzin' it.
Me: You're an ass.
Todd: Dude, every team needs a putz!
Ted: Not mine, my daughter already married one.
Todd: Kill...

4. Bekka: -groan-
Me: What? You wanted Aaron Harang?
Bekka: YES! He's totally cute!
Me: Then why didn't you complain when I picked Grady Sizemore? All the chicks love him.
Bekka: -rapid mouse clicking- Oh yeah, he's hot. Can I trade you someone for him?

5. Todd: YES!!! Smoltz!!!
Ted: He's good.
Todd: Whatever with good. I now have Putz AND Smoltz! Now if only Jenks and UGGLA fall to me too!

6. Laura: We don't have a CWS on our team yet.
Ted: Chicago White Sox is not a position or category. Merely the team he plays on.
Bekka: HAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That was WAY worse than me calling Joe Mauer a center!

7. Todd: I'm a little light in the stolen bases department. Who's left??? Willy Taveras...Michael Bourn... KAZ MATSUI!!! YES!!! Wait. Do you think his anal fissures will affect his speed on the bases?

8. Todd: How is Curt Schilling still available?
Me: Injured. Biceps degeneration or something like that.
Todd: Is that worse than anal fissures?
Me: Unless he pitches with his ass.

9. Jon: (via draft chat) Sorry it's taking me so long to make my pics. In addition to this, I'm watching basketball, porn, and playing Wii.

10. Todd: I'm taking Wang.
Me: There are still better pitchers on the board.
Todd: Yeah, but with Putz and Wang, I have a monopoly on players whose names are synonymous with wieners. There isn't a player named Schlong, is there?

The Post Draft: After the post-draft cocktail and a smoke, it's time to hit the road. Ted and Laura walk us all out and we immediately get ambushed by Mormon missionaries. You kinda had to be there to get the full effect, but I'll do my best. Ted, Todd's dad-in-law, is actually a minister. We weren't shitting you about that. However, he has a very understated, relaxed, almost surfer-dudish manner of speech, and Todd lacks the two-second filter of, "wait, should I really say this?"

Sister Something or Other (who incidentally has the glazed over, unblinking eyes that make it look like she came straight out of Children of the Corn): So do you all enjoy a life enriched by the influence of Christ?
Ted: Oh, totally. We are WAY into Jesus.
::about five minutes of awkward conversations::
Sister Something or Other: What would it mean to you if Noah was on the Earth today as a Prophet.
Ted: Honestly, not much. I already have a boat and...well, it has a motor and stuff.
::Three more minutes of tortuous banter::
Sister Whatshername: So would you ever be interested in having missionaries come by your home and talk to you more about the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints?
Todd: Nah. I was already in a cult once and it wasn't what I'd hoped it would be.

The 120 Proof Teams:
The Skrooballs. (me)
1B. Travis Hafner
2B. Robinson Cano
3B. David Wright
SS. JJ Hardy/Yunel Escobar
C. Geovany Soto
OF. Grady Sizemore, Hunter Pence, Josh Hamilton, Cory Hart
Util. Rick Ankiel (40 hrs or bust, baby!) Todd Helton
Bench. Ryan Garko, Billy Butler, Lastings Milledge
SP. Eric Bedard, Aaron Harang, Dice-K, Francisco Liriano
RP. Billy Wagner, Rafael Soriano, Kerry Wood, Zack Greinke.
Review: I'm pissed at how much I neglected RBIs, but hopefully Travis Hafner will have a big bounceback year. I'm also pissed because each time I wanted to take a good catcher, he was nabbed out from under me. I'm thrilled I was able to nap Ankiel, Hamilton, and Kerry Wood with my final picks. Bargains, all of them.

The Willie Mays Hayes. (Todd)
1B. Ryan Howard
2B. Brian Roberts
3B. Ryan Zimmermann
SS. Rafael Furcal
C. Victor Martinez
OF. Matt Holliday, Bobby Abreu, Jermaine Dye, Ken Griffey Jr.
Util. Frank Thomas, Carlos Delgado
Bench. Kaz Matsui, Adam Laroche, Ryan Theriot
SP. John Smoltz, Felix Hernandez, Jered Weaver, James Shields (a hidden gem), Chien Mien dick Wang
RP. JJ Putz, Chad Cordero, Jeremy Accardo
Reveiw: Not bad at all for Todd's first ever baseball draft. He's going to win homers by a landslide every week, although he'll probably take a beating in batting average. Time will only tell.

In Closing, we'll leave you with one more quote from the draft.
Bekka (to her mom): We could take Greg Zaun. He's cute.
Me: But you guys already have a center.

Thanks for having a shot of 120 Proof.

Wishes Do Come True

Nobody is happier than we are that it's been a couple weeks since anyone devoted any real time to talking about the whole Roger Clemens/Brian McNamee debacle. No "misremembering" on our parts. One thing I recall as clear as day is listening to that smug son-of-a-bitch, McNamee, defend his virtue. Seriously, this guy ranks up there with former T.O. agent, Drew Rosenhaus, on the "I really wanna punch that dude very hard" scale. Well, about a 12 pack deep and 2 hours into the "testimony", I looked at Todd and said, "Wouldn't it be great if that guy just got hit by a bus?" Todd, ever the supportive friend, responded with, "::belch:: Hell, yeah."
Apparently, he and I have been good boys, for God has smiled upon us and released vengeance in the form of a bus on Mr. Douchenamee. Fortunately, nobody on the bus was seriously injured. Unfortunately, McNamee also walked away unscathed. Looks like God might want to reconsider hiring Loki to do his dirty work.

Speaking of Gods, Lebron James has just taken over the Cleveland Cavaliers' all time scoring league. That is the 23-YEAR-OLD Lebron James who has been called a man child, high-fived by a Knicks fan on the floor at Madison Square Garden, and takes out throngs of baby seal clubbers with one swing of his manhood. Did we mention he's 23? The scoring record used to be held by Brad Daugherty, who is somewhere between 40 and 87 years old.

Less than 48 hours to go until 120 Proof makes its first annual foray into the world of fantasy baseball. Todd and I will both be drafting our own teams. If you've been keeping up with us, and judging by the throngs of advertisers knocking down our doors, you might actually have been, you'll remember Todd's admission that he knew very little about who was good to draft, save of course for the obvious big names. Then, he hits me with this the other day.

Todd: Did you know that Tom Selleck led the Yankees in ninth inning doubles in the month of August in that movie, Mr. Baseball?
Me: I vaguely remember... actually, no, I had no clue. What does that have to do with...
Todd: Just preparing for the draft.
Me: Uh, but Tom...Selleck... isn't...
Todd: Have you seen his mustache lately? He might be a five-category contributor.
Me: O...kay...

It hit me about four hours later. Todd wouldn't be using terms like "five-category contributor" if he hadn't been reading up. Judging by how fantasy basketball has gone so far, I wouldn't be shocked to finish 4 or 5 spots behind him...and his wife...and his mother-in-law.

Speaking of Todd: You thought we might have been kidding about the poems and odes to crappy Clipper point guards, right? Unfortunately for you, we weren't. Here's his latest work, in tribute to Daniel Ewing, he of the 2 second playoff appearance, which was just long enough for him to leave Raja Bell open to ruin the Clippers' playoff run in '06.

There once was a guard from Nantucket.
Who couldn't put a ball in a bucket.
People would stare,
As he got nothing but air,
But he'd shrug and continue to huck it.

That's Pulitzer quality shit right there, people. Maya Angelou just came a little. Thanks for having a shot of 120 Proof.

Nuts in a Bunch

By now, you've probably all heard about poor Chicago Cubs outfielder Felix Pie (pee-AY), and his battle with a twisted testicle.  Nope, we're not talking about an evil family jewel.  We're talking about a gonad resembling a Twizzler.  And yes, this is a recognized malady, officially known as testicular torsion. And furthermore, it did require what Cubs spokespeople called a "minor corrective surgery."  120 is happy to report that Pie is recovering well, and should be back in the Cubs' lineup next week, although he's probably getting tired of people opening their peeAY-holes about it.

Our Take:  Minor surgery?  On a nut???  First of all, anything involving something as sharp as a scalpel being in close proximity to the jewel pouch is far from minor.  Especially if the condition, if untreated, can cause chronic cock n' balls pain, gangrene (of the dick!!!!???), and vanishing testis (holy SHIT!!!), not to mention a lifetime of ignominy in the form of taunts from friends and family.  Minor... yeah, you're ASS it's minor. 

Our Take, Part 2:  If this happened to any of us, God forbid, we'd lie to our friends about it.  I mean, wouldn't we?  Hey, Phil!  Wanna go play some golf?  Sorry, Jack. I twisted a testicle the other day.  Takin' it easy for a bit.  Hell no, people!  It would definitely be something more like, Sorry, Jack.  Strained a muscle the other day.  I better keep it chill for a few days.So why on Earth did the Cubs out Pie like that?  If we were him, we'd be pretty pissed.  They should have published his injury as a "lower body anomaly" or something vague like that.  What jerks!

Thank you sir, may I have another!?:  Not to be outdone in the effed up injury department, Houston Astros infielder Kazuo Matsui might miss the opening to season due to unnatural tears (gulp) in the anal skin, aka, anal fissures. After rest failed to promote recovery, Matsui will have surgery to correct the problem next week. "It's something we need to take care of," said Astros GM, Ed Wade.

Our Take: No shit, Sherlock. If I had fissures in my anus, other than the one God intended to be there, I'd want to get it taken care of too. On a funny note, wikipedia lists Carmex lip ointment/herpes balm as one of the topical treatment options. Which begs the question, why isn't "anal fissures" listed right there on the Carmax tube with all the other things it treats? I think it would fit nicely right next to "dry, chapped lips." Carmex. Your number one, over the counter treatement for cold sores, chapped lips, and ruptured asshole skin. I should be in advertising...

Hard Times on the Hard Court: Earlier this week, the Los Angeles Clippers announced the signing of point guard Smush Parker, who had been waived by the Heat. Todd has a theory that the Clippers are playing some joke on the basketball world by trying to have every crappy point guard in the World on their roster at least once. Rick Brunson, Jason Hart, Dan Dickau, and now Smush? Watch out, Clipper fans! The Sonics released Ira Newble!!!

Anyway, Todd morosely told me he was considering writing a small compilation of haikus and poems as an ode to the legacy of shitty Clipper guards. I think this is a great idea. I'll start.

Roses are red. Violets are blue. Dan Dickau sucks. So does Smush Parkeroo. Thanks for having a shot of 120 Proof.

Love Is Complicated

People claim to be "lovers" of all kinds of things; Sports, alcohol, children, collectibles of all sorts. Even animals. Well, if Tripp Isenhour is to believed, his intentional braining of a migratory hawk with a golf ball was out of love. He is, after all, a self-proclaimed animal lover. Todd and I would like to take this opportunity to address the wife and girlfriend, kindly refrain from using love as a motivator the next time the urge to emasculate us with a prison shank arises.

In one of our drunken brainstorming sessions, we at 120 decided that perpetual failure would be one of our calling cards. So we figured, what better way to do that than join a fantasy baseball league!? The conversation went something like this.

Todd: Hey, my father in law is running a fantasy baseball league. Do you want to play?
Torsten: Hell yeah! That will be fun.
Todd: You probably have to help me a little. Baseball isn't really my forte. Aside from LaDanian Thomlinson being the top pick, I don't know much.
Torsten: Moron. L.T. first? That's BASKETBALL!

Anyway, ought to be fun. Todd and I will each be piloting our own team to effectively double our chances at miserable failure. The live draft is about three weeks from now and, as of this moment, we plan to document it here on 120 with a semi-live diary.

Back to business, we at 120 like to brag when we're right, especially since it doesn't happen all that often. But I think sufficient time as passed to respond to an email from Alex the Clipper Fan. It read something like, "Dude, the Lakers suck. Now that the Suns have Shaq, they're gonna make the Lakers their bitches!"

Sadly, no amount of me telling Alex that Shaq was a fat, over-the-hill, lazy, also ran at this point in his career would convince him. Well, Alex, maybe the fact that the Suns are 3-5 since the Big Douchebag's acquisition, and have plummeted from the top spot in the West to 6th place will remove your Laker-hatred blinders. Now, the Suns still have a good chance of making the playoffs, but the Western Conference is stacked. But if they don't, going from tops in the conference to missing the post-season all together would have to rank among the greatest collapses in recent memory, especially considering they will have done it to themselves.

All-Universe guard Steve Nash still thinks the Suns will be fine. He says the team still needs to "amalgamate" Shaq into their style of play. Amalgamate? On second thought, let us tell you what he really meant. I can't believe we traded one of the best players in the league for this fat slob. The Lakers get Gasol for a couple of picks, a pack of smokes, and a white-trash Barbie doll but we give up Marion for the Big Amalgamator. What...the...@#$%. But I guess, that as the leader of this team, I can't let him know how we really feel, especially since he could crush me between his thumb and forefinger. So I'll just use big words like "amalgamate."

Amalgamate? Well, if we don't know what the hell that means, there ain't no way that a guy who thought the Parthenon was a nightclub will have any idea either. Thanks for amalgamating 120proof into your day. We'll amalgamate you again soon. In the meantime, we're off to amalgamate some alcohol into our diets.