Oh. My God.
My friend Mary just sent me this link:
Frenchy singing “Baby One More Time”
WARNING: It is horrifying. And yet you will not be able to turn it off.
He sounds kind of drunk/really country in parts. This is simultaneously the greatest and worst thing ever.
First Andruw ends up with Frenchy’s old brain, and now, just when I was rejoicing that Frenchy finally shaved that godawful beard he was sporting for about a week, Heap has slapped Frenchy’s old beard on his own face. Heap, WHY?! You had the lumberjack stubble thing down so well, and you’ve never made the same sort of awful facial hair mistakes that the rest of these yokels are capable of (remember the fu manchus? Heap wisely abstained from that disaster). Is this just a slump busting attempt? Is it just a “Frenchy did it so it must be cool” thing? Whatever it is, I really don’t need this right now, Heap. Gonzo is out for the season, Huddy has had two bad outings in a row, and poor Devy got sent back to the minors without a single appearance (unless you count his bit part in Thursday’s Eddie Perez comedy routine). But really I don’t blame Heap. Frenchy just needs to quit leaving his old stuff lying around.
Speaking of Heap, has anyone else noticed that he just has to get the last word in whenever there is a meeting on the mound? McDowell will come out, and Heap will stand there listening stoically, but when McDowell trots off Heap will kind of pretend to leave, then will turn back to the mound with the subtlety of a good pick-off move and start whispering frantically to the pitcher. Every time he does it, I can’t help imagining him saying, “Okay, forget everything he just said. Here’s what we’re really gonna do.”
The one bright moment of that game last night was Bobby moving up on the all-time ejections chart. Everyone must have been bitching about the ump in the dugout, because Rent was ready for a fight, very uncharacteristically. His ejection definitely hurt our offense, but I appreciated the opportunity to see Bobby thrown out yet again. The replays are the best part: I could watch Bobby saying “bullshit” in slow motion for hours.
I have actual stuff to do at work today, since I’m blowing this popsicle stand next week and heading home to Atlanta after three long years in Athens (it may be the birthplace of Heap, but this town is not for me), but I’m still going to take time out of my workday to post, because oh my God, that game! That was another, “Gee, if I’m ever actually getting murdered in here, I guess my neighbors won’t call the cops,” classic. It had me screaming pretty loud, especially for Davies’ home run. And there were plenty of other developments yesterday, too.
Obviously, Heap and Frenchy freaking out over Davies’ home run made my night, and Davies trying to act all cool about it just made Those Two hopping around him even better. Sometimes I forget that these hulking major league ballplayers are actually a year younger than me, and then they break out the antics. I love it.
But boy are they growing up fast: Scooter has joined the engagement party! I commend Scoot for waiting until the right time, and always thought it was a little — unromantic? — that the other Baby Braves got engaged within about five minutes of Frenchy popping the question to his girlfriend. I always imagined it going a little something like this . . .
Frenchy: Hey Heap, she said yes!!
Heap: Yay!
Frenchy: So, let’s go celebrate!
Heap: ‘K, just one sec.
Heap: /dials phone
Heap’s girlfriend: Hey, what’s up!
Heap: Hey babe. Just wanted to let you know — we’re getting married.
Heap’s girlfriend: Wha–what?
Heap: Yeah, Frenchy just got engaged, so, looks like it’s about that time! Just wanted to give you the heads up.
Heap’s girlfriend: Uh . . . wha . . .
Heap: Maybe we could do a double wedding!
Heap’s girlfriend: /bursts into tears
Aw, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but it’s still funny that Frenchy set the whole thing off. Now that Scooter has jumped on the bandwagon, do we have any single Braves left? Who’s going to be our eligible heartthrob?
Wait, wait, what’s this? Redman is gone, and we’re bringing up Dreamboat Devy, in all his emotionally fragile number one draft pick glory! Hopefully he’s recovered from everything we put him through in 2005 — he’s been leading the Southern AA League in saves, and looked a lot more comfortable coming out of the pen when we brought him up for the roster expansion last September. Supposedly he’s only up for a short time, until we figure out who our fifth starter is, but if I know this team, he’ll be up for good if he shows any promise out of the pen. Salty was supposed to be temporary, too, but who can resist keeping another pretty face on the roster?
Not much to say about that road trip except “wow, it sucked.” I mean, sucked like I didn’t even think we were capable of sucking. Not yet, not when I was just getting used to the idea of actually staying on pace with the Mets this season. I really wanted to go into this series at home on a high note, but I guess we’re just going to have to turn things around starting tomorrow.
Things I did like about this series:
–Smoltzy looked great, despite the pinky. That little collision with Kearns could have gone so much worse.
–Frenchy went through a little stupid spell in Washington, but he remembered whatever he learned from his Heap Tapes in Boston, and looked so smart up there. Unfortunately, as Mac suggests over at Braves Journal, Andruw seems to somehow have gotten ahold of Frenchy’s old brain. Didn’t Bobby tell Frenchy not to leave that thing lying around? Doesn’t he know Andruw’s at that age when he gets into everything?! But speaking of smart, how brilliant was Salty pinch hitting, looking at eleven pitches before walking in a run (after he missed a grand slam by about ten feet)? We really, really need another starter, but I want to keep him. Could we get a starter for Thor? I’ve always liked him, but he’s pretty much dead to me after grounding into that double play yesterday — at least for a week or so.
–I haven’t seen them all stupid-happy like they were during that monsoon win on Saturday night in awhile. The Former House Mates in particular: did anyone else notice the shot of Frenchy giving Kelly a pep talk before he went out there to try for a single to complete the cycle? And Heap pulling Kelly out of the high-five lineup to hug him just killed me. Classic Those Two — Frenchy being all, “EVEN IF YOU HIT IT TO THE WALL, STOP AT FIRST, OK?!?” and then Heap with the sympathetic encouragement when he couldn’t do it. Winning is always good, but they’re also so much funnier when they’re winning.
Though Heap can be pretty funny when we’re losing, too. Check out the latest pupil in the Chipper Jones School of Stink Eye:
Here he is all thrilled that he’s tagged out Youks at home, biting his tongue and trying not to grin. But then:
Youks hits a cheap, foul-ish homer, and BOY has Heap got the stink eye working. Nice. Chipper would be proud.
We’re up against our old friend Jorge Sosa tomorrow night. I wish I could be at the game to boo the living hell out of him. One of my greatest memories of last year was Bobby putting Sosa in late when we had a significant lead, and Sosa immediately giving up a walk. Before the batter had even made it down to first, Bobby stormed out to the mound (and we all know that Bobby isn’t normally very quick on his feet) to flagrantly chew Sosa out (this was well into the long season of bullpen mediocrity, plenty of it from Sosa himself), and poor Rent had to stand there and translate. The best part was Heap standing in the middle of all of this and looking terrified, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Sosa, Bobby and Rent like one of those cat clocks.
But anyway, we’d better absolutely annihilate Sosa tomorrow. I wonder if he and Rent still have their matching purses?
I haven’t updated in a few days (though I have been enjoying posting at Talking Chop, where my secret identity has already been revealed), so there is a lot to cover. I’ll get right down to it:
–Thanks to Leah for letting me know that LaRoche’s fan club had some adventures in Pittsburgh with the Braves this past weekend, and posted about it on their Myspace page (beware: like most Myspace pages, it will blast music at you when you click on it). Their stories mostly just make our Braves sound like the generous, classy guys that they are, and the most interesting part is their report that Willie Harris and Soriano went to a club with Orr. How in the hell is someone as cool as Raffy putting up with Orr, especially where dancing may be involved? I’m thinking he and Willie were on their way out and ran into Orr in the elevator . . . “HAY GUYS CAN I COME?!?”
–Much is being made of Mets prospect/farmhand/public relations disaster Lastings Milledge lending his vocal talents to a friend’s rap song that features, well, your basic rap lyrics. As much as I love to see the Mets embarrassed, I have to agree with this guy:
One Mets player, speaking anonymously before Tuesday night’s game at Shea, wasn’t surprised by Milledge’s lyrics. “Language like that in a rap song? Shocking!” the player said sarcastically.
–I don’t know how I never came across this article before, but I’m pretty much in love with the story about Frenchy punching Heap after he beat him at ping pong. And the idea that they play Mario Kart never gets old. But which cars do they drive?! Frenchy — Bowser, Heap . . . Koopa Troopa? Oh, and in what universe does Frenchy know the word symbiotic?? After 10,000 questions on the subject, did he pour over a dictionary for weeks, searching for the right word? Don’t even get me started on the rest of that quote.
–So, the Braves officially have a new owner. Some old rich guy. I skimmed through the article: “stays out of the limelight” . . . “delegates well” . . . “distaste for taxes” . . . but this is all I really needed to know:
If he parties with Ted, he’s alright with me.
Over the weekend, I was invited to join Martin at Talking Chop, so I’ll now be covering media-related stories over there. I’ll still post to this blog regularly, just not every day. Between the two blogs I will probably post close to every day, so you’ll hear from me one way or another. I’m really excited about contributing to Talking Chop, and thanks again to Martin for the offer!
The game this afternoon gave me a headache. I felt sorry for poor Salty — not only did they make him wear that goofy getup, he had to catch some truly awful pitching. I’m sure Heap at least had a laugh over the pink chest protector. I’m ready to send Barry back down in favor of Devine, who is leading the Southern AA League in saves. Joey has had his issues in the majors, but Barry looked absolutely lost out there. Hopefully Lerew’s problems stemmed just from having so many friends and family members attending the game and putting too much pressure on himself. If not, I guess we’ve got Cormier in the wings . . .
On to Washington. I’m definitely in the mood for a long series against the Nationals after today.
One thing I really like about baseball marketing is that it’s so incredibly uncool. As far as dorky promotions go, no other sport comes close. I think it’s because the franchises make special efforts to get kids involved in fandom, whereas in football, basketball and hockey, those fans aren’t as heavily catered to. Or maybe baseball players are just dorkier. At any rate, here are some of my favorite “there is no way that actually exists” moments in baseball marketing:
–The Heap & Frenchy Valentine. My friend found one of these in her doctor’s waiting room and gave it to me — I guess they mailed them out to the . . . fan club or something? If I was working the Braves’ PR department, you would get one of these for every holiday. Maybe even every Friday.
–Rent on Arthur. Because not only am I certain that my favorite ballplayers go grocery shopping together (duh!), I’m sure they also get pretty excited about sales on apples. I have to watch this clip from time to time, when I feel guilty over a loss because I got up to go to the kitchen right when we gave up a homer. The kid in the cartoon is not quite that psychotic, but it’s the same basic principal.
–The video of Adam LaRoche making a caesar salad. Not only does this exist, it is still featured on the Braves’ official website! Just scroll down the “All aXess” column and watch the “LaRoche tries his hand at cooking” video. You may also be interested in a video about LaRoche getting lost in the team hotel, entitled, of course: “LaRoche: First road trip to the Big Apple.”
I like the new features they have on the TBS Xtra broadcasts this year — baby pictures, lockers, who doesn’t like those? — but I’ll miss the complete randomness, and the potential for a video of Heap cooking cornbread showing up one night and leaving Skip speechless. Though, actually, I’m pretty sure Skip is banned from any and all Xtra broadcasts.
It feels good to start a long road trip in first place, especially when we’re looking ahead to the Pirates and Nationals. The Mets are going against the Brewers this weekend, with Jorge Sosa on the mound tonight. Sosa somehow beat Brandon Webb in his last outing, so with that one in a million anomaly out of the way, I’m sure he’ll return to the form we’re more familiar with. I don’t think I’ve ever checked a rival team’s schedule as obsessively as I have so far this season with the Mets — I’m really enjoying the close race, even though it keeps me extremely tense over every game. It’s just the type of season where we can’t waste a single opportunity without losing important ground.
Tonight we’re facing LaRoche for the first time. I’m not at all surprised that he’s doing absolutely nothing for the Pirates. I was never a LaRoche fan, and was very happy to see him go. His good second half last year just added to my hatred of him, somehow — he only ever seemed to do anything in those blowout games we played toward the end, when he would hit multiple homers after we’d already put up seven runs. I still feel like the season just completely died (it had been dying for awhile, but even so) when he made his executive decision to bunt at the end of that game against the Marlins. I know he was well-liked in the clubhouse and is probably a nice guy, but I just never warmed up to him, and I’m thankful as hell that Schuerholz was smart enough to unload him. The Thor/Wilson offensive hole at first is frustrating, but I still think getting Gonzo for Rochy was a delightfully wicked steal.
Now that I’ve said all of this, I’m sure LaRoche will hit a walk-off slam tonight. That’s just the kind of obnoxious bastard he is.
How worried are we about Thor, by the way? I had high hopes for him this season, but he’s just insanely impatient, and after seeing Frenchy shockingly learn how to take some pitches, I’m starting to wonder how likely we are to see another miraculous turnaround.
Who are these guys? Last year, if we were down by one in the fifth I would completely write the game off as a loss, and I was almost always right to do so. Now we can have two outs and an 0-2 count on Woodward in the bottom of the 9th, and I’ll still feel like we’ve got a chance. Last night’s Smoltz vs. Maddux game wasn’t exactly the nail-biting pitcher’s duel one might have expected, but they both looked good, and I loved seeing Smoltzie get the win. I wonder what his “surprise” for Maddux would have been, had Maddog not gotten a hit off of the first pitch he offered? I think the gag was pretty much canceled after that — maybe Smoltz later arranged to have Maddux’s hotel room bed short-sheeted to make up for it.
Browsing through baseball articles this morning, I came across this one, about the clubs’ alcohol policies following Josh Hancock’s death. It offers some cool insight into how much the various teams trust their players, and what kind of clubhouse atmosphere they have. Some of the more interesting listings:
Dry clubhouses:
–Yankees and Mets (Probably because ballplayers can’t do anything anywhere ever in New York without getting taken to task in the press — and yet, somehow David Wells played there for four years. They must have banned alcohol after he left — possibly because of him. His story about pitching a perfect game while extremely hungover has always been an inspiration to me.)
–Baltimore (The Orioles don’t even deserve beer.)
–Florida (Half their players are underage anyway.)
–Washington (Drinking and severe depression really don’t mix well.)
Beer available on tap:
–Colorado (Of course — isn’t “Tap the Rockies” printed somewhere on their jerseys?)
–Philadelphia (The team psychologist actually recommended a tap to help them deal with their fans.)
“Beer and wine available in the clubhouse”:
–Chicago White Sox (This was the only team that specifically mentioned wine. I’m having a hard time picturing A.J. Pierzynski sitting in front of his locker sipping chardonnay from a wine glass.)
So how about Atlanta? We’re listed as “beer available.” I’m sure David Wells is extremely relieved. Hopefully he’ll need quite a few of them after we’re done with him today.
Every time the media makes a big deal out of a particular match-up, I’m reminded of my sixth grade drama class. At one point during the school year we had to write and perform plays, and one group in my class titled theirs “The Big Game.” On the day of the performances, this weird, skinny kid who was in “The Big Game” group — who may or may not have had some sort of undiagnosed condition — ran around the room for about an hour saying nothing but “THE BIG GAME! THE BIG GAME!” over and over again, until the teacher completely lost it on him and told him to shut up.
This is pretty much how the press treats any especially exciting sporting event: they go into hyperactive, bug-eyed kid mode and make a lot of content-free, repetitive noise until people get annoyed. I’ve actually always been fond of hype — I know a lot of people hate it, and think that it sets you up for inevitable disappointment, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the fact that looking forward to big games is usually more fun than actually watching them. Fun in anticipation counts, too.
All of the pre-game stuff last night was centered on Smoltz vs. Maddux, which may have been good for Lerew, because he looked pretty calm out there and did a great job, despite the two homers. Since then, the AJC offers:
–An article where Maddux reminds us that he and Smoltz are “not 5 years old anymore.”
–Dave O’Brien recounting the snot story for the 190th time since it was first mentioned yesterday — I personally liked the version that was shown on the pre-game show last night best, with Chipper asking if he had to tell a “G-rated” story, and implying that most involving Maddux aren’t. What I wouldn’t give to hear the others — I’m sure he and Chip raised plenty of hell together during the Hooters years.
–A feature on the official site that is accompanied by a priceless picture of Maddux’s old hair.
So bring it on! The Big Game! I have to say, as cool as the first match-up between these two since Maddux left is (I can’t believe it’s only been four years) . . . I’m most looking forward to Smoltz’s prank. Which probably means it’ll be an extremely subtle, inside joke letdown, but hey. That’s part of the fun.
My notes from last night:
–I can’t believe, after such solid play all month, that Kelly booted a ball hit by Gilly! How embarrassing! Poor Scooter; at least we ended up winning, and he scored the tying run. And boy was he scooting around those bases on Rent’s triple.
–Salty is a hugger. It kind of cracks me up when he hugs Soriano, I guess because Raffy’s supposed to be such a hard ass.
–What was that little book Frenchy and Andruw were reading in the dugout? I turned on the TV audio and heard Joe talking about scouting reports, but it looked like a homemade birthday card with a toddler’s scrawlings across the front. I thought maybe it was a fake Padres media guide sent over by Maddux — because if anyone fell for a handwritten media guide, it would probably be Andruw and Frenchy. Well, it would probably be Frenchy. Maybe Andruw was in on the joke.
