World of B

Six sports-related links for you to read, ponder & share … or just plain old ignore. It’s your world, people. I can’t tell you what to do.

>> The story all other sites have already covered: Roger Clemens and his (alleged) 10-year relationship with white trashiest country singer Mindy McCready. Talk about a must-read. Here’s a beautiful excerpt:

Clemens was with his Red Sox teammates in a Fort Myers, Fla., bar when then-teenager McCready caught his eye. After Clemens threw a shirt with his and several teammates’ signatures onstage, an introduction was made.

The mental image of an adult, married Clemens giddily throwing a shirt on the stage of an unknown teenager like an obsessed groupie at a Tom Jones concert has made my day. Nay, week.

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>> Strib writer Joe Christensen takes a look at the present-day stats of players named in potential Johan Santana trade talks (Ellsbury, Hughes, etc) before the eventual deal with the Mets. An interesting, though admittedly premature, recap. Strangely, my favorite part of the post is the first comment: “Thanks Joe.” Way to add to the conversation, anonymous commenter!

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>> Joe Posnanski, a man universally loved by bloggers to an almost unhealthy degree, points out the hilarious stupidity of Toronto Blue Jays manager John Gibbons. For those of you averse to link-clicking: he walked Tony Pena Jr., he of the embarrassing .148/.172/.164 offensive line — worse than many NL pitchers – intentionally. As in, on purpose. As dumb as our own Ron Gardenhire can be, I’m not sure even he would make a move like this. Sorry, Blue Jays fans.

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>> HOWEVER, here is part 1 of today’s links that help explain my disdain for Gardenhire’s near-unrivaled managerial idiocy: his decision to leave a well-rested Nathan on the bench during last weekend’s extra innings affair. Please, someone, justify how this makes sense. One rule: you can’t use the overrated, nearly useless stat “save” in your argument.

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>> Part 2: After inserting a then-slumping Craig Monroe into the lineup to face A’s hurler Joe Blanton — which I thought at the time was a shrewd move considering Monroe’s 7-for-11 history against Blanton — Gardenhire admitted he had no idea about Monroe’s past success against the starter. Goddamn moron. I ask you: in what industry is “not doing research” acceptable in any form? I am honestly asking for help here. I may have an aneurysm.

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>> Part 3: this excerpt from a Jayson Stark article about Delmon Young’s contributing-to-my-impending-aneurysm lack of plate discipline:

…it’s no CIA secret that Delmon Young likes to takes his hacks. According to Bill James Online, in fact, he already has chased 50 pitches outside the strike zone this season — way more than Albert Pujols (19) and Chipper Jones (18) combined.

But Young’s new manager in Minnesota, Ron Gardenhire, told Rumblings this spring that the Twins made a conscious decision not to overemphasize plate discipline as they let Young evolve as a hitter.

“I watched Torii Hunter for like 10 years,” Gardenhire said. “You think Torii hasn’t swung? You know what? There’s nothing wrong with swinging. That’s why they give you a bat. This kid’s 22 years old. He’s got everything ahead of him. So let it fly. Learn as you go. He’ll learn the strike zone.

“To start telling a guy to just ‘take, take, take,’ sometimes that’s just not human nature. You don’t get to the big leagues, and you don’t become a big league player, by ‘take, take, take’ and get walks. Some people are paid to drive in runs. You think David Ortiz goes up there to walk? He’s paid to drive in runs. He walks because we walk him. On purpose. And that’s what’s going to happen to Delmon as he goes along, too. Right now, they know he’s going to chase a little bit, but that’s OK. I’ll take my chances with him letting it fly.”

I am not even going to start. My god. Nothing boils my blood quite like someone in position of power celebrating his or her own ignorance.

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>> I’ve praised Bill Simmons enough in this space to allow a quick gripe. I enjoy most of his columns, but I found his latest, in which he praises Rajon Rondo as if he’s Rondo’s mother, to be aggressively annoying. It read as if Simmons just got on a roll during an article’s introduction — this time being “Hey, Rondo’s been playing pretty well!” — and didn’t go back to read what he wrote, which came off as an uselessly dramatic cyber-BJ about a guy averaging about 12 points per game in the playoffs thus far. He’s been OK, Bill. Take it easy.

Not to mention…if I were Rondo reading this, I’d be less than pleased. Why? Because Simmons’ fawning makes Rondo sound as if he’s writing about a half-retarded ninth-grader who’s just happy to be playing with the big boys, and not a super-talented NBA point guard. Check it:

My father read a story about Rondo watching last Saturday’s playoff games at Allen’s house and critiquing the point guards with him. Let’s say Seattle never traded Allen and the Celtics were coming off another 24-58 season. What do you think Rondo would have done Saturday? Would he have been planted in front of a plasma studying those games, or would he have been headed to the Bahamas or Vegas with some buddies? Think of young NBA players like “only-children” and it makes more sense — yeah, you can turn out fine when you’re an “only-child,” but it’s much easier if you have three older brothers giving you advice, looking out for you, molding you and believing in you.

If I’m Rondo and my friends are heading to the Bahamas, pretty sure I’m going. I mean, we can presume he’s got DV-R, right, and can catch up on game film when he returns? How would hanging out at a teammate’s house when they’re out of the playoffs help his team’s chances of winning the following season? Seems like a stretch to me; one of these erroneous “these guys are winning because of chemistry” premises that knee-jerkedly cause my eyes to roll. Another dumb excerpt that I’ll include even though I’m guessing no one on the planet is still reading at this point:

Rondo kept getting better and better through the winter, and there was a pivotal moment in March when Rafer Alston got physical with him on the opening tip and Rondo belted him back, then defiantly stood his ground, ready to trade punches in a nationally televised road game. Watching from home, I remember thinking, “He made it! He’s all grown up!”

HE’S NOT A CHILD, Bill. He improved a bit this year because of the natural progression of an NBAer and the fact that his teammates are remarkably talented. Not because his bigger, older teammates “took him under his wing” and “believed in him.” Am I reading about an actual NBA basketball player, or a Disney movie pitch? And, just to bring it on home:

Rajon was doing as much woofing, glaring and posing as everyone else. After one of the 47 times when two Celtics tag-teamed a Hawk (in this case, Horford) for a hard foul, right as Horford was stumbling away and rubbing his head, he made the mistake of nearly walking into Rondo and took an elbow for his troubles, followed by Rondo whirling around and staring him down. Who knew? I thought Rondo might make it through an entire career without uttering a word — now he’s strutting around like Clint Eastwood.

Wait — he stared at a guy? Ooooooooh. Newsworthy. For a second there, I thought this was a maudlin puff piece about a basketball player who had one good game but still isn’t great, but now, never mind. He’s strutting around — that’s the shit that wins championships.

Sarcasm aside, my point is I’m continually annoyed when sportswriters choose not to write about the results of the games or actual play, but rather trivial pet theories like “chemistry” and “belief” and “wanting it more” and the like that make for nice stories but are, on the whole, lazy, media-created conjecture.