All posts by Matthew Callan

Baseball, Media Morons

John Sterling Broadcasts Live from Armageddon

sterling.jpgWe’re coming to you live from the Lowe’s Broadcast Booth. Lowe’s: Let’s build something…to-geth-ah!

You know, baseball’s a funny game, isn’t it? I mean, one second the Yankees are up by three runs, the next thing you know, someone’s broken the seventh seal and we’re in the middle of the Biblical Apocalypse! I tell you what Suzyn, the only thing you can predict about this game is that it’s unpredictable!

Of course, many of the fans have left the Stadium to flee for their lives. And some of
those who’ve stayed have been killed by these strange flying monsters that look sort of like a cross between a dragon, a monkey, and Goose Gossage. But the players here are all professionals, and they’re going to soldier on through this end of life as we know it. So if you’re listening at home in your fallout shelter, loading a shotgun and rationing out trail mix, keep that radio tuned right here!

Here’s the Captain, Derek Jeter, to lead off the fifth. The path to the batter’s box is now swirling with molten lava and demons’ blood, so he’ll have to watch his step. Remember, Robinson Cano slid into that deadly pool after a close play at the plate in the bottom of the second, so the Yanks’ bench is a little thin.

Remember, next Friday is Cap Day at the Stadium. All children 12 and under will receive a free Yankees hat, courtesy of Dunkin Donuts. Plenty of good seats still left, so if we all haven’t been roasted to death and if time itself hasn’t ceased to have any meaning whatsoever, come on down!

And Jeter takes…low for ball one. Now, if Jeter can go the opposite way and poke one into right, he may be able to leg out a double. The right fielder is not quick and does not have a good arm. Plus, it should be hard for him to judge the flight of the ball, now that the sky has turned a hideous shade of blackish red.

This weather report is brought to you by Con Edison. Well, I can’t tell the temperature, since the mercury in our thermometer has burst through the top and boiled away. But I would have to say it’s muggy today, even though the sun has been completely blotted out. So if you’re venturing out this afternoon, make sure to bring plenty of water, and an axe to stave off all of the zombies.

And the pitch is…swung on and missed, strike one. Jeter was looking fastball on that last pitch, but he just couldn’t catch up to it. He may have also been distracted by the vampires that have just swooped into left field, but I doubt it. Derek is the ultimate professional–he would never use bloodsucking corpse-things as an excuse.

Here’s the 1-and-1. DRILLED TO LEFT CENTER! THAT BALL IS HIGH! MM-IT IS FAR! MM-IT IS GAHN! El Capitan! Oh Captain, My Captain! The Captain and Tenille does it again! Captain Jack will get us high tonight!

Wait, hold on. I’m sorry, folks, it seems there was some confusion on the play. The center fielder is protesting that the ball was ingested by some sort of demon. He’s pointing at the beast right now as it hovers menacingly over the warning track. The demon has long, leathery wings and pointy ears. If I had to describe his eyes, I’d say they have a soulless look that just sends shivers down my spine. Boy, it’s Jeffrey Maier all over again!

I tell you what, you can’t predict this game at all, Suzyn! You just can’t!

What’s that, Suzyn? I can’t make out what you’re saying. Sounds like you’re saying “brains”. Oh, it seems Suzyn has been transformed into one of the bloodthirsty undead.

Well, to paraphrase the old musical Oklahoma, I’ve gone about as fur as I can go! While I look for a sharpened stick and pray for the protection of my immortal soul, this would be a good time for station identification on the Yankees Radio Network. This is Yankees baseball!

Baseball

Come Back Home, Bobby V, All Is Forgiven

Subway Series. Hurrah. Fun time.

I have a feeling fans of both teams are greeting this annual Media Splooge-Fest with the same amount of (non)enthusiasm that Willy Wonka displayed when Augustus Gloop fell in the river of chocolate. (“Help. Police. Murder.”) Blame it on whatever you like–injury, malaise, bad weather, allergies, the bossa nova–but neither the Mets nor the Yankees are bringing their A-game on a daily basis. Hell, at this point I’d settle for somewhere between M and Q.

I’ll say this for the Yankees, though: they actually look like they might care about the game of baseball. They’re just not very good at it right now. And though they just lost 3 out of 4, they did so on the road to the amazingly hot Tampa Bay Rays.

Contrast that with the Mets, who just lost 3 out of 4 at home to a Washington Nationals team that, against every other team in the majors, looks like the Keystone Kops via the Special Olympics. And while dropping these games, the Mets looked as if they’d rather be doing anything else than be paid millions of dollars to play a kids’ game.

Witness the series finale, in which they made Jason Bergmann–fresh off the disabled list, owner of an ugly double-digit ERA–look like Walter effin’ Johnson. Mike Pelfrey had a surprisingly strong start, giving up just one run in 7+ innings of work–and lost. The Mets put the tying run into scoring position in the eighth and ninth innings, only to see it erased both times on boneheaded running plays that had to be seen to be believed. And even if you’d witnessed these Crimes Against Baseball as they happened, you wouldn’t be able to fathom how an adult who plays baseball for a living could do something so profoundly moronic.

And just to make sure that the team would go into their most scrutinized series of the year with the maximum amount of turmoil, Billy Wagner blew up over the ninja-like qualities of some of his teammates. Country Time can always be counted on to rush to the scene of a raging fire just in time to pour gasoline on it.

To try and distract myself from this state of affairs last night, I watched a documentary I’d DVR’ed: The Zen of Bobby V, wherein three NYU film students followed ex-Mets skipper Bobby Valentine over the 2007 season, his fourth managing the Chiba Lotte Marines in the Japanese major leagues (the NPB). This didn’t really help my mood, because the movie made me nostalgic for the late 1990s/early 2000s Mets, teams that were not as talented as the current crop but certainly played with more passion.
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Adtacular, Die Die Die, Parental Guidance

Die Die Die: Dairy Queen Trains Future Lolitas

I know this will totally come across as a Won’t Somebody Please Think of the Children?! post. But if there is one point on which I agree with the Helen Lovejoy Crowd, it’s anger over the premature sexualization of little girls. It’s always bothered me, and now that I have a daughter of my own, it bothers me even more. The biggest perpetrator of this crime is, of course, Madison Avenue–although Roger Clemens has certainly done his part.

To be fair, this trend is part due to the fact girls now hit puberty at ridiculously young ages. Thanks to all the hormones we pump into the animals we eat, if you poured some milk and slapped a raw steak on a bowling bowl, it’d start growing breasts. But I also wanna say it
started with Britney Spears, ’cause hey, why not?

Way back in the late 1990s, Britney Spears made music that was squarely aimed at the Radio Disney crowd, while cultivating a persona of Slut In Training. She had all the confused sexual politics and virgin/whore complexes of a Rock Hudson/Doris Day movie, but with better production values and half the self awareness.

The creepiest part about it was, when you heard her talk at this time (and God help you if you did), she seemed blissfully unaware of the Lolita Vibes she gave off. When the subject of sex was actually broached, she sounded like Kenneth the Page from 30 Rock trying to fake-hit on Tracy Jordan’s wife. She was clearly being manipulated by a publicity machine capitalizing on the Look But Don’t Touch Appeal of an underage hottie. Not to be alarmist, but look how well that turned out for her.

Continue reading Die Die Die: Dairy Queen Trains Future Lolitas →