Thanks for coming to see me, Pete. I’m just gonna lay it out on the line with you: I’m not gonna be commissioner forever, and I wanna make sure the only legacies I leave aren’t steroids and All Star Game ties. So I’m giving some serious consideration to lifting your lifetime ban. 
*pfft* About time. You still owe me for killing Bart Giamatti.But first, I’ll need you to issue a formal public apology for betting on baseball.No can do, chief. Pete Rose don’t roll that way. I’m like Fonz–I physically can not say I’m sorry!Even though you just said it.That was just a hypothetical ‘sorry’. And so was that one. I can’t say it and mean it.How about a half-assed, sarcastic apology?That won’t do, either. Pete Rose is unfamiliar with sarcasm, irony, or any form of self awareness.
Continue reading The Pete Rose/Bud Selig Conference
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Chris “Mad Dog” Russo: The Gold Medal Winner in My Schadenfreude Olympics
Last Friday, my brother and I were chatting about Chris “Mad Dog” Russo, the former radio partner of Mike Francesa on WFAN. The two of them pretty much invented modern sports talk radio (for good or ill). Then, last year, he left WFAN to start his own channel on Sirius XM and fell off the face of the earth. Except when he busted on his former partner with fellow satellite radio prisoner Howard Stern during the Super Bowl, Russo has not been heard from in the mainstream sports media world since he jumped ship.
We both laughed at his hubris and short-sightedness. Because if people didn’t buy satellite radios to follow Stern, why were they gonna do it to follow Mad Dog?
Then, this weekend, Deadspin alerted the public at large to an epic on-air meltdown Mad Dog had on his show last Thursday (which, like everything else Mad Dog’s done in the last year, would have otherwise gone unnoticed). Deadspin pretty much covered the whole thing, and there’s no real need for me to rehash the incident, other than to just pile on. So let’s pile on, shall we?
Continue reading Chris “Mad Dog” Russo: The Gold Medal Winner in My Schadenfreude Olympics
Tommy Lasorda Takes His Ball and Goes Home
Baseball is America’s game! It doesn’t belong to the Italians or the Cubans or the Koreans or the Japanese. Especially not the Japanese! The very thought of them playing our game makes me sick to my stomach!
And the Dutch! God, I hate the Dutch! I hate tulips! I hate land below sea level! Screw them and their stupid wooden shoes! Those guys wear wooden shoes, right?
I feel so strongly about this, I’m gonna use my time machine. Oh yeah, I have a time machine. You get a free time machine whenever you’re inducted into the Hall of Fame.
You know who invented it? Don Drysdale. Not only are Dodgers the best team in the world, but they’ve broken the time/space continuum!
Anyway, I’m gonna use my time machine and get ridda every player I ever had who wasn’t American. Fernando Valenzuela, get lost! I know you won me a World Series in 1981, but I don’t care. Get American or get off my team!
Davey Lopes, cornerstone of my infield for a decade: hit the road! I don’t care if you were born in Rhode Island. That’s a foreign name, pal! I ain’t taking any chances!
Same goes for Ron Cey. That name sounds a little too Chinese for my liking. People used to call you The Penguin–penguins ain’t American, either. Get outta my sight!
Steve Garvey–probably American. But he went to play for the Padres, which is a Spanish word. Good enough for me! Scram, ya commie!
Once I get rid of all these un-American types, I’ll win even more World Series! Cuz my lineups won’t be polluted by these stupid foreign types! Those guys should stick to their own sports like soccer or bocce or whatever the hell it is those people play!
Then, I’ll go back to 1972 and warn Nixon about Watergate, and beat Woodward and Bernstein with a tire iron. No one takes down my favorite president! Nixon will be so grateful he’ll finally grant me my greatest wish: to see America’s official flower changed to fettuccine.
Then, I’ll go back to 1955 and make Jayne Mansfield fall in love with me. How? I have my ways. Most of them involve pasta.
Then, I’ll go back to 1933 and kill Hitler! But not before I find out where he hid the Ark of the Covenant!
Then, I’ll probably take a nap. Other than the time machine, sleep is the best way to escape this horrible, horrible modern world!