Archives For phillies
From the department of you can’t make this shit up, here’s audio obtained by CB of Jonathan Papelbon farting on-at-around-in the general vicinity of reporters today. Our tipster tells us that Papelbon, who was irked by questions about his velocity, lifted his leg and fired in the general direction of Derrick Gunn.
Multiple sources have confirmed the flatulence. You can hear it at the 23-second mark:
It even registered a small, yet visible spike in GarageBand:
Our tipster also passes along this nugget– that Cliff Lee belched at reporters last night as he walked toward the media scrum. He told them he had just eaten some fish.
Reporters weren’t too happy with either event.
Fun times in the Phillies’ clubhouse.
The Phillies won today, 1-0. Jonathan Papelbon, who has pitched five scoreless innings since blowing a save against the Rangers during the opening series, picked up his
third fourth save of the year. After the game, however, he was predictably confrontational about the (very real) concerns over his velocity, or “velo,” as he called it, which, as we’ve discussed, has been down about 2-3 mph the last two years.
The quoticals, via Matt Lombardo of NJ.com:
“Why do you guys care about velo[city] so much, man?” Papelbon said. “Does that matter? Does that really matter? Do you really think that matters? I don’t understand that. If a ball has life on it at the plate and you’re throwing 88 miles per hour versus 98 miles per hour, it doesn’t make one damn bit of difference whether you threw 93 or 94 or 84.
“I just … I don’t get it, man. You all killed Roy [Halladay] about velo[city]. It’s not a big deal. You do your job and your ball’s coming out of your hand, it doesn’t really matter how hard you’re throwing. I mean, their pitcher over there today, how hard was he throwing? Low ’90′s? High ’80′s? Look how he pitched. He ran through our lineup the first eight innings basically, but he had life at the plate. That’s all that really matters, man. End of story.”
That’s a really dumb comment.
1) Roy Halladay retired.
2) It is a big deal, especially for a guy who relies on his overpowering fastball to be effective.
3) Late life (and location) is great, but late life on a 94 mph fastball is a lot better than late life on an 88 mph fastball. This… seems rather obvious to intellectual beings. Bill Baer of Crashburn Alley:
Jonathan Papelbon on fastballs 95+ MPH: .182/.251/.291 On fastballs 92-94 MPH: .246/.308/.379 Fastballs below 92 MPH: .286/.333/.429
— Bill Baer (@CrashburnAlley) April 17, 2014
4) ROY HALLADAY RETIRED.
And that’s the favorite headline I’ve ever written.
In a new book chronicling his years as Mr. Met, AJ Mass recounts the events of April 15, 1997, the 50th anniversary of Jackie Robinson breaking the color barrier, the day President Bill Clinton was in attendance at the Mets-Dodgers game, the day the Secret Service threatened to do what many of us may have wanted to do to Mr. Met for a long time– deliver the kill shot.
His back turned to us, the man in the dark suit extends his arm in our path, and we pause while he finishes up his conversation. He then wheels around and speaks to us in a very businesslike fashion. “Mr. Met,” he says, “here’s the deal. You do whatever it is you normally do and go about your business as usual. We won’t bother you anymore. I’ve made it clear that you no longer need to be searched at the checkpoints. Okay?”
I slowly nod my head, though not because of any mascot code of silence–no mascot worth his salt is going to be heard talking while in costume–but rather because this man exudes such an aura of authority when he speaks that I simply can’t muster up the courage to make even the slightest sound.
“Now listen to me very carefully,” he goes on, and as he continues to speak, he does something that nobody else has ever done in all my years as Mr. Met. He isn’t looking up, as everyone automatically does when talking to me. Most people, out of habit, make eye contact with the person they are talking to, even if the person appears to be a giant living baseball. I’ve gotten used to seeing people’s necks when they address me, as they crane to meet what appears to be my gaze.
But the man in the dark suit is staring directly into the recess of Mr. Met’s mouth, knowing full well that even though he isn’t able to see inside, it’s exactly where I am looking out from. It’s hard to explain how utterly creeped out I am by this. The closest thing I can compare it to is the opening scene of the movie Scream, in which Drew Barrymore’s character answers what she thinks is a harmless crank call and the strange voice on the other end innocently asks her what her name is. When she playfully asks why he wants to know, the voice says menacingly, “Because I want to know who I’m looking at!” In an instant, Drew knows she’s in a whole lot of trouble. That’s exactly the vibe I’m starting to get from the man in the dark suit. Needless to say, he has my full attention.
“We have snipers all around the stadium, just in case something were to happen,” he says. “Like I said, do whatever it is you normally do. Nobody will bother you. But approach the president, and we go for the kill shot. Are we clear?”
He pauses for a moment to let the words sink in, and it feels like he isn’t only looking into my eyes, but also into my very soul with his blank, unblinking stare. Then he says the same thing again, only a little bit slower this time, making sure I know his warning is not in any way to be misconstrued as some sort of gag. He’s dead serious, and if I don’t believe him, then I’ll be dead–seriously.
“Approach the president, and we go for the kill shot,” he repeats. “ARE–WE–CLEAR?”
Unfortunately, Mr. Met never approached the President.*
*Joking aside, I like Mr. Met. His head is a baseball! Heh! Gets me every time.
The Phillies are in mid-season form– squandering golden-streamed opportunities because they can’t hit.
In front of 23,382, Lee pitched nine innings and struck out 13 while scattering 11 hits, one walk and one run. He threw 85 of his career-high 128 pitches for strikes. He left a steaming pile of pissed excellence on the mound. He took the loss. It’s the second time in five starts, dating back to his final start of the season last year, that he struck out 13 Braves and lost 1-0.
“I felt strong on the last pitch and I felt strong on the first pitch,” Lee said. “That’s what you want to do, you want to be a guy that they’re going to let go back out there after you’ve thrown 100-plus pitches and pitch the ninth inning. That’s what I expect to do and I’m glad they allow me to do that. That’s what I work in the offseason for and prepare my body to do, so it’s not anything that’s that crazy to me.”
Love that quote. Lee and Chase Utley might be the only two baseball players on the team right now.
And indeed Lee was as strong on the last pitch as he was the first. From Brooks Baseball:
Look at the fade on his two-seam fastballs (sinkers) and changeups. A one-foot tail on those babies.
It used to be fun to write about Lee’s brilliance is melodramatic prose, to wax mythical about our favorite steed. But no longer. I don’t even think anyone cares. Did anyone watch? If there’s a two and a half hour pitchers’ duel in a freezing ballpark in April and no one is there to see it, does it really happen?
The Phils managed a whopping [breaks out calculator] three hits – all singles – against Julio Teheran, who also pitched quite well. Awesome.
It’s OK– I grew up in Delco, I can make these jokes.
Email from reader Matt:
This clown decided to stand up on the bar at McFadden’s last night, right after the back-to-back-to-back home runs, pull his hood on, and propose to his girlfriend. Then right afterwards orders 6 shots of fireball for him, his [fiancée] and [fiancée]‘s friend.
Now that’s class. Waiting until the quiet moment in the bar, after B.J. Rosenberg fat fat fatties the game away, to pop the big question. Baggy cargo shorts for maximum flexion. The hood… for God knows why. And the shots of Fireball, because that’s the way to kick off the nuptial process. Here’s to avoiding the other 50% of unions.
Commenter Delco Jorts is going to be all over this one.
Now we just need someone to instantly gram the heartbreak on Chunk’s face using the Amaro filter. Wait, done:
Being a Philly sports fan in a nutshell.
GIF via Barstool