March 21, 2016 by Shannon Michael Smith
This is the final part of the Tales From Tequila Towers series as we’re back from AZ in mostly one piece and have finally removed most of the ticks that tormented us after our stint in a 1-star fleabag on Indian School Road (no Lyme Disease to report).
We’ve blathered about this, but the Dodger injuries are getting ridiculous at this point. Christ, they’re all hurt. Who’s their trainer these days, Bruce Vilanch? Bolsinger, Ethier and Seager should be fine around opening day, thankfully. Although, how Ethier manages to play in day games at all is a miracle as he supposedly throws hissy fits at the mere mention of a start in the sun (read the tawdry details in Molly Knight’s The Best Team Money Can Buy).
Zaidi and Friedman’s streak of overpaying mediocre players to break down like a 1974 Vega continues (how effective is McCarthy going to be when he finally comes back fourteen months after his injury? What about Ryu?) The smug, simpering numbers geeks of the front office are on the hot seat this year (see rascalsoftheravine’s first ever post). Fans are running out of patience for the genius’ that lost Greinke in favor of a mish-mash of mediocre. Wasn’t Kehrt great yesterday against The Friars? He only has a 40.50 ERA now after surrendering six earned runs in 1.1 innings worth of work. Maeda’s looked decent so far, but his spring training numbers are fool’s gold, who knows how he will fare in the regular season that looms ahead? Kazmir has just plain stunk, his bloated numbers (12,554.433 ERA…yes, we’re kidding, don’t you ever get tired of looking at stupid stats?) have set off alarm bells amongst the blue crew faithful. Right now, the only solid is Kershaw. That’s it.
Did you hear that game on Friday against Arizona? You couldn’t see it because SportsNet LA is doling out these Spring Training games like precious Soylent Green…I guess the cash-strapped (?) owners need to cut corners where they can. If you haven’t noticed, The Diamondback’s bush-league bozo broadcasters take every opportunity to dig at the diamond Dogs. Pathetic. The rust-colored (gross) protectors of their precious pool actually think they’re on L.A.’s radar. The Diamondbacks are not a rival of The Dodgers, and never will be. They are a lowly expansion team that changes their uniforms faster than Clark Kent in a phone booth. Remember when their teal and purple butts were in the American League? They got lucky in 2001. Big deal. They’ve touted that piddling victory for nearly fifteen years. So step off, Snakes…back to your hole in the ground in that nuclear test site you call a state.
Finally, we’ve received a lot of requests to weigh in on the Adam LaRoche kiddie debacle in Chicago. He’s the man of steel that retired when the front office told his teen to beat it out of the player’s locker room. Hey LaRoche, you’re an employee of the White Sox, leave your rug rats at home and play freaking baseball (they are paying you millions to do this). These whining, wimpy millennials will want their grandmas holding their hands before game time soon. We just can’t believe how soft players have gotten. Goose Gossage needs to take a trip to Chicago to kick them all individually in the nuts.
Hmmmm…this could be the start of a new segment here at rascalsoftheravine! We’ll call it Where’s Goose? Anytime we hear about mollycoddled millennial players moaning…you’ll read about it here! We’ll offer what might be Goose’s take on the matter, so stay tuned fellow rascals!