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Posts Tagged ‘Guest Post!’

Posted by Larry FN Bowa at 5:08 pm ET 51 Comments

Hello, Philly. I’d rather have my balls waxed with a Yankee fucking Candle and 700-grit sandpaper by fucking Dallas Green than do this, but a guy needs to make a fucking living and Matt Macchio here offered me some decent scratch and 50 Cambodian greenies to do this preview, so fuck it.

Let’s start by saying this: These two teams are here by default. The National League this season looked like the fucking volunteer table at a breast cancer walk. The fucking joke of a team I coached should’ve sold its titty milk to San Fernando Valley soccer moms. The Phillies were a fucking physical wreck all season and no one could catch them. Katy Perry’s rack hits her in the face when she jogs with more consistency than the fucking Giants do. Aubrey Fucking Huff is your offensive leader? Jesus H Christ.

So, who will win the series you ask? Well, I’m going with the Phillies in 6. Why? Because I called J-Roll the other night and fucking ripped him a new asshole for turning into Ivan DeJesus this year. I could tell he needed a fucking pep talk, and I delivered it. So if he has a sliver of fucking balls left in his heart, he’s going to put aside this pansy-ass sore leg bullshit and show the fuck up. And when he’s swinging his cock around like Brett Favre in front of his Droid, that team can’t be beat.

The pitching you ask? What the fuck do you want me to say? That if I had Halladay, Hamels and Oswalt I would’ve won 120 games and had so many fucking World Series rings that I’d have had one fitted for my cock by now? Because I would have. The Giants have some quality guys, including that fucking pothead. But come on. We started Vicente Padilla on Opening Day, and the Padres were trying to win in September with the Flyin’ Fucking Hairston brothers clogging the clubhouse shower with their twat hairs. Please, assholes.

Anyway, I’m thinking about taking a managerial gig in Japan next year. Ichiro used to call me Hetakuso, which I think means Baseball Master in Japanese. Fuck this noise. At least I know Padilla can’t fucking follow me there. He and Wheels are fucking banned after they took that winter trip there with lollipops and Little Boy Blue costumes.

Posted by at 9:12 am ET 195 Comments

(The following story was sent in by a reader of The Fightins named Mike Francis. Mike was in Miami this week with some buddies to catch a Phils game and wound up in jail. Below he’ll tell you how it all went down.)

My name is Mike Francis. 16 hours ago I was just getting out of Miami-Dade jail. I didn’t start my evening in jail, I started it with some friends on a road trip to see the Phils finish off a sweep of the Marlins.

Everything was going great. We tailgated, cooked and played lot games as a Philly fan does. We took our first row tickets in the fish tank and headed inside the stadium with the signs we stayed up all night making. I’m from Philly but I live in Flordia now, so I go to every game in Florida (Fish or Rays) that I can. Point being, I’ve been to some empty games. Roy Halladay’s perfect game, the first time the best pitcher in baseball pitches in Florida, barely 24k on a Saturday. But this most recent series had terrible attendance. Wednesday they claimed 18,158 tickets sold, but if you watched the game, you know they were lucky if 3,000 showed up. But we were there! Well, myself specifically.

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Posted by ZWR at 1:30 pm ET 74 Comments

In light of Nyjer Morgan’s newfound controversial overnight internet fame, and the loss of their Strasboner cash cow, the Natinals have decided to introduce a couple new ballpark promotions in September.

Due to my well-heeled inside-the-beltway connections, I was able to get a sneak peek at the new swag.

New bobblehead:


Also–and frankly I find this rather distasteful–word has it that Morgan is set to launch his music career with the release of the following EP, which will be given away at an upcoming game.

And aww yeah, I wanna feel guilty
but you punk motherf**kers tried to milk me
You’ll get smacked up on the hill with my phone on my pager
It’s beepin while I cut you with my razor


If you have no idea what I’m referencing with the above, watch this epic brawl between the Marlins and Nyjer Morgan. Specifically, watch for Gaby Sanchez off the top rope. NOBODY, I repeat NOBODY, puts Gaby in a corner.

(Also seen on ZooWithRoy)

Posted by Larry FN Bowa at 9:09 am ET 59 Comments

Well, well, well. What in the hell is this thing? I’m no Internet expert, but I’ve seen enough rough-sex porn sites to know when I’m seeing a Web page that hasn’t upgraded since 2004.

Anyway, this is your good friend LarryFNBowa, taking a break from misting umpires with my spittle to do a midseason report card. I’d like to thank this Meach guy for sending me the stack of free passes to Show & Tel and for arranging a fuck fest with that @ZooWithRoy chick. Any woman who wants to go balls-deep on Halladay in the lion’s den has to be a freaky fucking broad.

Let’s get something out of the way: If you’re a kid, get the fuck out of here. This is for adults. And if you’re an adult who is offended by “bad words,” you should leave too. There is going to be the use of a lot of bad words. Want an example? Cunt. I’m going to use cunt several times. Did that send you reaching for the Bible? Then go put on the 700 Club and jerk off to the thought of your preacher, OK?

So, unlike my friend Jayson Stark, this isn’t going to be some attempt to jack off as many guys as possible in one column. I mean, I like Jayson and everything, even if his shaving that cum mop of a mustache he had was the worst fucking idea ever,but Sigh Young? Eat shit.

Anyway, let’s do this.

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Posted by at 12:43 pm ET 37 Comments

The Fightins commenter Heathcliff Slocumb was in Camden for Father’s Day a couple weeks ago (I know, I started to feel bad too) to catch a nice Riversharks vs. Bluefish game. Little did he know, he was stumbling into a game that would feature legendary 6-fingered reliever, and one of my blogging muses, THEE Antonio Alfonseca. Heathcliff knows how much I like the guy, so he sent in his report. Here it is, enjoy:

I decided to treat my dad and grandfather to a ballgame for Father’s Day. For a change of pace (read “easier on my wallet”), I set us up with tickets to the highly anticipated showdown between the Camden Riversharks and the Bridgeport Bluefish at Campbell’s Field. One of the great elements of seeing game across the Delaware is that it’s so easy to score sweet, sweet seats. I snagged us a set in row 1 at the very end of the third baseline, which also happened to be right next to the Bluefish bullpen bench. During warmups, an apparition emerged from the visitor’s dugout and strolled down the baseline. I recognized the figured, but turned to my sister to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating in the ridiculous mid-June heat — “Is that Alfonseca?” I asked. There was really no doubt in my mind that I was in the presence one of the most mythical figures ever to take the mound in red pinstripes. See photographic proof:

(Notice finger #6 on the left hand. Also note that the dude on the end of the bench has his nails painted)

During warmups and throughout the game, Antonio could be heard making all kinds of funny comments and would occasionally pop out of the dugout and throw a ball toward the bullpen bench when the players weren’t paying attention. My favorite comment probably came in the bottom of the 9th and the Sharks down 6-0. With two out and a 2-2 count on the batter, the ump called a close pitch for ball 3, when double-A shouted, “C’mon man! It’s too hot for that! Let’s go home..”

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Posted by beelove at 2:49 pm ET 178 Comments

Dear Ruben,

By and large I am happy with the decisions you have made. Trading Cliff Lee, as you’ve said, seemed like the only way the acquisition of Harry Leroy Halladay III was possible. A perfect game is all the proof the detractors need, to say nothing of the consistency we expected and he’s delivered. Placido Polanco was a shrewd move, and he’s certainly proven the Chone Figgins camp wrong. Jose Contreras for $1.5M? Brilliant.

But look at this team right now. The monthlong funk is marching into the Interleague portion of the season which the Phillies always dread. Things seem really tense, Charlie seems uncharacteristically troubled, and the team is mired in second place with only the occasional sign of life. Something has to give, and that something is probably Greg Dobbs. But the point is this:

Domonic Brown deserves to be on the Philadelphia Phillies right now. I don’t want to hear a thing about his service time and team management’s contractual policies. In the face of this slump, that is nonsense. Call up Domonic Brown, and now.

Look around the National League — it is a rookie feeding frenzy. Right here in our own National League East, Jason Heyward has become a contributing insta-star in Atlanta. In the past week alone in New York, Ike Davis hit a walk-off homerun, and Jonathon Niese pitched a complete game, one hit shutout. The Marlins? Maybe you caught that 6’5″ fella in rightfield the last few days, the guy who had three hits in his MLB debut, right here in South Philly. What’s that other team in the division? The Expos? I believe I heard something about an impressive rookie in Washington.

Jason Heyward will not be of legal drinking age until August 9th, yet he has become a star in his hometown. If memory serves, he greeted his first chance against his division rival Phillies with a two-out, ninth inning homerun to tie the game.

Ike Davis is 23 years old. I thought the Mets were foolish to not re-sign Carlos Delgado, but after Tuesday, it’s going to be hard to ignore this guy. Jonathan Niese is also 23, and he’s already solidified himself in a five-man rotation in Queens.

Mike Stanton is 20 years old. He had more homeruns (21) than his age already this season when the Marlins called him up this week.

Stephen Strasburg? He’ll be 22 on July 20th. He’s going to be making plenty of visits to Citizens Bank Park — starting in August. And he’s also important enough that the Phillies’ scheduled national broadcast on Sunday against the Red Sox has been bumped; TBS deems Strasburg’s start in the otherwise highly sought after Nationals-Indians ticket takes favor over a matchup featuring two of the last three World Series champions.

And for what it’s worth, Mike Leake is 5-0 with a 2.68 ERA in Cincinnati. He’s 22. If it wasn’t for Ubaldo Jimenez, Cardinals rookie Jaime Garcia would be leading the National League with his 1.47 ERA. He’s 23.

There is a youth movement assailing baseball’s gentry. With the team struggling so mightily, especially from lefthanders off the bench (Dobbs? Schneider? ugh), there is no reason whatsoever the Phillies should not get in on the action.

Domonic Brown will be 23 in September. Raul Ibañez is 38 and has $23M left on his contract. There have been more than a few recent reminders that Jayson Werth is a free agent to be. They could both use a couple days off — and maybe a little fire under their asses. Chase Utley and Ryan Howard were stuck behind Placido Polanco and Jim Thome, and I think we can agree they’ve proven themselves worthy of replacing their predecessors. But they also each got a late start.

Why not let Domonic Brown do his thing now? He was the one blue chip you would not part with. He’s already older than Heyward, Stanton and Strasburg. Let him prove you right.

This team needs an injection, something to rally and get excited around. The fans are getting restless, too. And you know as well as I do that Reading is not where Domonic Brown belongs. Nor Allentown.

Every single other team in the division has a star rookie in the making. Why can’t us? The season is practically already sold out — give the fans something else to look forward to, a little positive boost in this streak of ugliness. Think of the jersey and t-shirt sales. Think of the left handed bat off the bench not named Dobbs and Schneider. Think of the run production. And the excitement. And the buzz.

Come on, Rube. The time is now. Call up Domonic Brown.

Posted by beelove at 8:23 pm ET 31 Comments

PLEASE NOTE: This post has very little to do with the Phillies, but as it’s an off day, and we all have our memories of this dude who just retired, I thought I’d share some thoughts from the Pacific Northwest.

June 2nd, 2010. Ken Griffey Jr has finally reached the sunset he’s been riding into for the last ten years. And wouldn’t you know it? After a career in which there was always something grabbing just a little more headline than him, his retirement from the game in which he was so loved was second-tier news, after umpire Jim Joyce blew (and later apologized for) a call that cost Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga his perfect game. Poor Junior.

The last time he passed through Citizens Bank Park, in June 2008 with the Cincinnati Reds, he was sitting on 599 homers. In the four game series against the Phillies, he had one hit, a double, in six at bats. No big milestone for Junior in South Philly — he got #600 the next series out in Florida.

Despite the fact it’s been over a decade since he was at the top of his game — he was at the top of the game — it’s hard to not be just a little nostalgic. Griffey is only 40 — his former teammate Jamie Moyer is seven years his senior and still takes the mound every five days for the Phillies — but his retirement has been long coming. Many fans, not least the popular blog, were surprised the Mariners brought him back for the 2010 season. His return to Seattle last year was triumphant insofar as it brought fans back to the stadium the Mariners built for him, as the team struggled out of the basement they occupied the year before. He only hit .214, but he did collect 19 homeruns. When his teammates carried him off the field after the final game of the 2009 season, it seemed like the end of an era.

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Posted by at 1:36 pm ET 54 Comments

Saturday night in Miami, Roy Halladay threw the 20th perfect game in Major League Baseball history. Unlike those of us, like me, who just bought commemorative tickets to the game and will lie to people and say they were there that night, The Fightins reader C.Lou was there. The following is his account from the game.


Sometimes the best things come in the most unexpected places: the fantastic cheese fries at the dingy diner; the toe-curling hand job from your cousin’s chubby friend; or, as was the case for me, my girlfriend, my mom and my brother this weekend, one of the most unbelievable sports experiences of our lives in Miami, Florida.

My mom and I wanted to do something special for my brother’s 30th. We kicked around some options—Phillies Phantasy Camp, getting a box at Citizen’s Bank—but decided to see the Phillies play some road games. We considered somewhere unique like San Diego or Chicago, but the only date that worked for everyone was Memorial Day weekend in Miami. We knew it’d be a shitty ballpark, but we figured we’d get some decent seats, there’d be tons of Phils fans, and we’d hopefully get to see some Philly w’s. Plus, it was my birthday, too, so it’d be a big ol’ celebration. My brother snagged tickets for Saturday and Sunday’s games in section 150, pretty much right behind home plate.

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Posted by Romeo G. Riverside at 9:49 am ET 57 Comments

Note: The following text is a satirical and fictional story based on the true outcomes of the regular season happenings of the 2010 Philadelphia Phillies. The text is to be considered as strictly entertainment.

Chapter One
Part One
Scene One
May 18, 2010

Enter en medias res.

The clubhouse, smoky and odorous of incense. Strange sitar music fills the gray air, hiding the men, adorned in men’s boxers, tightly fitting underpants and loose sport t-shirts. They’re each in their own small world of meditation, cupping their hands together, lifting their arms high to the ceiling and chanting one-syllable notes. At center is an elder man, draped in a mosaic of a robe – at first bright orange, but adorned with flower patterns fine in greens and blues. Jewels hang off his prune head, his hair shimmering white like the moon.

“The path to pure enlightenment stems from inside,” he speaks in clear Queen’s English. By his side is a wafer and small cup of African Rooibos, which must be noted, as it’s late in the evening, well past nigthfall, and it’s such a strong, caffeinated tea. The reason: They have lost tonight.

The men chant again as they raise their arms slowly to the heavens. Some are close to a deep trance when, suddenly, the metal doors blast open.

“Team Red Bull is in the HOUSE!”

A smattering of black-shirt-clad young adults, fit with spiky hair and orange skin, flood the room. Their very presence lifts the smoke outside, clearing the space and revealing a collection of half-naked men disrupted and dizzy.

“I do say,” says the man draped in his orange robe. It’s Charlie Manuel, well-to-do manager of the Philadelphia Phillies, “what is the meaning of this materialistic high jinks?”

Into the room, dressed in a custom-fit Red Bull Phillies jacket, is Jimmy Rollins, hardcore veteran and star shortstop of the Phillies. In each hand he carries four Red Bulls and, without warning, begins shooting the cans toward his teammates.

“GET THAT GET THAT,” yells Rollins, as his minions do the very same. Brad Lidge is knocked in the arm.

“That’s another Cortisone shot!”

“Now, now, please, will you just quiet this racket for a moment,” pleads Manuel. “We lost a tragic game this past evening, in which our stud Roy Halladay pitched until his arm nearly fell off. We must find our centers once again. We don’t need liquid refreshment in the form of a spoon of white powder.”

“Excuse me-” interrupts a nervous Ross Gload, “but can we not reference my past, sir?”

“I was talking about sugar.”

“You gotta see, man,” answers Rollins, “that’s the answer! We can’t hit Zach Duke, we gotta change the style! We gotta go hard on that sugar rush, know what I’m sayin’? GET THAT GET THAT.”

Later in the evening, as the men are departing the ballpark for their home lives, Ben Francisco and Shane Victorino ¬– wearing a shirt covered in ironed-on bear feces – are speaking about the disruption.

“I don’t know, Shane, seems like the second he comes off the disabled list, Jimmy is trying to run the team his way,” Francisco says. “It’s like a power penalty kill.” Francisco does not know hockey lingo.

“Oh, oh … I don’t know,” Victorino says hurriedly and quietly, not really paying attention to Francisco. His phone vibrates. “Oh … ah, I gotta get this.”

Victorino stalks away from Francisco, holding his phone tight to his ear, speaking in hushed tones, the night shielding him as he leaves his view.

Posted by at 8:49 am ET 81 Comments

Ryan Edmund is a scholar, Phillies fan, The Fightins dot com reader, and recent attendee of the Phillies 2nd annual Phantastic Voyage cruise. I asked Ryan if he would do me the solid of summarizing his trip for us and toss in some pictures, and he kindly obliged. These are his words, which thankfully contain ZERO lame “I’m on a boat” mentions:

My girlfriend Kerri is a bigger Phillies fan than you. Let’s just make that clear. It’s not a boast or anything, I’m not bragging here. It’s the goddamned truth. She’s obsessive, actually. She could go a month (probably two) wearing nothing but Phillies shirts before having to repeat one. It’s not just her though, it’s her entire family: Mom, Dad, grandparents, brother.  The yearly family vacation is to Clearwater. They have a room in the house where every inch of the walls are covered in Phillies merch. This past Christmas, every gift was Phillies related and at the end of the night, we all gathered around the TV to watch the 2009 season recap DVD. I’m saying all this to put you in the right frame of mind. I’m saying it all so you understand that when the second annual Phillies Phantastic Voyage cruise was announced it was really just understood that we’d all be going along. It was unsaid that in the beginning of January, we’d all be vacationing in the Caribbean with Shane Victorino, JC Romero, Ryan Madson, Greg Luzinski, Scott Palmer and the Phillie Phanatic. My ticket was already purchased for me before I even said I wanted to go.

The package, put together by AAA and on Holland-America Lines, was a regular cruise with special Phillies events included for the around 250 fans who booked the sold out cruise. The Phillies themed events included cocktail parties, Q&A and photo sessions, and trivia contests. But to us, the most exciting part was being able to rub elbows with Shane and Co.

The trip was from January 9th to the 16th with stops in Turks and Caicos, Puerto Rico, US Virgin Islands, and the Bahamas.

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R.I.P Harry Kalas