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Sammy Sofa

By Sammy Sofa,
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Clem Fandango All-Star

Clem Fandango

Old-Timey Member
Posted
Posted

FanGraphs with a detailed analysis of Adam Dunn's pitching performance:

 

http://www.fangraphs.com/blogs/adam-dunn-as-a-pitcher/

 

Here’s the book on Adam Dunn, pitcher: He has a three pitch repertoire, relying primarily on what PITCHf/x is calling a “changeup” that sits 80mph but tops out at 83 with considerable armside run. He occasionally mixes in a slider at 76 and can drop in a slow curveball at 74. He is an absolute strike throwing machine, with a 54% zone percentage that would be a top-10 mark in baseball this season. His 9.00 ERA is heavily inflated by a .400 BABIP that surely points to future regression. A 0% swinging strike percentage doesn’t bode well for a potential surge in strikeouts, and he could do himself some favors by lowering that nasty 16% walk rate.
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OleMissCub Cooperstown

OleMissCub

Old-Timey Member
Posted
Posted

Darryl Strawberry confirms the old urban legend about Kevin Mitchell cutting the head off of a cat

 

http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/baseball/mets/strawberry-revisits-story-kevin-mitchell-killing-girlfriend-cat-article-1.1892666

 

I liked Mitch, but I knew better than to ever [expletive] with him. I'd heard stories about his background in San Diego, some of which included rumors that he'd hurt some people in gang-related violence. I don't know about that, but I got to witness, firsthand, Mitch's temper.

 

I dropped by his house along with Meade Chassky, a card show-and-events entrepreneur with whom I became good friends over the years. Meade and I had had lunch at my house, and we decided to pay Mitch an unannounced visit. That was a mistake.

 

When we got there, I realized Kevin was both drunk and angry, a dangerous combination. He was holding a twelve-inch knife in his hands, having an argument with his live-in girlfriend. Kevin was right in the girl's face, screaming at the top of his lungs.

 

"I told you not to [expletive] with me, but you don't want to fuckin' listen to me, do you?" Mitch said.

 

I saw this and started to turn around, but then Mitch wheeled on me and Meade. Now that we'd walked in, we were fair game..

 

"Sit the [expletive] down, the two of you. You're not going anywhere."

 

He was serious. I could tell. I wouldn't have wanted Mitch mad at me without a knife. With it, all he had to do was say jump, and I'd say, How high?

 

Somehow, Mitch got it in his head that Meade and I were being followed by the cops and they were outside, staking him out. So he told us to barricade the doors. We looked at him like he was crazy, which, at that moment, he was.

 

"You think I'm kidding? Do what I tell you," Mitch shouted.

 

Poor Meade; he was so scared, I swear he peed in his pants. I can't say I blamed him, either, because I was worried about how crazy Mitch might get. His temper was one thing; but that knife in his hand was another. I had no choice but to barricade the front door. We put a couch in front of it, then stacked two chairs on top of the couch. After that, Mitch ordered us to pull the blinds down on all the windows, then he ripped the phone out of the wall.

 

Finally, I tried to plead with him.

 

"Mitch, listen to me. It's okay, there's nobody out there," I said gently.

 

"You calling me a liar, [expletive]?" he shouted. He met my eyes with a glaze so fierce, I had to look away.

 

His girlfriend tried reasoning with Mitch, too. "Kevin, stop acting so crazy, these people are your friends," she said. With that, Mitch turned to her and raised his anger to yet another level. Still holding the knife in his right hand, he grabbed his girlfriend's little cat, who had the misfortune to be walking near his feet at that very moment. In one awful sweep of his hand, Mitch pulled the cat's head back, exposing its throat.

 

"You think I'm kidding when I say don't ever [expletive] with me?" he shouted. Before the girl could answer, Mitch took the knife to the cat, and cut its head off. Clean. I was horrified by the sight: Mitch was still holding the cat's head in one hand, while the body dropped to the floor, blood pouring out from where the head once was, limbs still twitching.

 

The girl was practically out of control, screaming so loud I'm shocked the cops didn't actually show up. Meade tried to run for the door, but Mitch wasn't about to become reasonable yet.

 

"Sit the [expletive] down, Meade. You and Doc, sit down on that couch and don't move," he said.

 

Considering he had a severed cat's head and a knife in his hands, he didn't get an argument from either one of us.

 

We sat down. So did the girlfriend. And Mitch sat across from us, shooting darts at us with his eyes. Sort of like a modern-day Mexican standoff. We remained like this for almost two hours, no one saying a word, until Mitch finally started to nod off. He'd start to close his eyes, then open them quickly, almost like he was testing us. Finally, for some reason, the dark cloud over him moved on. Mitch half smiled and said, "You guys can go."

 

We left, in about a half second, of course. The next day at the ballpark, I approached Mitch and asked, "You feeling okay?"

 

Looking straight ahead, he said, "Yesterday never happened." And we never mentioned it again."

jersey cubs fan GOAT

jersey cubs fan

Old-Timey Member
Posted
Posted
Not only did Cashman call his Rays counterpart, Andrew Friedman, about trading for Price, he also dialed up the Red Sox's Ben Cherington to discuss Jon Lester and John Lackey. Those conversations didn't get very far.

 

Both GMs told Cashman they had been given approval by ownership to trade their elite pitchers anywhere in the majors -- except to the Yankees.

 

Cashman expected as much from the Red Sox. Who do you think came up with the term "Evil Empire" anyway? He held out a sliver of hope on Price, but Friedman soon gave him the thumbs-down. So the Yankees, the contender that most wanted an ace-type starter, got shut out while the two teams that least needed one — the Tigers and A's — wound up with Price and Lester, respectively.

Gotta love how the NY papers carry Cashman's water for him.

George Hayduke College Ball

George Hayduke

Old-Timey Member
Posted
Posted
Darryl Strawberry confirms the old urban legend about Kevin Mitchell cutting the head off of a cat

 

http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/baseball/mets/strawberry-revisits-story-kevin-mitchell-killing-girlfriend-cat-article-1.1892666

 

I liked Mitch, but I knew better than to ever [expletive] with him. I'd heard stories about his background in San Diego, some of which included rumors that he'd hurt some people in gang-related violence. I don't know about that, but I got to witness, firsthand, Mitch's temper.

 

I dropped by his house along with Meade Chassky, a card show-and-events entrepreneur with whom I became good friends over the years. Meade and I had had lunch at my house, and we decided to pay Mitch an unannounced visit. That was a mistake.

 

When we got there, I realized Kevin was both drunk and angry, a dangerous combination. He was holding a twelve-inch knife in his hands, having an argument with his live-in girlfriend. Kevin was right in the girl's face, screaming at the top of his lungs.

 

"I told you not to [expletive] with me, but you don't want to [expletive]' listen to me, do you?" Mitch said.

 

I saw this and started to turn around, but then Mitch wheeled on me and Meade. Now that we'd walked in, we were fair game..

 

"Sit the [expletive] down, the two of you. You're not going anywhere."

 

He was serious. I could tell. I wouldn't have wanted Mitch mad at me without a knife. With it, all he had to do was say jump, and I'd say, How high?

 

Somehow, Mitch got it in his head that Meade and I were being followed by the cops and they were outside, staking him out. So he told us to barricade the doors. We looked at him like he was crazy, which, at that moment, he was.

 

"You think I'm kidding? Do what I tell you," Mitch shouted.

 

Poor Meade; he was so scared, I swear he peed in his pants. I can't say I blamed him, either, because I was worried about how crazy Mitch might get. His temper was one thing; but that knife in his hand was another. I had no choice but to barricade the front door. We put a couch in front of it, then stacked two chairs on top of the couch. After that, Mitch ordered us to pull the blinds down on all the windows, then he ripped the phone out of the wall.

 

Finally, I tried to plead with him.

 

"Mitch, listen to me. It's okay, there's nobody out there," I said gently.

 

"You calling me a liar, [expletive]?" he shouted. He met my eyes with a glaze so fierce, I had to look away.

 

His girlfriend tried reasoning with Mitch, too. "Kevin, stop acting so crazy, these people are your friends," she said. With that, Mitch turned to her and raised his anger to yet another level. Still holding the knife in his right hand, he grabbed his girlfriend's little cat, who had the misfortune to be walking near his feet at that very moment. In one awful sweep of his hand, Mitch pulled the cat's head back, exposing its throat.

 

"You think I'm kidding when I say don't ever [expletive] with me?" he shouted. Before the girl could answer, Mitch took the knife to the cat, and cut its head off. Clean. I was horrified by the sight: Mitch was still holding the cat's head in one hand, while the body dropped to the floor, blood pouring out from where the head once was, limbs still twitching.

 

The girl was practically out of control, screaming so loud I'm shocked the cops didn't actually show up. Meade tried to run for the door, but Mitch wasn't about to become reasonable yet.

 

"Sit the [expletive] down, Meade. You and Doc, sit down on that couch and don't move," he said.

 

Considering he had a severed cat's head and a knife in his hands, he didn't get an argument from either one of us.

 

We sat down. So did the girlfriend. And Mitch sat across from us, shooting darts at us with his eyes. Sort of like a modern-day Mexican standoff. We remained like this for almost two hours, no one saying a word, until Mitch finally started to nod off. He'd start to close his eyes, then open them quickly, almost like he was testing us. Finally, for some reason, the dark cloud over him moved on. Mitch half smiled and said, "You guys can go."

 

We left, in about a half second, of course. The next day at the ballpark, I approached Mitch and asked, "You feeling okay?"

 

Looking straight ahead, he said, "Yesterday never happened." And we never mentioned it again."

 

Holy [expletive].

Guest

Guest

Guests
Posted
Posted
yeah that story is [expletive] nuts
Guest

Guest

Guests
Posted
Posted
I heard on the radio that Eaton said they asked him what happened. He told them he thought he hit the pad. Not quite.
Cubfanintheknow First Round Pick

Cubfanintheknow

Old-Timey Member
Posted
Posted
I heard on the radio that Eaton said they asked him what happened. He told them he thought he hit the pad. Not quite.

 

Actually, when they asked him what happened, he responded, "When did they put in that fence?"

TruffleShuffle Cooperstown

TruffleShuffle

Old-Timey Member
Posted
Posted

the mariners (facing jose quintana) went walk, reached on error, 3 run homer, single, single in the 5th inning against the white sox to take a 3-1 lead. so 5 straight runners on base, heart of the lineup coming up to the plate. lloyd mcclendon had dustin ackley (#2 hitter) lay down a bunt. ackley is a lefthanded batter, quintana is a righthanded pitcher, quintana has started to struggle, and ackley has a .367/.383/.620/1.003 line since the all-star break. mcclendon was asked after the game why he had ackley bunt, and he said it was because ackley was 1-for-7 career against quintana.

 

](*,)

Guest

Guest

Guests
Posted
Posted
19 teams are within 5.5 games of a playoff spot right now.

 

And 16 of those teams are within 3 games. Crazy.

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