Posted by tonywonder in 2010 | 0 Comments
SeizureChicken: The 2010 Baseball Preview Issue
Yesterday was Easter Sunday, but for me, the real holiday is today – because today is Opening Day. A billion afternoon baseball games, endless sunshine, happy dogs, kids singing for no reason, apple pies, windowsills…that’s right, it’s baseball season! And, to honor this momentous occasion, I’m happy to present SeizureChicken’s most poorly-conceived idea yet: the Official Patented Infallible Vatican-sanctioned 110% Super Deluxe Collector’s Edition Major League Baseball Preview Issue: 2010 edition. There’s thirty baseball teams, each with their own storylines (which vary in interesting-ness) – and since this is an indie-rock website, each team gets an anthem. Some of the teams are better than others. Some of the anthems are better than others. The writing is uniformly terrible. And so, without further ado: 30 random teams, 30 random songs. Play Ball!
NL Central
Anthem: “Mouth Breather,” The Jesus Lizard
Predicted Record: sorta shitty
Astute Analysis: “They’re nice guys, I like ‘em just fine…but they’re the Cubs.” It’s a testament to the quality of the oh-so-shitty NL Central that the Cubbies – a truly admirable armada of sunk costs, utility lamefielders, and mouth-breather-relievers (and Aramis Ramirez, a respectable model of consistency with an awesome name) – have an outside chance to contend for a playoff spot. Of course, there’s a distinct possibility that the Cubs’ mountainous payroll might someday translate into real-world success – though it’ll take more than this to break the Curse of Curly’s Gold.
Bold Prediction: Lou Piniella resumes his little-publicized study of massage therapy, and, following his termination, becomes the world’s most unused massage therapist.
Anthem: “Young Offenders,” The Constantines
Predicted Record: sleeper pick…still sorta shitty, though
Impeccable Analysis: As a Brewer fan, I hope like fuck that the Reds don’t capitalize on their sleeper potential – but it’s tough to ignore their nucleus, which is Megan-Fox-esque in its youthful well-roundedness.
Bold Prediction: as is the pattern with most Cuban defectors, pitcher Aroldis Chapman is revealed to be a not a pitcher, but a literary symbol consisting of ideas intended to metaphorically represent the “idea” or “essence” of a pitcher. Also, he’s 45 years old and three feet tall.
Anthem: “Losing My Edge,” LCD Soundsystem
Predicted Record: pretty shitty
Insightful Analysis: If the Astros possessed some sort of time machine in which they could replace each of their present-day players with their respective past selves (Berkman, Tejada, Lee, Oswalt, Brett Myers, etc.), they’d probably win the division. But then they wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.
Bold Prediction: First-time manager Brad Mills makes a sex tape and forces underperforming players to watch it. This interesting managerial tactic propels the Astros to new levels of throwing up in the dugout.
Milwaukee Brewers
Anthem: “There’s No Sky (Oh My My),” Jaill
Predicted Record: unfortunately, sorta shitty
Heartbreaking Analysis: The sky’s the limit for my own personal version of America’s Team, who (post-Braun/Fielder) offer up an offense mostly composed of youthful underachievers and minor league all-stars who have yet to capitalize on their tantalizing potential – and might never do it. And yet the Brewers will be forced to depend on an offense of ne’er-do-wells, because the fairly anemic pitching staff – this guy, this guy, this guy, this guy– is, at this point, a liability. Prove me wrong, Cerveceros. Prove me wrong.
Bold Prediction: following an unsuccessful first half, Brewers brass replaces the Sausage Race with the more existentially-satisfying (and delicious) Sausage Knife Fight.
Anthem: “What a Waster,” The Libertines
Predicted Record: dependably shitty
Obvious Analysis: As if they finally recognized that the only successful small-market business model involves prospects, number-crunching, and a willingness to lose now in favor of winning later, the Pirates traded their entire roster for a mystery box full of midlevel prospects. That’s the positive side of a season that will indefinitely end in another losing record for the real-life version of every bad team from every crappy sports movie ever made.
Bold Prediction: In perhaps the lowest of twenty years of lows, general manager Neal Huntington resigns amidst allegations that he sexually harassed himself.
Anthem: “10 Amazing Years,” Jason Forrest
Predicted Record: man, fuck these guys
Fuck: That song is a reference to Albert Pujols, who enters his tenth year in the majors as the undisputed Grand Master of Baseball. The Cardinals are easily the class of the division, with two offensive machines (Pujols and Matt Holliday), two Cy Young-caliber pitchers (Carpenter and Wainwright, who, allegedly, were separated at birth), and Skip Schumaker, a plucky utility infielder who will fill the 21 remaining roster spots.
Bold Prediction: Hitting coach Mark McGwire finally perfects his recipe for barbecued pork ribs, and then whacks dingers with the bones.
We’ll continue in a couple of hours or days or whatever with the rest of the National League. I’m gonna go shotgun a beer.
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