Stalking Chase: An Admirer on Tracks

Dear Chase Utley,

Thanks for ripping twenty eight homers with your short, jerky swing. Your VORP is like that of John Lennon, there is only one.

It’s time for you to find a Hollywood publicist and a public vice. Spend your nights outside Philly’s finest strip joints with Stephen Jackson, firing automatic weapons into the air, slurping Grey Goose on the rocks and snorting cocaine off Destiny’s backside. Let your hair down Chase, we wanna see your dark side.

The way you flick those wrists makes me wonder if you’re into S&M.

-Locomotive

We Wonder If Bloatsburgh Has a Park This Nice; And Whether The Beets Have Played to a Sold-out Crowd There

As Giants fans who have been to PNC Park, we don't take kindly to those that favor Pittsburgh's confines to the Bay Area's. However, the above picture single-imagedly closed that gap betwixt the two a couple rosin bag-widths worth.

A gem of a yard no doubt. Though we'd prefer to be sitting down the first-base line than underneath Jason Bay's taint, as photographer Gene J. Puskar so selected.

For those, however, who aren't quite sold on the slight superiority of Pac BellAT&TMonster? SBC over PNC, try drinking Iron City lager out of an aluminum bottle after a frothy cup of Anchor Steam on draft. It's like chasing angellic breast milk with demonic outhouse sludge. Figuratively.

Or maybe we're just bitter the G-men can't buy, or barter with clubhouse blow-up dolls, a win in that god forsaken yard.

Beane Defends Recent Thrifty Waiver-work: 'Construction Workers Currently Undervalued'

Spring Chickens Begin Springing Out Of Offseason Eggs

Camp games are underway in Florida and Arizona, and our whistle for the cowhide has officially begun to moisten.

As pictured above, P Diddy -- sans gun -- was in uniform for the Mets, who bageled the Cardinals 7-0; The Giants were doubled up by the Cubbies, as Kevin Correia got truly goatcreamed; and the Sawwwwxx looked facking ferocious against stiff opposition.

A gaggle of other games, monitored for fantasy purposes, went down as well: Ryan Howard, Braun, and Granderson each went yard; Joe Blanton got lit.

All in all, we're sure an absolutely great day for fans collecting skin cancer baskin' in it down at their respective team's camps.

Full Scoreboard

Has Your Runs Output Been Arrested? Call Bonds, Man

Whispers have been heard from several MLB teams (most recently Tampa) contemplating the possibility of rickshawing in Barry Bonds for the 2008 campaign. After all, it's pretty tough not to mull over the notion of bringing in one of the game's all-time greats to play for your team, and awkwardly cross-dress at your spring camp.

As any man who truly loves his profession would do, Barry will work for anyone with a checkbook. Yep, #24's godson has expressed interest in participating in Viking Warrior playing baseball in Japan.

However this ends up... whether Barry's clearing fences for wrinkly-balled narcoleptics, or tiny balled martial arts enthusiasts, it'll be good for baseball.

And don't worry Japan, although his head and temper are giant, and his backne may resemble a scaley, reptilian epidermis, he will not engulf you in flames.

Rays have discussions about Bonds [CNNSI]
Blackballed Bonds has eye on Japan [Metro Times]

Lasorda Back to Buffet, Dugout

Hall of fame skipper /Vladimir Guerrero bat magnet Tommy Lasorda is returning to the dugout. Yep, the ol' chubster will be leading the Dodgers into exhibitionist battle for eight split-squad games in Florida this March.

The move is win-win for both the Los Angeles organization and coach: LA is looking to improve its spring training record, and Tommy is looking to consume his weight in post-game spread baco bits.

Lasorda back on bench, briefly [CNNSI]

Tejada Denies Even Drafting Mitchell to Fantasy Football Team

KISSIMMEE, Fla -- Houston Astros slugging shortstop Miguel Tejada told reporters Tuesday that not only could he not discuss questions about the Mitchell Report, but that his lawyers have even advised him to steer clear of confirming whether Scott Mitchell was on his fantasy football team, 'Miggy Pops,' in 1995.

"Tejada smells guilty to me," ESPN fantasy writer Eric Karabell said. "Mitchell passed for over 4,300 yards and 32 touchdowns in '95. Why he would deny that just doesn't make too much sense to me and my ilk."

Tejada emphasized to the media members in front of his locker that unlike McGwire, he does want to talk about the past, and unlike Sammy Sosa, he is able to speak English.

"I'll admit, I did have Herman Moore and [Johnnie] Morton that year," Tejada said. "I have no comment on Mitchell."

Padres Agree to One Year Deal with Broken Dreams

The San Diego Padres signed that Ferrari tape rewinder from that partially molded box in your garage to a one year, $1 million contract.

You know, that sleek-looking silver thing that was so promising back in '97 but has never been fully capable of rewinding a VHS all the way from end to start, and fucks up DVDs that you try to get it to service.

Technological scouts agree the mechanics of its spinning cylinders appear flawless, but they always end up chewing your tapes. Now, it will be chewing up about 15 innings in the NL West during the 2008 season.

Padres sign Prior to one-year deal [CNNSI]

True Life: I'm Trying to Re-sign Chili Davis, Pt. II

Chevron station in San Francisco, December 12

Brian Sabean: Hmm, so many types of fuel at the pumps these days. Which one should I get to replace my old steroid-ridden fuel that leaked out? Wait... did I remember to remember to TiVo You, Me and Dupree? Aw, rats.

*Dodgers GM Ned Colletti pulls up in his Blue Aerostar, honks horn*

Sabean: Ok, ok Coley. Gimme a second. Let's see here, $3.49? $3.59? or $3.89 for the diesel? My Miata could use that extra boost, I'll spring for the diesel. *Removes sunglasses* Diesel, I offer you five gallons for $90. Are you his agent? *Turns toward shrub planted next to pump* Ok, it's a deal. Final final. *Shakes branch*

Colletti: Quit jerking off that shrub Sabo. I need to pull in and fill up on that gas that got Schuerholtz 2.22 miles per gallon last year and makes your car prance around when you step on the accelerator.

Sabean: Okey doke. *Salutes* Remember my son, best of luck in your travels. May you live the dream of signing Bill Van Landingham's dad to a pitching deal. *Gives thumbs up*

*Sabes proceeds to insert gasoline nozzel into cigarette lighter, begins pouring*

Giants sign Rowand to five-year deal [SFgiants.com]

Updated Ed. Note: Oh, good it was only for $60 million. Not 90, as was first estimated.

"It Moved, Jerry!"

He dragged the 2005 National League Championship trophy around the Minute Maid Park parking lot in his wood-paneled Chrysler LeBaron. He bashfully streaked down the buttress and across the diamond in a beige body suit. He stuffed his face with juicy strawberries while wearing a vintage Nolan Ryan Astros uniform. And now, he finally gets his wish.

The Lord of the Idiots, along with four other Houston players, was shipped to Baltimore Wednesday for slugging infielder Miguel Tejada.

Yep, the Jerk Store's all-time best seller is headed to Murdaland. At least we're pretty sure that's who they mean when they say Michael Costanzo.

American Baseball Fans Rejoice: F*k-U is Coming!

One of Japan's premier outfielders, Kosuke Fukudome, is fleeing the island, and headed for the majors.

We, along with every other fan who lands Fu(c)kudome, will be hoping he doesn't put Kosuke on his jersey. Only Ichiro does stuff as gay backwards as that.

The Vietnamese have given us Phuc, and now Japan, as a Pearl Harbor 66th anniversary gift, will be donating Fuk.

Fuck proper pronunciations. Fuck small children's ears. Stadium graphics operators, if you want to spin the crowd into a profun-ity frenzy, Kosuke at-bats will be your nirvana.

FUK-U *drum drum* FUK-U *drum drum*

Put it on the boooooard, yyyyyesss.

Fukudome says he's headed to the majors [Sports Illustrated]

Moronic Personnel Decisions? Or Jealousy Fueled Youth Dumpage

When the Lincecum for Rios trade gets approved by Sabean I’ll be loading up the family garbage with my entire Giants’ paraphernalia collection. I’ll grab the i-Pod, head down to the local mall, snag myself a Sbarro slice, some Christmas silk boxers, and a sparkling new Blue Jays hat.

I can’t watch any more if Lincecum is gone. The dream is dead.

I will, however, get some encouragement if this trade goes through. It will validate my front office-back door Magowan/Sabean love affair theory.

Why do you think Magowan sits in the front row instead of the owner’s box? To be one with the fans? No, he’s trying to guard against the easy association that can be made from “GM and owner, owners box, San Francisco, long term deals”…the silver lining is Sabes chillin' solo in the box behind his Oakleys, ogling Petey Mag’s whispy blonde locks.

More proof: Sabes trades any player under thirty and only signs players in their forties…why? Because he doesn’t want Magowan to get a wandering eye. Even in the Schmidt trade, the best trade of Sabean’s career, handsome youngsters were shipped off for one of the weirdest looking eggheads in baseball.

Joe Nathan? Get him out of here. We’ll take the junkyard loudmouth A.J. Pierzynski. No threat there.

Into this treacherous love fest scenario comes shining Timmy Lincecum. He’s young, bouncy, bendable, and now he’s on his way to freeze his ass off in Canada and the American League, far away from the clutches of Magowan’s bewitching charm. So long Timmy, bye-bye. (Ed. Note: Fortunately, Lincecum made it safely through the winter meetings in black and orange, and appears safe in the City. For now. *Knock on Sabes' head*)

-Locomotive

True Life: I'm Trying to Re-sign Chili Davis

Embassy Suites lobby. Nashville, Tennessee on Day 1 of MLB Winter Meetings

Brian Sabean: What do you mean my room isn't ready?

Receptionist: Sir, we were a little short staffed this morning. We're terribly sorry. If you wait just five minutes we will upgrade you to the master suite. Your stay will be complimentary.

Sabean: *Dazing off into space* Huh? No I'm not going to wait five minutes. Just give me my room key.

Receptionist: Sir, the only room available right now is our Amish villa. It is a converted outhouse from the 1800s with urine-stained walls.

Sabean: It's lasted for over two decades? Perfect, that's how you know it's a stable, savvy room. I'll take it.

Receptionist: Sir, in just one moment the master suite will be...

Sabean: Chh, chh, chh. Gimme the porta-john key and tell me which dotted line to sign on.

Receptionist: *Rolls eyes* Ok sir, if you insist.

Brian Cashman emerges from elevator.

Cashman: Hey Bri, how's it hanging ol' chum. Wanna do a few carbombs at the bar?

Sabean: Actually, Terry Ryan invited me to smoke some angeldust back in his room and talk a little shop.

Cashman: Nonsense Saby baby. I think you're the best GM around. I'd like to learn a few of your tricks, you dirty wise ol' owl. Come on I'll buy you some drinks.

3/4 of a Zima later...

Cashman: Come on, Lincecum and Zito only got twenty victories for you last year. They're just not winners, Bri. Matsui won almost 100 games with us. You're getting five times the value.

Sabean: But Lord Magowan said I'm not supposed to trade Timmy or Barry.

Cashman: Pshhhhh. Neither that buck-toothed preteen nor the pink furry can speak Japanese like my man 'Deki. Sabes, you know you have the yellow fever. Remember how quickly you shred through those Chinese finger traps?

Sabean: *Knods giddily*

Cashman: I'll tell you what, I'll let you keep Zito. You just give me Lincecum, and I'll give you Matsui, his wheelchair, and a carton of colorfully-woven finger traps.

Sabean: Gee, I still don't know, Cash.

One Bartles & Jaymes later...

Sabean: Ok, Ok. You can have Lincecum and I'll throw in Matt Cain as well. But you have to give me cash considerations and Kyle Farnsworth.

Shake hands.

Cashman: No take backs! *Runs out of bar*

*Bellhop enters*

Bellhop: Sir, your master suite is ready.

Sabean: Nice try. I already signed a one-year lease in the dumpster by the highway.

Elite Lefties Get, Give, Golden Treatment

Everybody's favorite Bay Area southpaws took in a Warriors 22-point gagging versus Detroit November 14. They were both honored with custom Golden State jerseys, unfortunately just before the photo shoot Dontrelle urinated on his. Something tells us Boom-Dizzle is gonna go ahead let D-Train keep that loaner.

Photo Courtesy NBA.com

Cleveland Clubber Adopts Cranium-Crushing Conditioning Program

When we last saw Travis Hafner he was swinging lightly, and striking even lighter. Well, Pronk has since undergone a new off-season workout regimen that's sure to leave AL pitchers bloodied come next spring.

Hafner played the part of Anton Chigurh, a ruthless killer, in the Coen brothers' latest film No Country for Old Men. Indians manager Eric Wedge hopes the role will improve his desingated hitter's mental toughness, murderous instinct, and ability to recognize a slider.

Personnel on the set provided Hafner additional practice opportunities as well.

"In between takes we let Pronk swing at a piñata which we told him was a live goat made of cowhide," Co-director Joel Coen said. "We would fill it with red jolly ranchers to resemble actual blood."

Hafner's lumbering figure, ogre-soft voice, and passion for children's nursery rhymes made him an instant hit with the cast and crew. Makeup coordinator Stacy Keebler considers Hafner the easiest job she's ever had.

"When he first came onto set he was bald," Keebler said. "Ethan [Coen] just told me to go for a 'Mr. Larson without the nail in his head' look. Luckily I came across some squirrel roadkill which I had Travvy skin. That night I had it tailored to fit, and presto! Anton Chigurh was born."

Hafner became so fond of the role, he is now reportedly lobbying to Indians hitting coach Derek Shelton that he be able to use a cattle stun gun in the batter's box for the 2008 season.

"It's a step in the right direction," Shelton said. "With Trav, that's all we can ask for."

Paula Abdul Faces Heap Of Legal Hot Potatoes

Barry Bonds was indicted Thursday by a federal grand jury on charges of perjury and obstruction of justice.

But Barry is not to be blamed, mind you. After all, his testimonial predecessors milked all the effective truth-thwarting mechanisms dry: McGwire used the power of vaginitis, Sosa the power of lingual amnesia, and hell, Palmeiro just needed to use steroids to get a rise out of his wet noodle.

Bonds was unfairly backed into a corner here, and now the federal government is taking advantage of a shriveling hardball icon. It's the equivalent of corporally punishing a preschooler or throwing a toaster into a senior's sponge bath.

Well, at least now we won't have to watch Barry don another club's uniform next season. As the old saying goes, 'it's better to have him in horizontal stripes than pinstripes.'

Bonds indicted on perjury, obstruction of justice charges [SF Chronicle]

Orioles Designated Hitter Is In The Game

Aubrey Huff recently revealed, in a satellite radio interview, (1) his distaste for his employer's city, (2) his affinity for dolphin flogging, and (3) the countless bodies he has laid waste to during his stint in Bodymore.

The former opinion seems to be a common one, held by the likes of Jimmy McNulty, Mayor Carcetti, Bubbles, and every other person sucked into urban decay by the vacuum of inner city hopelessness. The latter admission, scoffed at by more discreet body snatchers such as the Marlo Stanfield drug empire. As for the second, only Mother Theresa and Michael Moore don't list that as a hobby.

All of this hating on Baltimore coming from a (slightly above) average MLB infielder begs the question: how long would Huff last on the streets of Murdaland, USA without his Orioles contract? And what would his itinerary look like? Why, we're glad you asked.

8:15 a.m. Get hired as foot patrolman in West Baltimore for the BPD.

8:28 a.m. Masturbate in back alley.

9:24 a.m. Steal two rolls of toilet paper and a t-shirt from Bubble's Depot.

10:15 a.m. Hear "Farmer in the Dell" tune being whistled. Duck under car when you realize it's Omar and his sawed-off shotgun coming.

10:16 a.m. Masturbate under car.

11:05 a.m. Head back to station for lunch break.

11:06 a.m. Get fired for ejaculating into breakroom coffee pot.

11:44 a.m. Head down to the high rises. Score "lookout" gig for a Stanfield corner crew.

12:05 p.m. Sip on brown-bagged malt liquor, yell "5-0" when a police car rolls through street.

12:07 p.m. Attempt to masturbate 50 times in the next 50 minutes.

12:58 p.m. Mock black gentleman wearing glasses with suit and bow tie sitting on park bench reading The Nation.

12:58 p.m. Become acquainted with Brother Mouzone via bullet-in-the-knee handshake.

12:59 p.m. Stop the bleeding by ejaculating into gunshot wound.

1:15 p.m. Score capsule of "WMDs" from corner slanger to ease pain.

1:44 p.m. Wander through streets of West Baltimore, tripping balls.

1:49 p.m. Get hit by stop-sign running SUV driven by Donut.

1:50 p.m. Masturbate.

1:51 p.m. Perish.

4:55 p.m. Have corpse transfered to vacant by Chris Partlow and Snoop. Get nailed in for eternal rest.

Needless to say, we're quite excited we now have less than two months until The Wire returns for its fifth and final installment!

Schilling: I'm a Woman! I'm 40!

Sock-painting Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling will not have his thunder stolen by some rookie.

Boston infielder Dustin Pedroia recently revealed he played the last two months of the season with a broken bone in his left wrist.

Schilling, never the one to be overshadowed, made a rugged admission of his own Saturday.

"I pitched most of the season damaged," Schilling said on his blog 38pitches.com. "Even though I was in wicked hellish pain I just had to play through it for the good of the team. Because that's who I am. I'm a team-first type teammate."

According to the right hander's gynecologist, Schilling had been nursing a condition referred to as "turf vagina," or sprained vulva as its known medically.

The former Cy Young runner-up is expected to be fully recovered in time for spring training.

MLB Enters War On Unprotected Dome

ORLANDO, Fla. -- In response to the tragic death of a minor league first-base coach last season, baseball will now use protection.

General managers decided base coaches of all 30 major league clubs will be required to wear helmets on the field beginning in 2008.

In addition to the "Olerud adjustment," commissioner Bud Selig is also mandating extra shielding for base coaches of two MLB franchises.

Kansas City coaches must wear medieval knight armor, coupled with an excalibur, in an attempt to provide the necessary defense against mullet-ridden tag team familial assaults.

"Having been to Kaufman Stadium on more than one occasion, it just makes sense," Detroit Tigers president Dave Dombrowski said. "When those fans get wet, they get wiley."

As for a bulwark to guard against another set of wet and wiley midwestern fans, general managers also voted Thursday that Chicago Cubs coaches be required to wear condoms at all times.

Welcome To The Machine, Carney

The San Francisco Giants hired Carney Lansford as their new hitting coach Thursday. Lansford, a former batting champion and five-time All-Star is indeed quite the upgrade to Joe Lefebvre and his inspiring .258 lifetime mark.

Initially, the news of Sabean making a competent personnel move came as a shock. But upon further inspection we realized Sabes thought he was signing Lansford as his starting third baseman. After all, G-men fans are no longer in awe of our general manager's mystifying ability to put crustaceans on the diamond and make big-time talent vanish into thin air the Metrodome.

B.S. Factoid of the Day: Brian Sabean once won a goldfish at a carnival game, but insisted on paying the vendor with a first-round pick.