Friday, July 20, 2012

SF Tsunami Impregnate NABA Playoffs

Congrats boys, but don’t expect a fucking certificate when 60% of the teams in this league make the playoffs. However, unlike Danger we did actually clinch a berth this week and that’s something to feel good about. If only because it doesn’t mean a frantic dash to Safeway for some emergency contraception.

Lot of storylines this week: Free Brazzers, Danger an almost father, Bradley Cooper’s flirtation with TST, Abbot “The Artist” dying a slow married-life death, Laser losing a footrace to third base to a fat guy for the fourth out in an frighteningly accurate real life metaphor for his dating life, and most important….wait for it…the triumphant return of our All-Star Catcher who we were lucky to win a single game without.

We also played a baseball game this week. Winning 11-1 is fucking fun, right? I don’t know what got into you guys but we lit up the Heroes like a Japanese business man’s face in the Castro on a Saturday night. Apparently, Dan thought I would use the occasion to make culturally insensitive references about Pearl Harbor, Karaoke, and/or Anime porn but he underestimates me. Instead, Tommy and I bridged the divide and honored them later that night with a Bud Light Sake Bomb for every run we scored. We are the world, you guys.

Tsunami 11, Heroes 1
“TSA Thought It Was A Weapon” Dick:
Daniels: 2-4, HR, 5 RBI

Big Swinging Dicks:
Ba(Na)2 Bread: 1-3 HR, 2 RBI
Laser Show 3-5 2 SB, 2R, 3 Off the Wall!
Toddamus 3-5 2 RBI, 2B
Bradley Cooper HR, 2 RBI

Laser - 2
Abbott, WTF?!– 1

Bump Kings:
LG: 5IP 5K 0 BB 2H (W)
Nuke LaLoosh: 4IP 1 ER 7K SV

Glove Kings:
Bradley Cooper for making his 4 chances at second look as good as his hair.
Toddamus’ beautiful play on that slow roller with a fast runner.

LaLoosh ruining a mercy rule/early Marin cougar run
Laser Show envy of Ba(Na)2 Bread’s game

Nuke LaLoosh for getting some much needed extra work on the hill.

Mid-Season Form:
Malibu Castle: 1-3 2R, 2B, HBP, 1 Bruised Hand

“Beating the Sandusky Dead Horse Award”: Malibu Castle
“Boy Who Cried Wool”: Malibu Castle

“To the Masterbatorium!”:
Highbrow dugout discussion debating the merits of various adult film stars: Leyla Starr or Jenaveve Jolie?
Pancho/Pancho (Most Valuable Contribution Award)

Tsunami Shitter Twitter
Prepare to Win!
Daniels: Planning on taking forty naked swings in front of a mirror from 2 to 4
Malibu Castle: I may try to talk the Mexican miniature golf attendant into letting me get her pregnant behind the Time Crisis game

Ba(Na)2 Bread: I got some action last night, what about you Sal?
Malibu Castle: My GF surprised with tickets to a magic show
Quinoa: Is that some kind of euphemism?

Laser: I got fucking hosed last night I’m sorry

LG: “Christmas in July!!! Fuck you guys, once I get this bounty of blog riches (thanks Dan!!) in my brain like a finger-sized line of the finest Peruvian Chiva I will singlehandedly provide enough material for your children’s blogs and you children’s children’s blogs.
LG: Basically what Tommy would define as a humble expectation
Laser (To Malibu): If you don’t hit 5 homeruns and catch two perfect games you’ve overhyped it

Laser: I hate when I want to fuck a girl and then you tell her that and she acts really mean after
Daniels: I hate when you want to fuck a girl but she sees your wedding ring but then she doesn’t care but now you do so you end up just making more room in the spank bank.

LG: I missed out on some good stuff when you guys were D’Antonoing the Black Sox and Sea Lions. Guess what I wasn’t doing? Padding stats.

Coach Everchill: What is hh?
Dan: What is ppl?

LG: Jesus…I’m not the fucking lifeguard for this shit you are all going to have to learn to swim on your own.
LG: And some (Tom) may drown in the process

Everchill: Wife making me watch something called “the artist”. Fuck me.
Everchill: I’m pretty sure this is a silent film. Fuck me twice.
Everchill: Take a pic. Tell her its for a guy watching a fucking silent movie who might off himself at any minute.
Everchill: The least you fucks could do is send pics of wool
Everchill: Fuck.My.Black.And.White.Life.
Malibu Castle: The Artist? Not if we’re talking about base running.
Malibu Castle: More like the arsonist

Danger: Worst news ever: Morgan is on a date with someone from the Black Sox.
Danger: Worse news: he told her they beat us.
Danger: Fuck those guys.

Laser: Fraser state your position
LG: What?
LG: I have to decide between you or Tom? Easy. You bc you’re my boy and Tom can handle the rejection.
Consulting: I can totally understand the call

Malibu Castle: Dan!! I can’t believe you think I don’t like Homosexuals!!!

Danger: I’m at Safeway. Had to pay 20 bucks for plan b. use caution when drunk and having sex in your shower.
Danger: fml
Sneaky Pete: Thata boy Hirsch. L’chaim
Danger: I almost knocked an ugly chick up. Oh noo

Consulting: I still can’t believe that guy stayed at the table with all of the madness that was encroaching upon his personal space. Awesome

Malibu Castle: Reading all the blogs. Todd boned a chick in a bathroom?
Toddamus: She was awesome. Left sleeve tattoos and multiple private piercings. The magic happened to “blue jeans and white t-shirts.” Best 27 seconds of my life.
Ba(Na)2 Bread: Gives new meaning to “hittin the ham” huh?
Laser: Uh. Gives it its first meaning to me. Never heard of that
Daniels: Likewise

Email Fun!
LG: Fuck you Conner, you're wasting your talent by not participating. And don't act like you're above this shit, you lived in your car.
Bradley Cooper: slashing pucks with danger in la mission. #irony #slumpbusters. yearning to get on the shitter twitter.(rizzo currently being rizzo. full leather, gold, yankee hat, 4 loco)
Bradley Cooper: That guy bleeds Italiano!

Daniels: That guy bleeds doubles off the wall
Malibu Castle: And he just bleeds from sliding on the turf trying to get to 3rd base on a 4th out.

*Save the Date*
Official Tsunami Team Outing: Jenna Jameson at The Gold Club Thursday Aug 2 at 7pm.
Posted by Brother Mouzone on 07/20 at 09:00 AM

Friday, July 13, 2012

Jon Danger Hirsch doesn’t give a fuck about two months ago

Jon Danger Hirsch doesn’t give a fuck about two months ago, he lives in the here and now. A game blog from May? Please. Whole families of herpes have moved from under his yellowed, muddied Jockeys to Rizzo’s pencil stache in less time. So let’s let LG catch us up to 3/4 of a season and get back to real time: Cuba, hookers at fishbowl, trannies at Circa, Hirsch comment of the year, LG pregame week tirades on here, Jim’s pot tragedy, Abbott bomba, my cat-like barehand, Cam’s hook slide, screeching cunt fans, ba(na)2, Bradley cooper outbursts, Abbotts mid STRIDE outburst.
Yep, that about does it.

The rest is just details:

Tsunami 11, Black Sox 2
Please, your grumpy veteran right fielder does not like suggestions on his outfield positioning. But in retrospect, the extended mid-play ball-chasing bird made it all worthwhile.

Tsunami 12, Black Sox 2
How do you teach that ball who’s boss? Throw it into the ground, motherfucker! Give that bitch a taste of the turf. (yes, I know this was actually game 1, with Rizzo covering first, but nothing at all happened game 2). Oh shit, I almost forgot: there was this: My name is Kirby Daniels, and I’m a rally killer. And my name is Black Label, and I’m a rally killer. (even if Omaha correctly pointed out he was balking)

Tsunami 13, Blue Claws 4
It doesn’t matter if the wool has big boobies and a purple dress, you guys. If the wool sounds like Fran Drescher riding a seatless bike down a cobblestone hill, she’s not worth it. PASS.

Phitans 3, Tsunami 0
My name is Rizzo, and I’m a rally-killer.
My name is Black Label, and I’m a rally-killer.

Tsunami 2, Sea Lions 1
Wait, that’s a fair ball. WHAT? How is that ball foul? THAT’S A FAIR BALL! FAIR BALL! HOW IS THAT BALL FOUL?

Tsunami 13, Sea Lions 4
My name is Jake Taylor, and I’m a rally-killer. (Of course, this one isn’t fair. The truth is the umpire totally fucked Coach over. Totally. Truthfully. For real. I’M BEING DEAD FUCKING SERIOUS HERE, YOU GUYS. THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NO WAY COACH SHOULD BE EXPECTED TO TAKE ONE MODICUM OF RESPONSIBILITY FOR GETTING CAUGHT STEALING FIRST. None. Let’s just drop this. I’m so sick of you guys not getting the point. AND THERE’S NO WAY COACH WOULD AIR OUT A TEAMMATE IN THE SAME POSITION. None. Moving on.)

Tsunami 3, Dons 2
Tom is the worst. Tom is the best. (note: he’s still the worst)

Tsunami 10, Benders 3
Every time you sleep with a midget, you get an infield single.

Benders 7, Tsunami 1
The one solid single? Outlaw Chu. Fuckin A right, buddy. The only other single? Daniels. (yikes)

Apologies To . . .
Tu-Lin surfing all over Moscone basepaths like Kelly Slater . . . Rizzo dominating Black Sox, Sea Lions and Benders in just under 800 pitches . . . Lawn walk-off versus Sea Lions . . . Coach going yard . . . Candidate for defensive play of the year: Lawn walk-off dive and throw for DP vs. Dons . . . Black Label unconscious hitting every game . . . Toddamus/Tu-Lin back-to-back doubles to erase Black Label’s baserunning trouble vs. Dons . . . Daniels current five-game hit streak . . . Coach perfect clutch throw to third for DP vs. Dons . . . Bradley Cooper and Toddamus BOTH covering bag, receiving throw, blocking runner . . . Danger jamming vs. Sea Lions . . . Tu-Lin hitting ball onto Lincoln Ave. vs. Sea Lions, thrown out at third . . . Tu-Lin intentionally walked!. . . Toddamus boning Jersey Shore-like whore in bathroom at The Gaslight Anthem concert. . . Black Label falling apart at SS, but hitting a double after every single error (decent trade) . . . HE PUT HIS HANDS UP AND HE SAID HE THREW THE BALL . . . Did Connor just come? . . . Black Label only one with energy to get us rallying vs. Sea Lions . . . Daniels showing off bod versus Sea Lions . . . Danger looking good behind a PBR can . . . LG shutout at Kan-Jam . . . Utter Toddamus/Daniels Kan-Jam dominance . . . LLLLLLLLLuuuunnnnddddyyyy . . . frustrated Black Label beaning innocent pedestrian with shoe . . . (For The Readers: Have I missed anything?)

Now that all that is finally over, Let’s Travel Together On Tsunami Twitter Shitter, Shall We, And See What We’ve Learned This Season?

The 2012 Tsunami Know MLB:

Quinoa: Chipper fucking jones.
Daniels: Professional hitter.
Autocorrect: And hooter waitress impregnator.

Daniels: Pujols coming up with the biggest set of HR blue balls in MLB history.
Coach Taylor: Best 42 y/o season on the books tho.
Rizzo: Check the Pujols profile o my site. The elephant balls should match nicely with this horse cock.

Rizzo: I just don’t get what you guys see in sports. I’ll take the Kardashians all day.

Autocorrect: Weaver at 87-89 throws a no no. I think Fraser should make a comeback. Kenny Powers style!

Rizzo: This woman in the waiting room is white fucking noise. Thank god they just called her in. I was about to go all delmon young on her hass.
Black Label: Nahh go dimitri young . . . as she’s going by just CRACK with a bat.
Rizzo: I think you’re referring to Randall Simon
Black Label: Ahh yes… The idea still remains . . . Hit and run.

Black Label: Any of you fellas heard of this Josh Hamilton kid? Decent looking swing, he could be a player someday.
LG: Must’ve backdoored a groupie.
Black Label: Or a Viking. That’s what the greeks do.

Auto: Just at doctor’s. Height 5’8 weight 197lbs. Paul LoDuca plays for the Tsunami! Auto: Woulda been taller but my Dad pulled put.

Auto: We should sign Jamie Moyer. Just got released.
Daniels: He’s a year older than Consulting tho
Coach Taylor: And I throw harder
Toddamus: False

Daniels: Cano should wear earplugs and have his mom throw next time.
Rizzo: They quoted him after saying he was having trouble seeing his dads bp cuz it was coming in so much harder than Bruce Chen's.

The 2012 Tsunami Know Women

Vinnie Chase: This girl just told Rizzo he blew it
Vinnie Chase: And he did the dance
Rizzo: Whatever

LG: Surprising Tom has garnered so many nicknames and none involve butt sex. God does work in mysterious ways.
Daniels: You talking about Back Door?

Auto: On the shuttle next to a humongous chick right now that smells like locker room. Should I get the team out of our slump?
Danger: We talking rally hog size?
Auto: Yeah rally hog size. Thanks for sitting next to me sweetheart. Now my face is pressed against the class.

Consulting: Bernice is badass
Consulting: She performs….. Hardcore
Consulting: Confirmed
Consulting: She I’d fucking 86
Consulting: Is that is. Autocorrect
LG: Is Jim saying he would bang Bernice? Can we get a ruling on the field here?
Consulting: She is hot
Consulting: Seriously. Could imagine an 86 year old vagina?
Consulting: That’s hogging
LG: Lot of history there

Rizzo: Been thru 2 world wars
Consulting: Could you even imagine. She came out of a vagina shorty after WW1
Consulting: Fucking WW. Prussia and shit

Rizzo: You’re talking Model T pussy
Consulting: Ya buddy

Auto: Whoaaaa hahaahahaha. Just opened this up. Not to mention what big red could probably do once she took out her teeth and went to town

Auto: The x ray said Chlymidia? Weird!

Taylor: Who hit in the 2-hole last night?
Daniels: I hogged on pornhub
Taylor: Daniels jumped on a virtual grenade!

Taylor: Bananas smell bad
Danger: So do vaginas but you don’t hear me complaining when I get some that’s moist.

Autocorrect: My kitchen smells like an old lady farted piss.

Danger: Sluts work. The bigger the better.
Black Label: We got some OK looking fattties that just walked in.
Black Label: Hirsch I said FATTIES

Rizzo: That was one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen in sf. Yes she looked like a hooker. Yes I find hookers extremely attractive.

Rizzo: Refried beans and baby corn. What’s the saying? The way to a woman’s heart is thru her colon.

Black Label: Sadly I have to say Sal was completely right… No girl that hot will ever be fucked up enough or dumb enough to sleep with me.

Auto: Btw there is nothing better than watching baseball on the 4th of July. Unless you are watching baseball while getting a blowjob on the 4th of July

Lawn: I watched 4 lesbians on top of a bus stop finger bang each other Saturday night. Not quite the same as u see online. A little dissapointed.

Danger: I was balls deep in a old fashioned NYC Jewish rally hog last night so I did my part. Come on you guys.

Autocorrect: Fuck let's go boys. Tom buttfuck something for the game winner. (Editor’s Note: Tom hit HR next inning.)

Fuck The Baseball!: I just yelled "wool here" in a hotel lobby. I think they missed the point... They all looked at me, not the "scenery". Weird...

LG: Where is the embarrassment of blog riches that was promised btw?!
Black Label: Agreed. There hasn't been adequate public humiliation of my social life in a while
LG: Seriously. Just a bunch of recycled quotes from old movies and a couple of volume shooters laying a house made of bricks.

Toddamus: You can't get pregnant from special no hitter sex

Danger: I got hustled out of 40 bucks by two whores from Reno. They said they were Australian and I look like Channing tatum. Waschoe county hookers are the wooorrrrsssstt.

The 2012 Tsunami Know Racism

Rizzo: I’m all in on squirts tonight.
Taylor: I heard you were seeking purple vag.
Auto: I’ve beer had chocolate but I want a taste so bad

Auto (3 hours later): Wow. Glad this is group me and not twitter.

Daniels: Im packing and leaving for the baseball mecca tomorrow
Vinnie Chase: Cubrir su pendejo
Daniels: Abre su mente

Auto: I love how my autocorrect turns “tons” into “Tina” but yet it leaves Dildo alone
Auto: As in “the bachelor dildo’d Tina who’s real name was Lashawda”
Black Label: No autorcorrect suggestions for Lashsawda I see
Auto: Apparently my phone is black

Auto: And Hirsch that is the best comment of the day. Jews are born funny like black guys are born fast. The same way my Mexcian ass can get a girl pregnant by looking her in the eye.

LG (12:45 AM): N##### pimp just tried to cramp my style…if u think that’s happening u got another one coming
LG (12:47 AM): Sorry I’m not sorry about the racial terms. I will racially discriminate equally.
LG (2:21 PM): Apologize for the N bomb last night.

Auto: Fuck I’m more late than a Mexican teenager, Almost there boys.

Autocorrect: At an Indian Casino in Roseville. This is the exact opposite of Avicii. No wool and nothing but rednecks, degenerates, and gambling old asian people
Autocorrect: $225 up. I'll take these engines money all day baby.
Autocorrect: And throw in a chew of redman just to be a dick!

Daniels: FYi: the asian morgan doppelganger works at tokyo gogo
Hot, you guys
Coach: I miss morgan
Rizzo: I miss puddles

Autocorrect: That one chocolate face looked bigger than Bo Jackson. They had some other guys that looked solid too.

The 2012 Tsunami Know Friendship

Rizzo: Hey Tom are you saving those chips that are still on the couch from the burritos we bought last Saturday or do you mind if I throw them out?

Daniels: Carozz pls confirm you were wearing a tucked in shirt last night!
Back Door: He’s not even awake.
Rizzo: Fuck you Hirsch

Fuck Those Gusys: A missing Rizzo, an emotional Daniels, and Abbott wandering around talking to himself . .. They sure did put us in a fog yesterday huh??

Auto: So my girlfriend wakes up and goes “holy shit I had a dream that Fraser realized he was gay after he kissed a guy”
Auto: My response: I’ve known that for awhile.

Daniels: Laser you sick fuck you bought my tent
Rizzo: I didn’t have butt sex I swear

Rizzo: The double donga!? What the fuck did I do to deserve this guys?!
Rizzo: I’m blaming it on Tom either way.
Black Label: Rule #2 of 3: it’s always Tom’s fault.
Auto: Wow I’m wearing it right now
Rizzo: Sal clearly doesn’t understand how the program works.

Rizzo: And btw I’m calling a glass company today to come fix the door in our apartment that you shattered. And you’re paying for it. I’ve given you 5 weeks.
Black Label: Completely fair

Black Label: That recipe is a goddamn family secret!!!

Danger: Didn’t OD. Been resting up in my masterbatorium for tsunami party tm. I miss the shit out of you guys. I’m free after sundown tomorrow night.
Rizzo: He’s back!
Danger: Or if anyone wants to get cultural tomorrow I’ll be hosting challah and blow at my house.
Danger: I mean challah and brisket
Danger: Wait no I don’t

Black Label: Consulting, bring beer (me, I have cash to repay you so don't be stingy) and weed (Daniels and Rizzo)

Black Label: No other takers for the tickets?
Rizzo: Sorry Tom. All booked up. Currently getting high as the northern lights then from 5-6 fappin under my roommates covers then problem drinking from 6 to close.
Rizzo: Booked solid.

Danger: I’m not ready to hear Abbott bitch about being hungover after having a glass or two of really expensive whiskey when I shitcan plastic flasks of whiskey every weekend. Sorry just won’t have it you guys.

Quinoa: New guy has a Xmas wreath on his front door. Good or bad?

LG: I’m anything but sweet but I’d take the ball before or after you any day, just as long as we got to war together
Auto: Wow Fraser really gobbled the cock there

LG: Shut up Tom, I see you typing

Rizzo: LG, I'm ready to party. I'm in the mish alone though cuz Hirsch said let's party then made dinner plans

Coach: May all your siblings fuck hogs with republican hippie parents with no sense of their own ironic retardation.

Rizzo: Tom. We can never. Ever. Eat those wings again.

Rizzo: Hey Tommy quit spelling everything correctly I have no fucking idea what you're saying.

LG: Dan missed Abbott's bomba, Rizzo absent for Tom's yahtzee. This means I'm due next time Tommy misses a game to go raving, right?

Rizzo: Toms hit some big home runs in his career. Fucked some real uggos too.

Autocorrect: If we played a game without a base running mistake that would defy quantum physics and tear a hole in the universe
Autocorrect: But I'll settle for Tom D tear holes in buttholes and hitting game winning hits! That a baby!
Lawn: He's tearing midget butt holes
Daniels: He will live Forever

Black Label: Abbott has a fetish for Loren's bowel movements. #Abbottfacts

Autocorrect: We should ease Steve in on the group me. He seems like a nice upstanding guy. He might run for the hills

Autocorrect: Abbot could totally jerk off to Fraser's picture tonight

Autocorrect: I saw at our BBQ we have two races. Our "fast guys" and all the Jake Taylors
Jake Taylor: There is nothing tragic about my wheels.
Autocorrect: My strategy is to have Dan throw his hands up and tell you it's a false start so Ivan run away with it

Danger: Listen you guys. I just got home from work. Sorry I didn't get back to you tommy but I just turned down a fat line primo booger suger cause I know we have to play 2 tomorrow. If that's not dedication then I don't don't what is. I fucking love you guys. Abbott bring a bucket of water tomorrow morning.

Black Label: Can anyone confirm (1) Tommy is alive or (2) if he's incarcerated? This lack of response is beginning to cause concern.
LG: Be careful what you wish for. I fully anticipate a nauseating flurry of annoying EDC texts, FB updates, and emails about how EPIC the underage rave was and how much electronic music fills his soul with ecstasy.

Rizzo: Wish someone could hang out at sfo with me so I didn't feel like such a piece of shit.

The 2012 Tsunami Know Work

Autocorrect: I’m being pretty productive at work today and it’s dri
vin me nuts. Distraction please!!!!

Autocorrect: This is text message exchange with me and an old coworker. This is why I liked my last job so much better than this pussy tech shit
Him: (1/2)
No shit. Th (2/2)
At is why chicks get wildly jealous . . . they know that if there is a willing mout/pussy that a dude is gonna pop off.
A cat can only take so
much from a (2/2)
mouse before the cat has to kill that cunty mouse. Promise.
Me: hahahahaahaha!!!!!!
Me: he can stop chasing pussy but if it chases (1/2)
us . . . . “ah pulled (2/2)
A hamstring”
Him: Yeah… odd that my dick gets hard for just any bitch that wants it to.
Him: I once new a slutty chick that claimed (1/2)
she had ne (2/2)
ver seen a limp dick bc dudes were hard whenever it was whipped out. Kind mad sense.
Him : God. That slut had some tits too.
Him: I hope (1/2)
this entire tx (2/2)
t exchange gets posted on a billboard.
Rizzo: This is an abomination Sal.
Autocorrect: I forwarded the entire text. It formatted weird because it’s group me.
Rizzo: All I know is a mouse fucked a cat.

Auto: I have no idea how I am at my office right now. Vegas definitely won that fight!

Daniels: Cmon boys keep the posts coming. I’m dying at a violin and cello recital.
Auto: That sounds like I’d rather pop Tex Damn than go to that.

Autocorrect: Reason #500 why My office reminds me of when I played for the Baysox. Eating a team lunch and I say " yeah they should stock up the kitchen with 5 hour energy so we don't get food comas" And guy next to me says " what if you took 5 at the same time, I mean there's only 24 hours in a day so it would defy quantum physics and you might put a hole in the universe" Everyone dies laughing like its a Fraser quote. I replied "try taking 5 packets of bath salts."

Autocorrect: No. I would rather text you guys than join in the conversation taking place at the next table on my lunch break

Coach: Are we all shitting at the same time?

The 2012 Tsunami Know Demon Spawn

Rizzo: At the docs trying to talk him into stickin a needle in me to deftertilize my demon scapula spawn.
Daniels: Guest blogger: demon spawn.
Auto: That thing looks like the little guy in Total Recall Coming out the stomach . . .”Quaid ……. Quaid !!!”

Rizzo: Tried to stick a needle in it.
Rizzo: It bled but nothing really newsworthy.
Quinoa: Pics or it didn’t happen
Auto: I just threw up . . . why didn’t the doc drain baby Quaid?
Quinoa: Hung dam lives to see another day

Rizzo: Wasn't a pimple dick it was the devil's spawn because my cut fastball that day was from hell.

Danger: Was there a little after-shock puss left in the tent after the initial mount saint hung eruption?

Rizzo: Also, Abbott, if I hadn't lined the basepaths till 4 am with danger the evening before then let hung dam serve up cockshots in his swan song outing we would have won by 8. There is but one person to blame for that and he burst in Boonville.

The 2012 Tsunami Know The Truth

Coach: We need an exorcism of the second base bag

The 2012 Tsunami Know Fitness

Taylor (12:41 pm): Goin for a run. Hope I don’t die.
Taylor (1:35 pm): Run complete. 4 miles. Still alive. I could drink 1,000 beers you guys.
Quinoa: You averaged 10 minutes per mile.

LG: Where do I begin? First off this has been a most enjoyable thread, especially considering the fucking wasteland it’s been since we had an actual game and gave a fuck. Your welcome for the compliment btw. Second, Hirsch just chimed in with the fucking quote of the year, honoring a long tradition of funny Jews. Third, are we getting back to winning games, taking names, wearing jorts, blowing lines, and telling everyone else to suck it like we used to? BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I FUCKING SIGNED UP FOR!!!

Worth A Second Look

Coach Taylor: Bananas smell bad
Danger: So do vaginas but you don’t hear me complaining when I get some that’s moist.

These Things Were Said, Too, But Out Loud or Email:

Cooper: “I just can’t get enough Salvaterrio, man. Ah, he’s like a drug.”

Cooper: “Tommy’s in Vegas? This team is an absolute mess.”

Tu-Lin: “Games I will miss: July 14th. July 28th. August 4th. I will be back for the playoffs though. After 10 days of boozing in Mexico. I hear that settles one in the box though.”

Cooper: Just wake up and get through the day. That’s my philosophy. Just grind.”

Cooper: “Moving out of my car next Sunday, man. My life is on the up and up.”

Your Little Known Tsunami Historical Fact of the Week:
The silver lining to Coach’s CS-1B? Omaha Morton: still the only Tsunami with a successful S-1B. Against the Benders, no less. Two years ago.

Your Wire Quote of the Three-Quarter Pole:

“I think you play in the dirt, you get dirty.” Jimmy McNulty.
Posted by Tsunami34 on 07/13 at 08:50 AM

Wednesday, July 04, 2012

John Danger Hirsch doesn’t give a fuck about his personal hygiene

John Danger Hirsch doesn't give a fuck about his personal hygiene, gentlemen, but he does care about team unity, sacrifice, support and good baseball karma.  And your hygiene.  So Danger will not abide us skirting the issue:  jock itch is a yeast infection.  Ok?  Same thing as the ladies, yeah, just what happens on innies vs. outies.  So don't blame the jorts. Clearly the jorts had momentum, rally and heart.  Just too bad Autocorrect's and Vinnie Chase's yeast infections prevented them from jorting with the rest of the team.  Chronic bad karma.  Thanks for failing to unite with your team and pissing off the baseball gods who then sent us umpires who got rejected from Tulane.
Fog 4, Tsunami 3
We blew it.

Fog 15, Tsunami 14
We  blew it.  But then we unblew it.  Then we blew it again.  But then we couldn't unblow it enough.

For The Team
Jake Taylor:  That infield had been looking to hit somebody all day, and finally it was Coach who had the courage to stand up and head-butt it right in the eyes between first and second base. Learn, dirt. Back off next time.

Bump Kings
There are no hill heroes in a loss.

Big Hot Sticks
See Bump Kings.

Glove Kings
See Sticks, Big Hot.

We suck at running the bases, you guys. Suck. We’re not even close to poor, bad or underwhelming. We tease and taunt and tickle and then polish and swallow a big fat baserunning dick. Fact. Both games could’ve been won without two players getting doubled off of second on hits to the outfield.

Saying let’s got station to station, be conservative, having LG yell at everyone don’t seem to work. So let's try a new approach and have a fun review of Tsunami stealing Base Cuatro over the years.

Tsunami with NON-effective SFNABA steals of home:

2010: Jake Taylor, perhaps confusing the characters of Major League, putting a bright bow on a 22-3 loss to end the 2010 season with Danger at bat, two outs, 2-0 count.  Situation: Danger's third at-bat of the season.  Catcher tagged him, well, let’s say closer to home than third. Money quote, Danger: "Are you SERIOUS, MIKE?"

2011: Laser, at Moscone, in the sandbox. Almost safe. Very close play.  Definitely ten feet closer to home than Coach Taylor.  Situation:  bases loaded, two outs, down 1.  Guy who looks a lot like Bradley Fucking Cooper at the plate. Money quote, Danger: "DON'T SWING, DON'T SWING! DON"T SWING!"  

Tsunami with effective SFNABA steals of home:

2007: Daniels.  Callahan had the slowest wind-up in the league and Daniels had just been traded by Rowe to the Artichoke Joe’s of San Bruno for one game. No player to be named later. Daniels, with five game sfor the Tsunami under his belt, was none to happy with Old Quinoa Rowe about the trade and decided to hit a triple onto the softball field at Moscone. He then looked Strong Wang square in the eye and requested the green light if his former and future teammate Callahan went from the windup. As anyone who’s found themselves at the bottom of a pack of Chesterfields in a San Bruno casino come daybreak can attest, Wang does not shy away from the gamble. “Go,” was all he said. Safe by a mile. Fuck you, Tsunami. FU, Rowe. Artichoke Joe’s 4, Tsunami 3.

These Things Were Said Somewhere in the Tsunami Stratosphere Sometime Remotely Close to This Game

Carozza:  “Embrace your hogs, boys, they will feed you come winter.”

Black Label: “I'm not sure I agree. If he was stealing home, why is there no panicked screaming of "DON'T SWING!! DON'T SWING!!!!" by the runner as he comes down the line??

Autocorrect:  “So since we're having a "I fucked a fat chick.....not anonymous" meeting I figured I would show you the fat pig I roasted. We nicknamed her Margaret Chow.”

Autocorrect: “I also know Frasers worst moment. She has orangutang titties and bug eyes.”

Autocorrect:  “Jason Hirsch is to the Marina as Tommy Salvatierra is to the Mission.”

Danger:  “Fuck you Timmy Salvatierra”

Autocorrect: “I feel like this team is helping solve some inter SF neighborhood hatred.  It's like remember the titans . . . . . except we're all white.”
Posted by Tsunami34 on 07/04 at 09:08 PM

Friday, May 04, 2012

Wood Goes Limp, Banana Bread Delightful

Following up last week’s game/blog/assplay is not something I’ve been looking forward to. The storylines, the drama, the history, and the eloquence--there can be no match. But I’m not the next Daniels, I’m the first Laser Show. I have tried and true ways of doing business and I plan to stick to them: dick references and abrasive, unrelenting slander of the Last Great American Rebel Cattle Driver, Banana Bread.
Autocorrect on the eve of the game: “Last week we punched the bully right in the fucking face and stole his lunch money. Tomorrow we fuck his fried (friend) up too to be the new big swinging dicks!”

And so swung the dicks. A baker’s dozen worth of knocks. All Tsunami in the hit column (Toddamus notwithstanding, due to questionable priorities). Rowdy fans cackling in delight at the Wood’s misfortune. Autocorrect sending his warmest regards to the softballers for a stand-up single (next time call a Towncar). Everchill even smiled once, though I have no evidence.

Toddamus: “My stomach is a little confused, but I really like Amelia.”

The Tsunami ran the bases with wreckless abandon--calling on their signature lack of baseball instincts, marginal speed, diminishing coordination, and refusal to dirty their pants, to the tune of 9 runs.

Autocorrect: “Tom has taken 2 hours to drink one beer.”
Everchill: “He’s a well-known vag.”

Brother Mouzone aka Hacksaw was back to his usual tricks, whiffs and kindling for 6 innings, punishing the Wood to the point of chafing. Laser Show serenading his newborn demon spawn, Hung Dam, to pass the time. Banana Bread and Father Frankel play some fetch with Everchill (part 1 of that play was outstanding, T). Fielding is just boring, though.

With Laser Show fighting the demons of a mutant alien exorcism in his throwing arm in the 7th, Jon Danger Hirsch took the ball, shut the door. Mixing a Richard Simmons-esque slider with an ironic fastball through three innings, beating the Wood mercilessly. 9-3 W. 4-0. Great view.

Bump Kings:
Hacksaw: 6 ip, 13 k’s, 5 hits, 0 er, 1 backpeddler, 6 other bored fielders
Danger: 3 ip, 4 hits, 1 er, 7 mildly amused fielders

Banana Bread: 2-5, run, rbi
Cooper: 1-3, 2 runs, 0 practice cuts since I’ve known him, looks that kill
Frankel: 1-1, no soft-toss necessary
Autocorrect: 1-3, 2b, 2 rbi, run, SAC fly

Bottom feeders, fastball lovers:
Everchill: 1-3, Pissrod City, rbi,great eyesight at first base
Laser Show (w/Hung Dam): 2-3, 2 runs, great taste in music

On notice:

Stock Rising:

From the Enemies Perspective:
“At least they let us play 9.”

Glove Kings:

Lawn (1), Daniels (1), L. Show (2) Lets get back to running, shall we?

For the team:
Cooper, Autocorrect, Everchill (fuck those guys!)

Dick move:
Danger funneling banana bread, depriving others of its divinity, though it was his first solid meal in weeks.

Backpeddling Banana Bread, post-game pizza waiter’s flat jokes, sluggishness

The most shocking thing you’ll see this Saturday:
Hyphen’s driver’s license photo

Memorable Quotes:

Nederostek Consulting: “I want the first batter I face this season to be Autocorrect.”

Tom’s Viking Quest: “From the back? Oh she’s stupid. Oh that hurts. That’s what the Greek’s do.”

Autocorrect’s Craigslist Ad if we win the ‘ship: “When you reach the end of level one, make sure to trigger the fireworks. This is vital to the entire experience. I must hear the fireworks.”

More from Craigslist Ad: “I will continue having sex until the level ends. DO NOT take the secret level skip. If you die I will pull out and spank you until the level restarts.”

Autocorrect: “Yesterday Tom informed me that he had a 1.5 year slump in college. Didn’t know that was possible.
Everchill: “In our generation we just called that the 90s.”

Radio Host (to Oil Can Boyd): “Do you think you would have had a better career if you hadn’t smoked so much crack?”
Oil Can Boyd: “It don’t work that way.”

Hyphen: “I’m the love-child of Tulo and J. Lin.”

Autocorrect: “And if I had a 12 inch dick I’d be a pornstar.”

That is all. Hog the Fog. Jorts mandatory.
Posted by Rizzo on 05/04 at 09:01 PM

Thursday, April 19, 2012

The 2012 edition of The San Francisco Tsunami is sponsored by Dollar Shave Club

The 2012 edition of The San Francisco Tsunami is sponsored by Dollar Shave Club. Dollar Shave Club couldn’t be simpler. Select one of their great razors, pay one low monthly fee, and they'll send ‘em right to your door. No more over-paying for fancy brand name shave tech. No more forgetting to buy your blades. Honoring our sponsor, here is an estimate of how often each Tsunami needs to shave (I guess you could also consider this a masculinity scale, from least to most):

Every February 29th (Infant Division):
Tom D'Antono
Todd Emr

With the Time Change (Denial Division):
Mike Abbott (current whiskers are four years in the making)

On Full Moons (Nice-Guy Division):
Matt Rowe
Walt Morton

Before Going to the Marina (non-Hipster Division):
Connor Buestad
Pete Lawn (eligible for one division only)
Loren Fraser

Daily (People I'm afraid to offend):
Jim Nederostek
Ken Hale
Vic Chu
Cameron Yuen-Shore

Despues de Speaking Spanish (Bi-Lingual Division):
John Ratto
Dan Larson
Tommy Salvatierra

Both Sunrise and Sunset (Jewish Division):
John Hirsch
Tamir Frankel

After Eating (Wookie Division):
Mike Carozza
Posted by Tsunami34 on 04/19 at 01:57 PM

Jon Danger Hirsch doesn’t give a fuck about the precise time Matt Foley wants him to play baseball

Jon Danger Hirsch doesn’t give a fuck about the precise time Matt Foley wants him to play baseball.  He’ll get there when he damn well feels like it.  He’s on JPT.  He and Lawn both.  Just be glad he brought a belt and a pair of socks he hasn’t recently made love to.

Oh, and do you really think Danger gives a fuck about the Gamecocks batting order? Go ahead, try to tell him it’s easier to get out the 9-hole hitter (contact-less in three previous at-bats) than it is to walk him before having to face the top of the order with men on base and the game on the line. Good fucking luck. Enjoy his vaguely jaundiced stare in response. Then watch the mound results that let you know he’ll do things his way, on his schedule, often with his best friend in the same room. Tag team!

Tsunami 4, Gamecocks 2
Brother Mouzone could probably use a little run support, fellas. There was that one good line drive by Lawn, but nobody was on base. Then Jake Taylor did rip one to left, but again, not with RISP. Instead we’ll settle for bloopers by Hyphen and Taylor to plate the four-pack of runs. Of course we still won, all thanks to the pitching. Stop spoiling us, Bro Mouzone, we’re not going to learn if our bad habits are reinforced with positive results!

Bump Kings
Brother Mouzone: 7 innings, 3 hits (zero hard), 1 earned run, 1 HBP, 1 BB, 12 Ks

Danger: 2 innings, 2 hits, 1 earned run, 3BB, 2 Ks

Big Hot Sticks
Everchill (Jake): 1. Hardest hit ball of the day. 2. An even bigger hit, importance-wise, just a wee bit into the outfield, but just when we needed it—driving in the decisive winning runs.

Frankel: Frozen rope down the right field line, sparking 8th inning mini-rally.

Lawn: Sure the CF froze, then came in, froze, then came in some more. The ball was crushed. Double. We need more of these.

Glove Kings
Ratto: It would take too long to describe. You had to be there. If you weren’t, you know what it was like, you’ve seen this dude do his thing before.

0: Everyone afraid to steal off a lefty. And that Howitzer behind the dish.

For the Team!

One Dick Move
Gamecocks start “Jermiah #17.” Not on roster. Not registered with SFNABA. Naughty, naughty.

Two Varying Approaches, No Judgment
Mouzone: 7 innings pitched, 95 pitches
Danger: 2 innings pitched, 48 pitches

Nederostek Consulting ordering four chimichanguitas plates, two nachos, and two quesadillas at Cecilia’s. Finishing one chimi plate and one quesadilla.

Zero dugout music. Laser, delegate in your absence. Nobody plays good baseball tight.

Quote of the Week 1: Autocorrect: “I was a complete flake. But that's because his team is a bunch of nerds and cheese dicks that I didn't really want to be around. I don't see any of them asking to call Aaron, or sending pictures of a dog breaking out if a slump by fucking a pig, or getting stranded on 3rd base consistently by some hot chick named Morgan that I haven't met yet.” 

Quote of the Week 2: Autocorrect: “I was a flake because I was busy doing what all those Orange wearing uniform pussies can't do.........getting laid. That was 2008-2009 and Fraser can verify those were epic years to be single.”

Quote of the Week 3: Autocorrect: “Tom its 12:30 in Boston, shouldn't you be trying to get balls deep in some chick who's only known adjective is wicked?”

Quote of the Week 4: Buestad: “I’ll see you Sunday.” Hell yeah! And welcome back.

Quote of the Week 5: “Nerds and cheese dicks.” Some things are worth repeating.

Quote of the Week 6: Laser: “This girl is dumpy. But I’m desperate.”

Quote of the Week 7: Autocorrect: “I should stick to what I know . . . bars, towncars, and talking shit.”

Quote of the Week 8: Danger: “I’m trying to eat wings and suck on tit.”

Quote of the Week 9: Danger: “I’m trying to suck on wings and eat tit.”

Quote of the Week 10 (tie): Lawn: “Bumgardner may have the ugliest wife in MLB.” Lawn: “I love this synagogue.”

Quote of the Week 12: Autocorrect: “What’s ‘NR’ by my name mean?”
Daniels: “Non-runner.”
Autocorrect: “Oh yeah, well God did that. When I was born, he looked at me and then checked the box: non-runner.”

Quote of the Week12: Mouzone: “If you guys could hit as well as you text we’d be unstoppable.”

The Wire Quote of the Week:
Bunk Moreland: “I’m just a humble motherfucker with a big-ass dick.”
Lester Freamon: “You give yourself too much credit.”
Bunk: “Okay then. I ain’t that humble.”

Potential Reasons You Weren’t Recognized in Quote of the Week:
1. You’re not on Tsunami groupme (and be glad)
2. You have a day job that requires, well, job stuff
3. Autocorrect said five funnier things than you did

From the Enemy’s Perspective
Posted by Tsunami34 on 04/19 at 01:52 PM

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

San Francisco Tsunami:  No Longer the Fat Girl Anyone Can Fuck

The 2012 SF Tsunami have committed zero known parole violations since spring training. This year's edition, however, is much new and improved. Faced with an aging roster and championship window rapidly closing, team owner (and only league member to live through the Cuban Missile Crisis) Matt Rowe decided to push payroll beyond the luxury tax threshold in addition to ignoring the draconian league office draft slot bonus recommendations. Convinced it's the only way to prosper in the evermore competitive SFNABA, Rowe has dictated that all gloves, facades of pretense, and fans' soaking wet panties must come off in 2012. Newcomers this year include battery mates Loren Fraser and Tommy Salvatierra of the defunct but not forgotten Artichoke Joe's of San Bruno (Strong Wang, you live on in our hearts). Having played with each other for years, Fraser and Salvatierra display uncommon chemistry on the field and off, evident most clearly during the Tsunami's opening day victory over the Isotopes and the ensuing team debauchery. Also joining the Tsunami is Cameron Yuen-Shore, previously of the Diablos (and lifetime .897 hitter vs. the Tsunami). Cam is a nice, standup guy who's not sure how he wound up on this roster of hog-chasers and Roman bulldozers. He has agreed not to drink in public parking lots after games. Rounding out the offseason shopping for the Tsunami is Jim Nederostek. Jim does not appreciate this type of humor, so there is nothing funny to say about him.

Of course, in addition to Old Rowe, SFNABA groupies will recognize a few more veteran Tsunami faces still on the team. Laid back Mike Abbott returns as Manager. You won't catch him sweating unless there's no Racer 5 on tap. 2011 Co-Rookie of the Year Mike Carozza (also VP of Dugout Music) brings his weekly laser show back to CF, and Pete Lawn is still handsome in left despite all the late nights and fiber-less diet. Walt Morton was coaxed out of retirement to provide dugout candor and base hits, Ken Hale (league founder!) is back in the bullpen, as is Jon Danger Hirsch and a whole lot of penicillin. In the infield Tamir Frankel brings international tournament experience as well as a new parent's bloodshot eyes (welcome, Jack!). Vic Chu still wears the catcher's gear and is nicer than anyone you know. SS Todd Emr (Co-ROY), 2B Tom D'Antono and three-time Tsunami MVP John Ratto are all sleeping with the same seven girls, but only Tom has real feelings for them. Connor Buestad's whereabouts are unknown.

And on a final, serious note, the SF Tsunami have dedicated this season to one of the under-acknowledged working class heroes of the Bay Area: Aaron the Towncar Driver. This week's game, and this year's cumulative efforts, are for you, Aaron. May you inspire us to great heights.
Posted by Tsunami34 on 04/18 at 02:00 PM

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Jon Danger Hirsch doesn’t give a fuck about painted eggs, pink bunnies or ash-stamped foreheads

Jon Danger Hirsch doesn’t give a fuck about painted eggs, pink bunnies or ash-stamped foreheads.  He’s a member of the tribe.  The global, not Cleveland-based one.  So don’t come to him with your little cups of jellybeans, your Cadbury Creams, or your damned Opening Day 2012 versus the Isotopes on Passover.  Making Walter Sobchak proud, Danger wasn’t there for the follow up to last year’s second round playoff tilt versus the Topes on the same field that last season ended.  Fortunately, he didn’t miss much, as Laser Show’s thorough and efficient recap demonstrates…

Tsunami 2, Isotopes 1
Loren shoves. Cam rakes. Sal has a gun. Laser throws better than he catches. We’re good. Somebody call Aaron.

Bump Kings
Fraser: 7 innings, 1 hit, 1 unearned run, 1 BB, 9 Ks

Laser: 2 innings, 0 hits, 0 runs, 3 Ks

Big Hot Sticks
Hyphen: 2B. Total laser to left that melted the LF.

Everchill: Don’t call it a comeback. Robbed of results but the reward is knowing who hit the hardest ball of the day. Next time find a gap.

Glove Kings
Black Label: Several nifty plays up the middle in support of the No-No.

Toddamus: Deep into the hole, throwing to first with his hole barely off the ground.

Omaha: The ball will find you! In the game for the first time since 2010, Omaha was sent straight back for a Lex bomb to open up the 8th inning. No problem. Business as usual. Smoothly tracked and caught.

Autocorrect: Even if the guy was safe stealing second, the throw was so damn good the umpire got excited and wiped off the runner.

Black Label 1 (2nd base, 1st inning)

For the Team!
Daniels. Top of seventh. Right in the thigh. Didn’t even flinch. Lou’s hit me plenty of times before, he just had a different uniform on this time.

One Dick Move
Topes break up Fraser’s no-hitter in bottom of 7th with a leadoff bunt.
“Bush league!” Tommy says.
“I would’ve done it in a close game like that,” Coach Everchill says.
Who’s right? Bush League should be the name of a strip joint, I say.

Coach Everchill: “There was a no-hitter? I thought they had a hit early on.” Um, no.

Lawn: Picked off first with two on two outs, and By A Catcher! Being handsome doesn’t even start to make up for it. -4 in the larceny derby.

Quote of the Week 1: Autocorrect: “So the whole week we suck each other off on this group text and then we beat the fucking topes and the chatter stops?!?! Wtf.”

Quote of the Week 2: Autocorrect: “I don’t just make sex jokes and talk about coke. I also like economics. I do.”

Quote of the Week 3: Autocorrect: “Hirsh is Koufaxing us? He’s not Shawn Green!”

Quote of the Week 4: Autocorrect: “The Mission? What the hell I want to go the Mission and have sex with some ironic chick for?!?! Oh, you’re fucking me, yeah, it’s so ironic!”

Mid-week text of the week, post-game edition: Fraser: “Tommy’s string of autocorrect errors is DiMaggio-esque.”

The Right Move: Coach Everchill, in a controversial move, names Fraser the opening day starter. Some took it extremely well, like Laser who saved his bullets for a shutdown two-inning save. Some had a hard time believing the decision, like Nederostek Consulting: “Management decided he’s starting? Management decided?!?! Didn’t he see my one bullpen in my slacks and tennies? What more does he want?” Fortunately for Everchill, Fraser rewarded his decision with 7 innings of one-hit ball and zero earned runs. Though some say Nederostek Consulting wouldn’t have given up that hit.

From the Enemy’s Perspective
“Who the hell was that tall guy?”
Posted by Tsunami34 on 04/12 at 01:32 PM

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Maybe our second basemen isn’t stoned after all

Sometimes folks are just chill. Just relaxed, decent, hard-surfing folk.  This is good news for us, bad news for the rest of the league.

Tsunami 10 vs Phitans 0
Cementing its place atop the league’s green ratings, the 2011 Tsunami traveled to Stenzel Park with ten men in three cars.  Not too shabby, eh, Laverne? Eager to draw an even record of 3-3 for the season, the Tsunami followed Black Label’s lead with patient at-bats and opposite field hits to score early and often against the Phitans starter.  Second Base turned back the clock to 2010 and ripped RBI hits to gaps and foul lines, probably only missing a Modesty Derby lead-tying dinger because of the epic Roman wind blowing in across left.  Laser Show was apparently pitching from 50 feet away, or so it seemed to the Phitans.  First-inning jam escaped, Laser Show dominated remaining 8 innings like Danger does the late-night pickings at the 500 Club, striking out 14 in the complete game shutout.

Burritos 4, Tsunami 0
A great post-game showing was diluted only by the unexpected total dominance of the bread loaf-sized burros rolled out by our friends in San Leandro.  Respect to George Human Ruth for choosing great restaurant and to Godfather for leading us in direction of gorgeous twenty-ounce Lagunitas.  Total participation: nine!  That’s enough for three-on-three-on-three in the halfcourt.

The Right Move(s)
Everchill conceives flawless batting order, powerful and balanced from top to bottom.  Keeps Black Label in bullpen for 8 innings, where he should be.

Glove Kings
Rowe:  there’s no right-center gap when Rowe is in right.  Learn this, people!

(Laser Show double-play to end Phitans day at plate would be seen here if not for Laser Show trying to play 3rd base from pitcher’s mound in 7th: E-1)

Bump King
Laser Show: 8 IP, 14 Ks, 0 ER (that’s what they call a Bully’s Shutout)

Big Hot Sticks
Toddamus: 3-5, 3B, 4 RBI, 1 Walkoff RBI
Black Label: 3-4, 2B, BB, 3 RBI, 1 CS (whoops, wrong section)
Laser Show: 1-3, 2B (it still counts if the wind hustled it), 2 R, SB, BB, 
Second Base: 2-3, 2B, BB, One drive destined for the sand box ripped down by the wind.

Line of the Week
Daniels to Toddamus, before going up to plate with one out, bases loaded and chance for walkoff mercy rule hit:  “You’re not getting up.”  (popped out to deep shallow mid-second)

For the Team
Not a single motherfucker tough enough.

K Derby
Laser Show: 27 (well, that was a distance-maker)
Danger: 8
Ivy League: 10
Ratto: 6
Uno: 2
Black Label: 0

Habit Forming
Black Label:  tagged on jersey by an opposing infielder with ball in glove, not on a base.  Third time this season!  Not recommended.

Modesty Derby
Daniels: 1

Neck-Snap Derby
Laser Show: 2

Ripped, Robbed or Jobbed
Daniels: Was he safe at first on would-be infield single?  He was thinking about taking second!  JOBBED.

Second Base: Turned on inside fastball off Fernando Valenzuela’s nephew. Hit it right into the blowers behind left field fence.  Nothing going yard in that direction on this day.  RIPPED.

World Baseball Classic
Just A Letter
Ivy League

From the Enemy’s Perspective
What’s the name of your team, again? I honestly can’t even read that. This-sun-aim?

Laser Show 1 (5)

Larceny Derby*
Laser Show 5 it still counts, even if the ball gets by the catcher)
Daniels 4
Ratto 4*
Everchill 4
Black Label 3*
Chu 1
Buestad 1
*does not include pickoffs or caught stealing (to be tallied at midseason; CS = -1; pickoff = -4)

Postgame Thanks to the Scorer
Pitching Counts!  Yay!

Don’t Go Getting Our Hope UP
The triumphant birth of Runs Batted In!

Posted by Tsunami34 on 05/08 at 05:39 PM
(0) CommentsPermalink

Sunday, May 01, 2011

John Danger Hirsch doesn’t give a fuck if you don’t like the results

You think he does? Hell no, but Danger knows he gave it his all. Anyone else around here committing to pulling an eleventh-hour slumpbuster out of a shadowy BART car for the good of the team? Check YOUR commitment to the 2011 edition of the San Francisco Tsunami before you criticize.

Tsunami 3 vs Bay Sox 9
Ivy League brought his best effort of the season when the Tsunami needed it most. After escaping a first-inning, two-on, nobody-out jam, he cruised for four more innings until reaching his limit. The rookies brought the defense, Toddamus and Black Label smothering any ground snakes on the left side. The mighty Bay Sox, who ten-runned the Tsunami twice in a double-header last year, were held in check until finding momentum and confidence in a sixth-inning leadoff error. A couple relievers and one Laser Show twisted neck later, with Danger getting his leg work in across the softball fields, the Tsunami felt down two touchdowns. Coach Everchill broke up the league-MVP Botterman’s no-hitter in the fifth, at least, and Big Cat Uno returned from semi-retirement of hitting to go 2-4. Laser Show settled in after the rough start, and the top of the order rallied twice against Bay Sox relieve and former Tsunami Foley. We would’ve had them in game 2.

The Right Move(s)
Everchill gave the pill to Ivy League again, trusted him against the deep veteran Bay Sox lineup and was rewarded with

The Wrong Move (aka the trade of Kendrick Perkins)
Everchill pulls Danger for Laser Show, seemingly The Right Move considering Laser Show’s dominance vs. Topes, Red Giants and Aces and Danger’s two walks, one triple surrendered in relief of Ivy League. Still seemed like The Right Move when Laser Show had SFNABA legend (and former Tsunami) Kawasaki 0-2 with two outs and the bases loaded. But then a softball practice was interrupted on a nearby field.

Glove Kings
Black Label: Cookie Monster D at third. Clean sweeps of scud line drives and perfect bare-hand grab and chuck on dribbler off speedster.

Bump King
Ivy League: 5.1 IP, 5 Ks, 2 ER

Big Hot Sticks
Laser Show: 2-5, 3B, 2 R, SB
Big Cat Uno: 2-4
Daniels: 2-4, BB, R, SB, 2 RBI
Black Label: 1-4, 2B, RBI
Everchill: 1-4 (broke up no-no in 5th)

For the Team
Black Label: Don Fucking Baylor at this point. Wore a League MVP slider right in the soft spot of bone in center of left elbow. Just like they teach in college. And in the first inning again.

K Derby
Laser Show: 13
Danger: 8
Ivy League: 10
Ratto: 6
Uno: 2
Black Label: 0

Habit Forming
Just A Letter: tagged on jersey by an opposing infielder with ball in glove, not on a base. Second time this season. Not recommended.

Modesty Derby
Daniels: 1

Neck-Snap Derby
Laser Show: 2 (Not to worry, Grand Slams only count as one)

Ripped, Robbed or Jobbed
Danger: Shrunken zone for jort loogy reliever. No dice on consecutive two-strike counts. JOBBED.

G. H. Ruth

From the Enemy’s Perspective
Good thing we’re not playing throw out your best and your worst inning. Cause then we would have lost.

Daniels 1 (3)
Everchill 2 (3)
Ratto 3! (4)
Black Label 2 (3)
Chu 1 (1)
Buestad 1 (1)

Larceny Derby*
Daniels 4 (new leader!!!!!!!!!!!!!) (it doesn’t matter if they throw down, it still counts)
Laser Show 4
Ratto 4
Everchill 4 (it doesn’t matter if they hold you on, it still counts)
Black Label 3
Chu 1 (catcher steals should count double)
Buestad 1
*does not include pickoffs or caught stealing (to be tallied at midseason; CS = -1; pickoff = -4)

Repeated Postgame Thanks to the Scorer
Pitching Changes! Yay!

Just Forget It, At This Point
Posted by Tsunami34 on 05/01 at 05:38 PM
(0) CommentsPermalink

Monday, April 18, 2011

It’s too cheesy to talk about how foggy it was that dark Sunday to play the Fog

You won’t find that kind of low-hanging fruit picked here. Not gonna do it. Leave that to media interns.

Tsunami 16 at Fog 6
Ivy League! Hope for the front of the Tsunami rotation was generated with bounceback first inning after leadoff score, solid 3rd after rocky 2nd, and dominating 4th . . . The bats continued their Topes-induced slumber until top of 7th, when the Fog parted to allow 8 runs after Daniels roped a leadoff single to center, ultimately scoring twice in the bat-around inning . . . George Human Ruth ripping double down line for only solid (uncaught) Tsunami knock in 5th, plating only second big green run. Then ripping 0-2, two-out single to left to score Daniels and ignite 7-run inning . . . Hardaway being perfect pain at bottom of the order, singling and scoring twice . . . Toddamus collaring first ever 0 for 6 . . . Toddamus and Black Label fighting for top Web Gem only two outs apart . . . the dugout finally realizing that “we only get to play baseball once a week” and “these things tend to snowball,” finally catching fire against hardworking Fog starter and then dominating final innings with proper flair . . . First post-game celebration beyond the sad Daniels-Everchill pairing of the first two games: 9 total, including this year’s #1 fan. 500 Club, as if you didn’t know.

The Right Move(s)
Everchill gave the pill to Ivy League again, trusted him to work past second inning control issues. Got rewarded with best-looking innings of season in 3rd and 4th. Went to Danger to start 5th even though Fog had gone 1-2-3. Danger cruises through four.

Glove Kings
Toddamus: You don’t know how he got there. He doesn’t know how he got there. Somehow he dove and actually sped up, gained height in the ear. Pocketed a rocket headed for centerfield. With a ten-run, last-inning lead no less. In the cold. Respect.

Black Label: Did he Jim Edmonds it? Hell no. That was a full-speed, full-extension-required headfirst dive to warm up the fans. Though next time calling it would be appreciated by the infielders, among others.

Bump Kings
Ivy League: 4 IP, 4 Ks
Danger: 4 IP, 2 Ks, 2 ER

Fun Stuff Between Two Veteran Red-Asses
“Run out your fucking ground balls!”
“RUN OUT YOUR FUCKING GROUND BALLS NEXT TIME!” (goes to left fuming, commits error)

Big Sticks
George Herman Ruth, 2-5, 2B
Daniels, 2-6, 2 RBI, 2 R, SB
Hardaway, 2-5, 2 R
Everchill, 1-3, 2 BB, 2 R, 2 SB,
Black Label, 1-5, 2B, 2 SB

For the Team
Buestad: Not sure why. He wasn’t even throwing hard! Don’t you want to hit, son?

K Derby
The Scarlet Letter 12
Danger 8
Ivy League 5
Ratto 6
Uno 2

Habit Forming
Black Label: tagged on jersey by an opposing infielder with ball in glove, not on a base. Second time in three weeks. Not recommended.

Modesty Derby
Daniels 1

Ripped, Robbed or Jobbed
Daniels: pimp-slapped fastball to left to lead off 5th in attempt to spark dead offense. Robbed.

Toddamus: 0-2 center of the barrel missle to left field to lead off 2nd. Might have opened the floodgates. If it wasn’t directly at the only two feet of grass covered by the Fog’s left statue. Getting all of a last at-bat opportunity to avoid 0 for 6 but again choosing to hit a statue, this time in centerfield. Swing up, big fella, hit it over their heads. Robbed and then robbed.

Scarlet Letter (one-game suspension away from new nickname)

From the Enemy’s Perspective
You can’t keep a good team down. Not for 8 innings. Not, apparently, for seven. Sure felt like we had em for awhile. Felt like they were ready to go home. Felt wrong, I guess.

Daniels 1 (3)
Everchill 2 (3)
Ratto 3! (4)
Black Label 2 (3)
Chu 1 (1)
Buestad 1 (1)

Larceny Derby*
Ratto 4 (new leader!)
The Scarlet Letter 3
Daniels 3
Everchill 3 (it doesn’t matter how slide, the important thing is you get back up)
Black Label 3
Chu 1 (catcher steals should count double)
Buestad 1
*does not include pickoffs or caught stealing (to be tallied at midseason; CS = -1; pickoff = -4)

Postgame Thanks to the Scorer
Pitching Changes! Yay!

Incredibly Ignored Request For the Scorer
Posted by Tsunami34 on 04/18 at 08:54 AM
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Monday, April 11, 2011

Jon Danger Hirsch Doesn’t Give A Fuck About Timing, Baseball Has A Code.

Jon Danger Hirsch Doesn’t Give A Fuck About Timing, Baseball Has A Code. Jon Danger Hirsch is going to protect Tsunami hitters, and he will send that message at primetime on every channel when the maximum viewers are watching. You can’t hit our rookies. You wanna open the game hitting our leadoff man? Bookend, motherfuckers.
Tsunami 2 at Topes 3
Black Label kept his eye on the ball to leadoff 18 innings against the 17-time defending champions. Kept his eye on the ball the whole way until his nose got in the way . . . Daniels stepped up to a blood-speckled plate and dialed 1994 for a replay of his first time, turned on a low inside fastball and took off for second as it cleared the leftfielder. Ran a hard 120 feet before recognizing no one else was moving, he’d simply hit the ball too far. Raced the rest of the way around the bases anyway. Zero showmanship . . . Banished slicing one of only 5 team hits to right, stealing 3rd, scoring on Daniels’ 0-2 RBI single to left . . . Banished just overpowering, striking out 9 Topes in six innings, only giving up one home run (to the 10th hitter; happens to everyone, we’re told) . . . Topes getting second run on throwing error, final on Danger making a statement to close game . . . Nothing to be ashamed of here, against any team, much less the The LA Sparks of the SFNABA.

Tsunami 0 at Topes 14
It’s hard to get rookies to listen. Particularly when they idolize Paul O’Neill. Paul FUCKING O’Neill. So Banished (one paragraph away from a new nickname) doesn’t like the umps and doesn’t like that he can’t date his daughter (the ump’s, not his own; don’t be sick), so he decides to petition for a two-game vacation after pitching one of best Tsunami starts ever in Game 1 . . . Daniels was the only repeat baserunner, staying hot for the day . . . Godfather proved once again he’s kryptonite to the perennial powerhouse Benders and Topes . . . Rowe turned back the clock to look flashy in left . . . Black Label got his honker to stop bleeding . . . and then the rains came, so that was that and enough said.

The Right Move
Everchill gives ball to The Scarlet Letter. Trusts rook on the rock for six against champs. Listens to Banished after fifth saying arm feels great, look, my hand usually shakes when I pithc. Shows hand to Everchill nad Daniels. Hand is shaking rapidly. Everchill goes for and gets one more.

Glove Kings
The Scarlet Letter: Sick laser show from 350 sign to 3rd base on fielded triple. In. The. Air. But it did arc, as Toddamus pointed out 46 times, otherwise we had him. Hilariously simple 200-foot rope to 1B to double-off runner who apparently lost ticket to laser show inning before.

Rowe: You can’t drop popcorn in left field. Even in the lights. Rowe is a vacuum. 3 chase-downs in the dark out of the bright lights.

Bump Kings
The Scarlet Letter: 6 IP, 9 Ks, 1 ER (way gone, though)
Godfatther: 2 IP, only wormburners and silly flies

Big Sticks
Daniels, 3-5, HR, BB, 2 RBI
Toddamus, 1B, 3 BB
Scarlett Letter 1-4, SB, RS

For the Team
Black Label, right between the nose and the upper lip. Right where a proper utility-man mustache could’ve protected him. Coach told, coach told em to grow a defensive salute. But of course coach plays infield without a cup, so who’s listening.

K Derby
The Scarlet Letter 12
Danger 6
Ratto 6
Uno 2

“In Spanish They’re Called Yown Rrrrrrrrrrrrruns” Derby
Daniels (1, off Stoval)

Ripped, Robbed or Jobbed
Moreno: two line drives (3 for season) sent cricket style at the pitcher’s twigs. Both kicked perfectly to first or second for outs. Robbed.

Everchill: Not only the most electrifying atomically-charged foul ball of the year. But also a hickory rocket straight into the 3rd basemen's glove that he still feels in his palm. Hit em where they ain't!

Ivy League

From the Enemy’s Perspective
Gotta respect those dern tough cement-chewing Tsunami sons of bitches. Took us right down to the walkoff wire Game 1, coulda blown either way how the game was going. Gotta respect a crew that sticks to its principles, damn the timing or cost. And tough fer any outfit to bounce back for Game 2 after that crotch poke, plus all the rain coming down.

The Scarlet Letter 1(3)
Daniels 2 (2)
Everchill 1 (1)
Ratto 1 (1)

Larceny Derby
The Scarlet Letter 3
Daniels 2
Black Label 1 (+1 corrected, Week 1)
Everchill 1 (-1 corrected, Week 1)
Ratto 1

Request For the Scorer
Pitching. Changes.

Repeated Request For the Scorer
Posted by Tsunami34 on 04/11 at 11:20 AM
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Wednesday, April 06, 2011

Opening Day 2011: Jon Danger Hirsch Doesn’t Give A Fuck About Wearing Some High Schooler’s Hat

Tsunami 19, Red Giants 7
All about the debuts this time out (well that and some handy veteran production), but mainly the debuts: White-Lightning Pants leading off Tsunami season with BB, stealing 2nd, stealing 3rd, scoring on infield single; sac advancing two runners in 3rd; pregame laser show from CF; 3 Straight Ks to slam shut 7th (and final inning) after awesome Nuke Laloosh 4-pitch BB to open inning (featuring backstop dusting (no mascots were injured)) . . . No Nickname Yet getting first Tsunami hit (1st SFNABA hit in 3rd), at least 2 runs scored (7 or 8 more potentially after replacing non-runners); flawless infield D (between innings thrown-ground balls included) . . . Toddamus proving to be excellent platoon infielder vs. righties: frozen, knee-buckling-error-inducing drive to LF in first post-collegiate-domestic AB; 3 hits; decidedly better than horrible defense (see below: Kings, Glove) . . . Ivy League opening Tsunami career with 1-2-3 inning on Opening Day; 2 Ks; perfectly-calibrated-maximum challenge of Coach Everchill’s forehead vein capacity and circulation rate . . . then Everchill setting pace with 3 BBs (one the man way) . . . Moreno ripping one off of pitcher’s wheel, other off right field chalk for double (right time, too) . . . Chu a wall, only challenged once . . . Danger arriving to calmly extinguish fire without singeing pubic backpacker beard . . . George Human Ruth hitting one double to warning track, breaking sound barrier, didn’t even get half of it . . . Ratto effectively disarming inning-long car alarm annoyance . . . Danger coasting through order unscathed twice . . . No Nickname Yet getting picked off 1B but Chu scoring from 3B to make it look like we planned that . . . 4 Tsunami errors . . . 10-plus enemy errors . . . 10-plus Tsunami walks . . . Zero fistfights . . . Zero injuries . . . Two post-game bar attendees (very weak, lots of room for improvement).

The Big Picture
Looks like the most-contested Tsunami ROY contest in years. Four new Tsunami look to be major contenders . . . SP, SS, CF/P, IF/OF . . . Serious east coast bias among the voters doesn’t scare any of the four least coast natives now enjoying The City.

Glove Kings:
Toddamus: Sick, over-calmly pick of a line-driven, runner-screened grenade, flipped to Tamir for an inning-ending double play.

Tamir: Fresh-on-the-field, First-throw-of-the-year (touch even), Catch-and-Turn-Toss-Elevate Laser to First for an inning-ending double play.

W. L. Pants: Intimidated opponent/Amused-Inspired Tsunami with Pregame Laser Show from CF.

Bump Kings
Danger: 4 1/3 IP, 4 Ks, 0 ER

W. L. Pants: 3 Ks, 1 IP

George Human Ruth
#18: Titanic, freeway-attacking, night-bringing, backspun, ear-splitting, wood-bat-dynamite double three-hundred-and-ninety-five-feet to dead center field. 395. 395. 395. Off a 72 mph fastball. At night. Warning track power.

Big Sticks
Toddamus, 3-4, BB, 2B, 3 R
George Herman Ruth, 1-3, 2 BB, 2B, 2B-Robbed-By-Incompetence (+2rbis)
Daniels, BB. 3 R, 2 SB
Moreno (needs nickname), 1-3, BB, 2B
Ratto (Lexus is best nickname, but last name is way cooler), 1-3, 2B, 2 BB, 2 R
W.L. Pants (one-Lombard Sports-run-away from a new nickname), 1-3, 2 R, S, SB

For the Team
Everchill 1 (1). It his his elbow, okay? Right on the bone! That’s the only reason he screamed.

K Derby
Danger 4 (4)
W. L. Pants 3 (3)
Ivy League 2 (2)

Wrong K Derby (Won’t Be An Ongoing Feature)(Only Fun Once Then Would BE Mean)
Carroza 1 (1) (took it like a man)
Daniels 1 (1) {totally wined (it did almost brush jersey, above letters)} (still whining)
Chu 1 (1)
Tamir 1 (1) (ripped, robbed candidate)
Moreno 1 (1)
Danger 1 (just kidding; Everchill CS home B4 swing)
Hardaway 1 (1) (ripped, robbed candidate; total screwing)

W.L. Pants 2 (2)
Daniels 2 (2)
Everchill 1 (strictly Pants’s caboose) (1)
? (potential missed SBs = +/- 2; send complaints to Godfather c/o Hale)

Daniels RBI single top 1: driven cleanly off the center of the handle to deep west of mound, just enough east of 3B. Crushed.

Ripped, Robbed
G. H. Ruth bases-loaded 2-RBI double down the line top 6: official not only ruled this true hit a catch (to what opposing SS told umpire—“honestly, he didn’t catch it”), but then umpire ruled catch a non-caught foul ball (putting Everchill back at 3B, Daniels to 2B, Toddamus to 1b, G. H. Ruth to batter’s box); but then Coach Everchill responded there was no way it was foul (said with gusto, but only because ball landed beside glove a few feet inside foul line for a fair double) so umpires conferenced to rule Ball In Fact Now Caught After All, Ruth Out, Daniels Out at 3B (but Toddamus safe at 2B despite not tagging up). So much awesome in one play. All of it wrong. Double play.

Tarde (needs to participate for improved nickname).

From the Enemy’s Perspective
I should have never taken myself out.
I should have put myself back in earlier.
I shouldn’t have taken myself out again.
I should’ve put myself back in again.
We almost had them.
Next time.
If only I’d pitched more.

Past ROY:
1987: 1. Everchill 2. Oklahoma (R.I.P.)
2002: 1. Moreno 2. Levine
2003: 1. Brill (Uno) 2. Goldberg
2004 1. Hardaway 2.
2006 1. Tamir 2. Reverend Coffman
2007 1. K. Daniels 2. The Two That Shall Not Be Named (Sons of Laettner)
2008 1. Ratto 2. Danger
2009 1. Rowdy Roddy 2. Hot Stick Merritt
2010 1. Tarde 2. Hale (Godfather)
2011 ?

One Request For the Scorer
Runs. Batted. In.
Posted by Tsunami34 on 04/06 at 02:51 PM
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Thursday, April 15, 2010

What’s a Bob Saget?

Guy walks into a bar, says: “Give me the Bob Saget.”

Bartender says: “What’s a Bob Saget?”

“Oh it’s simple,” the guy says, “it’s when you’re an Olsen twin, and Bob Saget buys you a milkshake, and then you wake up the next morning face down with a bloody gutted asshole.”

But I’m not here to roast Bob Saget. I’m here to talk about rainy days.

In Kasilof, Alaska we chased the salmon. Reds, silvers, kings. Tossed the pinks, sole and sharks back into the Cook Inlet. Woke up early for the 7 a.m. openers, got the skiffs into the trailers and the trailers hitched to the trucks by 6. In the water by 6:30, hurdling stacks of whitecaps out to the boss’s site in search of our dancing buoys, the pink and orange gumballs half a mile off-shore tied to the sandy Inlet floor with six-braided nylon cords. Reeled the buoys in, tied on one side of our two-hundred-feet-long gillnets, and roared straight at the approaching skiff bringing the twin buoy across the ripping tide. Grabbed the buoy from the frothing wake of the swerving skiff, tied off the other end of the net, got the hell out of the way before the tide took the net out of our skiff like Paul Bunyan’s hissing slingshot. High-fived like mad if we lost no fingers.

We repeated the set twenty-one times, laid a fucking wall for those salmon in under an hour. Then checked a few knots and pointed the skiffs back towards the five parallel lines of smoke escaping our beach-tent chimneys.

We ate like mad. Military speed in the cook tent: pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, biscuits, cereal; yes, all in one breakfast. If the pick was coming fast we’d wrap apple slices in bacon and roll those in pancakes, hop in the trucks back for the launch without sitting down. Always grabbed dry gloves, always, no matter the rush. Smoked four or five rolled cigarettes every thirty minutes on shore.

Went out and picked our nets, reeled them in over our skiffs like a bridge between buoys and pulled from one end to the other. Hustled every squirming or stone-dead salmon onto the hull of our boats before the tide changed and ebbed or flooded, emptied our nets like an envelope turning inside out. Ripped the fish from the nets. Snapped, shook them. Felt the firecrackers in our forearms—muscle fever. Cursed the rebelling discs in our backs. Looked up every once in a while and realized the office floor was a sea of blue hills and white foam, the cubicle walls cookies-and-cream topped volcanic peaks—handsome and intimidating motherfuckers rising in every direction except the southern door to the open ocean—and then reestablished our pace with the energy of swinging monkeys.

Came in, chucked the fish into totes, ate up. Lots: pizzas, hamburgers, tater tots, gravy, ham, beans; not all in one meal but single portions fit for wolverines. Went back out, battled the tides and the cold and the cramping of hands into cupholders, wrenches, clubs we just swung at the fish when we could no longer squeeze them. Over and over: pick, return, pitch, eat, dry gloves, six Advil, out to the nets, pick, return, pitch, repeat.

We knew that on off days we’d get plenty of rest, sleep past noon, soak in the sauna, recuperate. But an opening could last for 30 hours, more, just keep us cycling through the motions, spirits rising and falling depending on adrenaline, always eventually settling on “Fuck this, we’re never signing up for this hell on earth and water ever again.” Then we’d reach the closing bell, reel in the first net, fish and everything, all into our boat. Continued stacking up one after another, the twenty-feet-long skiffs sinking deep into the water under the weight. Hooting and hollering, the end in sight. We got macho again, felt the rush of finishing a marathon of labor, grabbed the lead lines and refused to switch to hauling in the lighter corks. Finally returned.

Finished the day pitching fish, untangling nets. Ate. Partied. Sucked on Busch Light like those cans had platinum nipples. Chain-smoked hand-rolled cigarettes and fought of Charlie horses from toenail to spine. And we did this rain or shine. No matter the temperature. No matter the tide. Any fucking day Fish and Game said we could give it a go.

Not like in baseball.

Not like in Alameda last Sunday.

Tsunami 0, Benders 0. Wives and girlfriends: 1.
Posted by Tsunami34 on 04/15 at 08:57 AM
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Thursday, April 08, 2010

John Danger Hirsch doesn’t give a fuck what you think… (Heroes 3, Tsunami 4 in 10 innings)

John Danger Hirsch doesn’t give a fuck what you think about him forgetting a belt. He doesn’t care that you asked him before he got in your car: “Do you have a belt? Do you have socks and cleats?” He doesn’t care that he answered in the offended affirmative without even unzipping his half-packed backpack. He doesn’t care that two years ago you drove him yourself to buy a belt at Sports Authority. Politics, weather systems and transmutable physiological inconveniences never inconvenience this singular force of nature, so stop worrying already that he’d be hindered entering the big ballet only in his leotard, no tutu. Danger just wants the baseball in his hands on a weekend afternoon, seven fielders in black jerseys standing behind him, a brimming index of five-star accessibility/one-star beauties in his Blackberry, and a few rumors of an exceedingly generous nature floating around his place of employment. So why would you want him . . . any other way?

While it wasn’t enjoyable at the time, last year’s final record provides this year’s hearty and refreshed Tsunami with one motivating gift for the 2010 application: plenty of incentive for revenge. 8-12 puts up to twelve well-marinated proteins onto this season’s grill, so let’s see the positive in it. No sense dwelling on the past. Not on often-argued-about failed attempts to steal home that closed the door on a decidedly underwhelming season. Not on reckless pre-game Bay-to-Breakers* participation (cue the music for “Number 14s” first appearance in this blog). Not on last season’s straight out WBC-themed whupping at the hands of the aggressive, fleet and consistent Heroes who last exited our shared field as dominant but humble victors, 8-3.* And hopefully not on any ill-fated, overwhelmingly humbling, disastrous pick-off attempts at second base, no matter how recently or long ago it occurred. This year’s refreshed Tsunami spirit lives only in the present and future.

Of course nobody needed to tell Danger to seize the day last weekend. He didn’t switch shifts at work, calibrate his chemical foundation deep into Friday night, wake up Saturday and spray some Right Guard on Wednesday’s boxers to disappoint his growing legion of groupies that afternoon. No, Danger had a plan on Saturday: locate the fastball, drop the hook out of the sky, wear Coach Rowe’s belt. The results: 6 innings, 8 Ks, 2 runs. Of course the Tsunami did their best to keep Danger focused, waiting till the 5th to score 2 runs when Rolling Mo from RF sparked Eddie-Mo the Elder to 2b on a single and F. Ellis-Carroll decided to show coach Everchill he was here for more than defense with a run-scoring slice to right. Abbott followed with a roller to short that brought in Rolling Mo but Larson followed with a bed-wetting backwards K.

There were Ks for almost everyone, though, thanks to a spectacular outing delivered by the Heros ace #51, Akio. Outside fastballs. Down and outside fastballs. Painting the black. Breaking stuff in surprising counts. Akio held the Tsunami to just those two runs over eight, struck out 10 and allowed only two hits. Hirsch, Brill, Vazquez and Larson all narrowly avoided the first sombrero of the season, Larson perhaps only by sacrificing successfully twice and Hirsch by running out of at-bats. Fortunately for the team in black and green, however, Akio had to leave before the 9th inning after throwing 589 pitches through eight full.

Soon Rolling Mo sparked the second rally of the day again, this time lining a fastball down the line in the bottom of the 9th for a long double that forced him to sprint at least a third of the 180 feet to second base. F. Ellis-Carroll then stepped up and made-up for a teammate’s huge defensive gaffe earlier in the inning by hitting the longest single in Tsunami history straight over the CF’s head, and one of the most clutch. So clutch. Saved a tremendous effort by Danger and a surprising appearance by Number 14 in his first outing of the year. Yes, Number 14 not only arrived in cleats and without pre-game beverages, he also tossed four innings of relief, K-ing 6 and allowing only one hit, a high double to left that surprised more than E. Mo, Sr. among the Big Fat Outfield. Catorce gave up only one run, however, and in the top of the tenth he stranded runners at the corners to set the momentum-train rolling towards a Disney-movie ending for the Tsunami.

Abbott’s power was respected to the extreme, and he was walked on four pitches to open the bottom of the 10th. Coach Everchill signaled for a steal of second, and Larson took the opening pitch as Abbott deleted his emails, emptied his wallet of receipts, and slid into second base fifteen feet under the throw into shallow center. Crafty, the old guy. Larson decided to pop only one bunt attempt foul and moved Abbott to third on Coach Everchill’s orders, setting the table for Beustad and Vazquez to swing for a walk-off game-winning RBI in the three and four holes. Unfortunately for these big bats, however, four balls came Beustad’s way and one came directly Vazquez’s way, beaning him to load the bases. More than one impartial observer noted the disappointment in both batter’s reactions after taking a base instead of swinging for the game. That’s how we want them to feel. But of course two men’s disappointment can always be one man’s threesome, and we’re not just talking about our starting pitchers and long relievers working their magic from North Beach to Portrero Hill, no sir. Of course Morton the Elder made magic at the plate with his composite bamboo shaft and a 2-1 fastball against a drawn-in infield. Of course he lined it clean into left field. Of course we bounced off and slapped him on the helmet like American Legion players. Fucking awesome to have the Hero on our side this time.

Lost in the Shuffle: Beustad and Abbott joining Larson in the roadrunner derby, Abbott’s coming at a particularly significant time (and taking no shortage of time, one talent evaluator observed), and Beustad’s bordering on catcher’s indifference . . . Vazquez connecting for freedom in the bottom of the second but meeting a totalitarian wind blowing in from center field . . . Beustad making all the plays from SS in pinch duty despite recognizing his arm felt like dried bubblegum during warm-ups . . . Morton sensing a pickoff attempt and getting into a brawl with the infield dirt four steps left of first base, losing, but seeing enough of the humor in it to climb off his back with dignity as the baseball settled in the backstop’s pud . . . Rowe flawless in yanking bat away from particularly influential Heroes hitters in key spots . . . Fluffy camping on the infield sod and not giving into the running game . . . Moreno uncorking a laser just high from deep right . . . Abbott getting fussy with a sharp liner to his right with men on base, laying out and, back-be-damned, making the catch . . . Coach Everchill vowing to learn Spanish with avowed purpose of intercepting certain centerfieldish-sent communications . . . Brill earning a week’s worth of hot tubs and knee wraps with ten-innings of inspired catching duty . . . Frankel gutting out second-base duty with a still-barking slinger wing . . . Did we mention Brill caught 10 innings! That’s right. Not bad for a man just ten years older than twenty-three. You made those little Pumas proud, Coach . . . until next week, Sunday against the Benders at Encinal H.S. in Alameda. You know Danger will be there. He won’t miss it. So please bring extra belts.

Game Ball: Coach Everchill says Morton. The view here says Danger, Catorce and the veteran LF earned equal shares. They’re have to split it or share it, and in that case I’m not sure of the pronunciation, but I believe it’s spelled something like “ménage a trios.”
Posted by Tsunami34 on 04/08 at 08:31 AM
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