Kuzul

With a franchise as storied as the Yankees, it seems like there are few numbers left un-retired, or very soon to be.

With Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera and Alex Rodriguez, not many desirable numbers will still be left for newcomers to pick. 

It is a rite of passage for players to shed their #89 that was designated to them in the minors, for a bright, shiny No. 6 or 22. 

The current retired numbers are as follows

1-Billy Martin

3-Babe Ruth

4-Lou Gehrig

5-Joe DiMaggio

7-Mickey Mantle

8-Yogi Berra, Bill Dickey

9-Roger Maris

10-Phil Rizzuto

15-Thurman Munson

16-Whitey Ford

23-Don Mattingly

32-Elston Howard

37-Casey Stengel

42-Jackie Robinson (entire MLB)

44-Reggie Jackson

49-Ron Guidry

For Argument sake, we’ll stop at 25 for my article. 

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The Red Sox are my sleeper pick.

This prediction comes in spite of their heavy losses in sluggers Victor Martinez and Adrian Beltre.

The Red Sox, though, offset those losses by adding power hitting 1B Adrian Gonzalez, filling their gaping hole at the position, as Kevin Youkilis was not getting the job done.  Now Youkilis has been kicked over to the other side of the diamond where he will have a difficult time adjusting to a position he’s played at for only 1,606 innings his career.

In addition, Boston lured Carl Crawford over with the promise that he can play in a place without the fear of being overshadowed.  He will fit in nicely in left field.

Never has an underdog had such an established roster. 

A big issue with the 2010 team was their amount of injuries, spread nicely over the course of the season so as not to look suspicious.

Furthermore, the Red Sox starting rotation, looking for a boost, will get one when John Lackey is encouraged by the organization to wear Curt Schilling’s bloody sock, but not the famous one. 

Thanks to David Ortiz’s terrific second half of the season (after hitting .054 through June), the Red Sox will overcome their demons and end the curse, reaching the playoffs for the first time in two years. 

Finally, sensing their similarities to their rivals in New York, the Red Sox will decide to find a new rival, and it will be BP oil.  Now aren’t you back on their side? 

The Toronto Blue Jays will finally reach their potential and finish second. 

With their mighty sluggers, the Jays will fight for the wild card.  They will be led by Jose Bautista, who was consistent in 2010 and consistently mediocre every year before that. 

Based on Bautista’s incredible performance last season, the Jays will bank on the same happening in 2011 to one of their other mediocre hitters with at least moderate power, or all of them.  My pick is Edwin Encarnacion, Adam Lind, and Travis Snider.  And Jose Bautista, who will prove that last season was the true baseline of his stardom.  He will hit 73.1 home runs next season, breaking Barry Bonds’ single season mark by 0.1 after the league simply decides to give it to him because “it’s the right thing to do.” 

Behind the budding strength of their starting rotation, the Blue Jays will thrive, breaking the .500 barrier for the first time since—wait, they’ve been over .500 four of the last five years. 

Correction, behind their young starting pitchers, the Blue Jays will develop higher expectations, sure to come back to bite them in the long run. 

Also, their bullpen will learn to be more apathetic.  Blown saves will follow.

The outlook for the 2010 Toronto Blue Jays is a bright one, for the first time since whenever they will become relevant (or whatever).

Behind a new youth movement and a commitment to not spending money they don’t have, the Tampa Bay Rays will ride a wave of success to third place

Their imminent third place finish will be a drop from last year’s second place finish, but it will be seen as a vast improvement to their predicted sixth place finish.

The departure of Carlos Pena, who will be considered by many to be the “missing piece,” will open up a spot for Dan Johnson, who will wow fans with his .198 batting average. 

He will depart the next season with a $10 million deal with the Cubs. 

During the home opener, the Rays’ organization will retire number 13.  Nothing will ever be the same. 

With the other departures of, hold on let me get ready: Jason Bartlett, Matt Garza, Joaquin Benoit, Grant Balfour, Dan Wheeler, and most likely the increasingly desperate Rafael Soriano, spots will be opened up for future Jason Bartlett, future Matt Garza, Lance Cormier, Mike Ekstrom, Chad Qualls, and Kyle Farnsworth. 

Lastly, you may remember 3B Evan Longoria’s claim that the fans did not show up to Tampa Bay home games.  What you may not have heard is when the fans responded, “Sure we don’t attend” as they put their masks back on. 

The 2011 slogan for the Baltimore Orioles is “Success In Imports.” 

“Nick Markakis and the Mercenaries” will take the field next season unfamiliar with each other’s playing styles.  They may not even know each other’s names.

Mark Reynolds will be known as “one two three,” Derrek Lee as “that one guy who fought Chris Young,” and Brian Roberts, an Oriole veteran, will become “that guy who’s just sort of been here.” 

Younger players like Matt Wieters and Nolan Reimold will sit cross-legged in front of Roberts as he tells tales of what the roster used to look like in his “hay day.”

“We had a man by the name of Rafael Palmeiro and a guy named Surhoff.”  “Woooooowww,” the youngsters will say in awe, “Did you have cleats back then?”

Manager Buck Showalter, most well known for guiding the Texas Rangers to three consecutive third place finishes in ’04-’06, will channel his inner “True Grit.”  In the process, he will take advantage of the Coen Brothers’ new film and model himself more after Jeff Bridges’, Rooster Cogburn. 

The players, not knowing how to respond to this, simply will ignore him. 

After a few weeks and becoming tired of the Rooster Cogburn character, Showalter will go onto compare himself to Jeff Bridges’ character in Seabiscuit.  Because of this, he will compare his pitchers to workhorses…then race horses. Then he’ll treat them like true race horses. 

The young Oriole staff must hope they don’t wear down. 

The New York Yankees will hire a new GM who looks eerily like the Sith Lord. 

Along the way, they will finish in last place after their makeshift rotation fails down the stretch, and by stretch, I mean June onward. 

CC Sabathia will dominate opponents for the first few innings of the year. Then he will get tired. 

AJ Burnett will become the new staff ace after all the pressure of New York baseball is lifted off his shoulders. After a few quality starts, the pressure will return tenfold.  He will never recover.

Phil Hughes will become the Phil Hughes of 2010.  He will continually be overlooked by everyone who cannot take their eyes off of Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez’s receding hair-line. 

Andy Pettitte will come back for 2011, retiring from baseball only between his starts.  For this reason, he will not be in great shape.  The Yankees, used to Clemens antics, will not mind as long as Pettitte makes more than he’s worth. 

As far as the lineup goes, Derek Jeter will act as though nothing weird happened this offseason and it will be totally awkward.  Alex Rodriguez will gossip around the clubhouse to make sure the attention is not on his own declining average and OBP.

Brett Gardner, seeing Jeter’s success, will dive into the crowd, make unwarranted jump throws (from the outfield), make a flip play, win multiple undeserved gold gloves, and demand an outrageous contract for his worth. He will be loved in the city of New York. 

Robinson Cano will hit the cover off the ball like the stud that he is, then receive a cover article on Sports Illustrated, and then promptly be overlooked again.

Nick Swisher is awesome. 

Welcome to 2011, the A-Rod and Jeter show.  Is Mariano Rivera even still around?  

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Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim:

The Angels players, all personally offended by the public’s plea for outside help, will rally behind the return of Kendry Morales and Tim Salmon. 

Torii Hunter, who for so long called for Carl Crawford to become a Halo, will pretend he was happy with the roster all along. 

At the same time owner Arte Moreno will claim that he believed in the players within the organization enough not to spend money on big name free agents. 

The players themselves, however, will only use their anger towards Moreno as motivation to not only win each game but also to slaughter their opponent in any way possible.

On May 20, Torii Hunter will hit a walk-off homerun against the Atlanta Braves, and in the ensuing celebration he will break his leg, much like Morales, only there will be player testimonies that do not add up.  An investigation will follow. 

Brandon Wood, relegated to executive ball-boy, sorry, executive ball-man, will find hope in his new role. 

He will meet the soul of Derek Jeter (Because New York stripped it from him) who will guide him on an out-of-body experience to see how to fix his career.  It may sound ridiculous, but so does his .382 OPS in 81 games last year. 

In around mid-September it will slowly come out that the Angels organization is actually an elaborate 50 year-long police sting to uncover the mob’s involvement in baseball, thus explaining why Crawford and Adrian Beltre kept their distance. 

Also, the organization will be disbanded when said information is leaked by Julian Assange.

Oakland Athletics:

The pitching staff, led by future Tim Hudson, future Mark Mulder, and future Barry Zito will rally around the assumption that if they make the playoffs a movie will be made about their triumphs.

Around July 15, with the A’s in the wild-card hunt, GM Billy Beane will convince Yankee GM Brian Cashman to trade Nick Swisher back to Oakland while eating 90% of his salary. 

Then Swisher will grow his hair back to its appropriate length and use his power stroke and cowboy attitude to make the offense believe in itself for the stretch run. 

Breakout star of 2011 will be 3B Kevin Kouzmanoff who finally loosens up at the plate and stops swinging at pitches buried in the dirt. 

Seriously though, Kouz hits like I’d imagine Macaulay Culkin might swing a bat while he light-heartedly tries to defend his home from inept thieves. 

I might be a little off-topic but whenever Kouzmanoff steps into the batter’s box my heart sinks a little inside. 

It’s like the world is darker, the clouds form above and rain pours down, so yes even God wants to avoid watching his at bats.  But hey his defense his above average, so there’s that. 

The A’s failure to sign Adrian Beltre may seem like a bad thing, and that’s because it is.

Finally, the search for a new ballpark will end when the organization says “to hell with it” and starts playing at a local high school field.  The high school team will take over the Coliseum and attendance will see a slight increase. 

Seattle Mariners:

With Ichiro threatening to return to Japan unless the Mariners avoid last place, the Mariners will avoid last place.  Infielder Chone Figgins, wanting to prove his worth to himself, will enter Spring Training having gained 20 pounds of muscle.

By July 15, he will have hit 40 home runs, bumping the team total to 43.  Ichiro will be overshadowed and will then retire. 

Because of their fabulous third-place finish, Felix Hernandez will not be traded as he will donate over half of each paycheck back to the organization to blow on other mediocre pitchers and washed up outfielders. 

Then, making a sudden and unwarranted “game-changer” the Mariners will unsuccessfully trade for Cliff Lee. 

The Phillies will turn down the offer, but using outside, somewhat legal help the Mariners will quietly acquire Lee and put him in a Vargas jersey because no one knows who that player is anyway.

Once the media catches on, the Seattle organization will cover its ears and, in unison, repeat the phrase “na na na na na na na na I can’t hear you, you words don’t affect us because we have special shields that only we can see.” 

After a few weeks everyone will give up.  The move, however, will not help as Lee is unmotivated and finds a way to injure his right pinky. 

While searching for success, Justin Smoak will toy with the idea of adding a knuckleball to his arsenal, and oh yeah he’s going to become a starting pitcher.  Smoak will fit in nicely in the No. 2 slot in the rotation.   

Texas Rangers:

Coming off of their terrific pennant-winning season in 2010, the Texas Rangers will struggle to replicate their success in 2011 due to Adrian Beltre’s mere presence. 

Beltre will constantly walk around “making it rain” in the face of good ol’ hardworking players like Colby Lewis and C.J. Wilson. 

Michael Young, like Mariners’ SP Justin Smoak, will make the transition from 1B/DH to pitcher as part of a 2011 movement that will be aptly named “Year of the Pitcher, Again.” 

Around June 1, after Beltre’s move to the leadoff spot in order to really “shake things up” as stated by manager Ron Washington, the team will go on a relatively long winning streak, taking two in a row from the Cleveland Indians. 

As part of that same “shake up,” Neftali Feliz will finally be removed from the closer role and put on the gear as the next great catcher. 

Washington will explain the move by saying that it improves the team’s overall “WAR” and reporters will wonder if he knows what that means. 

For the rest of the season fans will call for a replacement to Washington, and finally Nolan Ryan will hold a press conference only to announce his return to the mound, “but only as a closer,” he will explain.  

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SATIRE— Take pity on Mets General Manager Sandy Alderson. He has to rebuild a team that is saddled with a core of high salary players who are low on talent and lower still on productivity.  

To make matters worse, the team’s fans have been promised much on-the-field greatness in recent years, but have received little in terms of success.   As a result, Mets followers are losing their patience and have begun turning to other activities, such as Yankee baseball and alternate side of the street parking.

How can Alderson win back the fans while he rebuilds the team? The answer is to draw their attention away from what’s happening on the field with as many bonus promotions and cosmetic changes as he can think of.

Here are eight suggestions to start him off:

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Tonight, the second highest lottery jackpot in United States history, $355 million (boils down to $225 million) could be awarded if someone has the matching numbers on their ticket.

The chances of winning are near impossible—one out of 170 million—but if you won, you could pretty much buy whatever you want.

Here is what sports-related things I would buy if I were to win the jackpot.

Please share your dream sports purchases in the comments section.

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It’s been six years since baseball returned to Washington, and with its roots now firmly planted deep into the the city’s personality, it’s time to once and for all declare that Baltimore is for the birds.

As a young man growing up in Washington,  Baltimore seemed strictly “second-city.” Our airport was “National” and theirs was “Friendship.” We had Captain Tugg to watch after school on television while they had Captain Chesapeake, a guy with a peanut shell taped to his nose. We had the United States Capitol building and they had all those little white marble stoops the dotted pretty much every street in the inner city. 

Our city was named after the man who won the Revolutionary War. Their city was named after a British Lord. We were winners and they were losers.

Baltimore seemed to exist so that Washingtonians could just feel better about themselves.

My first trip into Baltimore was back in 1964. I vividly remember the Baltimore City clock tower. It had black block letters across its face, and as I stared through the windshield of my father’s Buick Wildcat, the words slowly became recognizable.

“Bromo Seltzer.”

Bromo Seltzer? “Dad,” I asked, “Why did Baltimore put ‘Bromo Seltzer’ on their city clock?” “Because,” my Dad said, with that rich, reassuring voice that all fathers had in the early ’60s, “It is a reminder to take the medicine because living in Baltimore makes you sick.”

I was just a kid, mind you, but I was pretty sure all those Senators and Congressman didn’t go home at night and drink Bromo Seltzer.

Now, that’s not why I disliked Baltimore, you understand. It was the Orioles! You see, the Senators invited them to leave St. Louis and play in our back yard, and they repaid Washington’s kindness by beating the snot out of us every time we played.

Every time.

The Orioles would trade for Frank Robinson and the Senators would trade for Greg Goosen. The Orioles would have four 20-game winners in their rotation and the Senators had four pitchers who would combine to win 20 games. In 1969, the Senators won 86 games and were competitive the entire year. The Orioles won twenty games more and went to the World Series.

That’s what made the World Series smack-down against the Mets so enjoyable, by the way. I never loved a man before, but Ron Swaboda’s catch out in right made me want to give him a man-hug.

In baseball, Washington was the weak sister. When Bob Short did to Washington what he did to Minneapolis a dozen years earlier, I was crushed. Remember, he was the Lakers’ owner who moved the team to Los Angeles, hence the name “Lakers” as in ten-thousand Minnesota lakes.

But even Bob Short’s Texas two-step couldn’t make me an Oriole fan. For five years, I rooted for the Redskins and the Bullets always and the Capitals sometimes, and spent my summers at Ocean City. But things changed in 1976.

Her name was Sharon. Having dated many girls, Sharon was the first “woman” I had gone out with. I had known her throughout high school and we had been good friends, but I was never considered to be in her league.

Sharon and I were a lot like the Senators and Orioles. My girl, and Baltimore’s team, were in a league all their own. Neither of us really tood a chance.

She was an avid Oriole fan, and wanted to see a game in Baltimore. Hmmmm. My hatred of the Orioles vs. a curvaceousness and vivacious redhead. Actually, the decision was closer than you’d think. But in the end Sharon won out and just a few days before our country’s Bicentennial she and I zipped down the parkway towards Baltimore in her yellow Volkswagen convertible. I was having a great time until we pulled into the Memorial Stadium parking lot. I got kind of clammy. My stomach began to hurt.

There before me was Memorial Stadium. It was nothing my like RFK.

RFK Stadium was at the time sleek and modern, and Memorial Stadium looked out of date, with its brick façade and 1930’s brushed aluminum lettering. I kept muttering to myself, “vivacious redhead…vivacious redhead” as we walked into the stadium.

I still don’t get it these many years later. There, in the middle of a large urban city, sitting among 35,000 people,were loudspeakers blaringJohn Denver’s “Thank God I’m A Country Boy” after each inning. I Didn’t see a single country boy in the stands. And people from Baltimore must like the sun, because there was no roof to cover the stadium and I boiled my crabcakes off.

Oh, and the game stunk. Reggie Jackson hit two home runs and Doug DeCinces made a couple of good defensive plays, but the Orioles lost something like14-6 to the Angels. But I couldn’t watch the game. I just couldn’t.

All around me were these giant Oriole bird faces shouting in colors of orange and black,  with huge grins, staring right at me! They were laughing at me because Baltimore had a baseball team and we didn’t. When we got home, the redhead wasn’t feeling very vivacious because her team had lost, and she asked me to leave so she could rest. Sigh. The Orioles were even destroying my love life!

I had to get away from that stupid bird. I moved to Pocatello, Idaho 20 years ago, where I don’t have to see that beaky bird mocking my misfortune. Alas, the wrongs of the world have been righted with baseball again being part of my life.

This time, however, the Orioles are just as bad as the Nationals. Just as Sir Peter feared, the Orioles will be but a postscript in Washington history. Way back there, in the deep recesses of Washington’s memory junk pile, next to the A, B & W Bus company, People’s Drug Stores and Glen Echo Amusement Park, will be the faint odor of the decaying memory of the Baltimore Orioles.

Thirty years from now, a young boy will dig up an old picture of his dad wearing an Oriole’s cap and, with tears in his eyes, ask “Why?” “Son,” the dad will begin, using lyrics from a song that rocked D.C. the summer of the Senators greatest year, ‘If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.'”

Baltimore, we were lonely. We’re not lonely anymore.

Deal with it.

P.S.: Hey Baltimore, this is satire. Don’t get grumpy.

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

I’ll be honest. I don’t watch postseason trades. I find them as futile as foreplay after forty or light beer chasers. But when I read that the phenomenal uniform philler-outer, Jayson Werth, had been signed by a division rival, I burned my bra in defiance.

Then I just had to buy a new one. That’s when I made an important discovery:

Not everything expands when it’s cold.

In this era of disclaimers, stipulations, and legal litigation, let me make one thing vividly clear:

I’d still do Jayson Werth.

But some people thought I’d take the news hard.

Hard? Hell, at least he didn’t run up the phone bill and stick my toothbrush someplace dreary when he left. Besides, who can blame him? Like my husband said, “It’s just a man taking care of his family.”

Considering a few years ago he questioned whether he’d ever play ball again, I take my hat off to him.

Okay, maybe a few other pieces of clothing too.

And the Nationals: Was it an accident that a team hoping to fill its stands with fans nabbed one of the sexiest players in baseball? I think not.

Was it a quirk that those new stalker laws went into effect shortly after I became a Phillies fan?

Nothing’s a coincidence.

Think of t-shirt sales alone. Nat fans are already stuffing their bras to embellish Jayson’s 28 on their chests (or like me, the 28 around my chest.)

Hey, aren’t there plans for a high-speed train from Philadelphia to DC?

Like my friend, Dave, said, “Jayson Werth is getting paid in Trident Layers.” I told him, “I’m one of them.”

So last week’s headline read: “Phils Have Hole to Fill as Werth Signs With Nats.”

Yeah, so did I.

This week’s is, “Hole Wasn’t as Big as We Thought.”

Heard that before.

There’s one major reason the Phillies signed Cliff Lee: So my husband wouldn’t have to hear me whine.

Cross that one off my bucket list, and my Christmas list, my delusional fantasy baseball list, my most wanted list, my Amazon wish list, and my own personal to “do” list.

Tell the truth: How many of you tried to redeem American Express points for him?

And why are we so obsessed with the one who compLEEtes me?

The behind-the-back catch.

A man that can do it with a hand tied behind his back is an odds-on favorite for the feline fans.

Whoops, did I just say feline?

I’m sorry. I was dreaming of Cliff Lee reaching every part of my body with his tongue.

From his mound.

I have no idea what that means.

So, while fans ponder which slot in the rotation he’ll master or if the 9-5 odds of the Phils winning the World Series will waiver, I wonder about the important stuff:

What month will he get in the new Phillies calendar?

And he’s getting Ruben Amaro Jr’s old number: 33.

Hey, that’s my lucky number. Hold on, I think that’s my IQ.

Wait, what’s an IQ?

Actually I don’t care what number he gets just so it’s ironed on his uniform in Braille.

Then it won’t be a violation to fondle him.

I really need to start that petition for women umpires.

Or cheerleaders.

Or just a block of seats for middle-aged perverts.

By Jayson leaving Philly for more and Cliff coming back for less, I don’t think Ruben has to worry about dissent in the stands.

And look on the bright side—I can still flash Jayson 18 times next season.

Hey, don’t scowl at me—I have a permit for that. I petitioned the court and called it “freedom of expression.” And they bought it because they agreed—there aren’t many ways I can prove I’m a girl.

And since I have a licentious license I told my husband for this year’s Christmas card we should flash the camera, then use the caption “Merry Titsmas.”

He answered with a new concept in grammar: The exclamation fart.

That means he doesn’t like it.

Or my casserole was a little rich.

So, with 2010 drawing to close, I’d like to serve up my graciousness for three things:

Cliff Lee is back.

If I miss Jayson, he’s only 150 miles away.

And my husband can still make me fart when he makes me laugh.

Let me proclaim my joy another way:

Oh Christmas Lee, oh Christmas Lee

How lovely are your britches.

In the meantime, while I wait to see if the Phillies sign another great butt, I’ll iron my pinstriped thong and wear it close to the part of me my husband truly cherishes.

Like he says, “At least it’ll keep something else from crawling up there.”

Happy Halladay everyone.

See you at the ballpark.

PS. Happy birthday, Dad.

Copyright 2010 Flattish Poe all rights reserved

Catch life one-liner at a time on Twitter.

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There’s something strangely fitting that former Tribe starter Bartolo Colon is rumored to be a potential free-agent target for the Indians during the 2010-2011 hot stove season. 

No, I’m not talking about Colon now “fitting” into his old Tribe jersey now that he’s allegedly lost 50 pounds, I’m talking about how he could fit on this team as a relevant starter.  Seriously, I know you all are chuckling.

I know most of you think that Colon is long past his prime.  I know that you think this rapid weight loss is bogus, or some sort of Oprah-Winfrey like rubber-band diet.  I know that you all think he’s really a grandpa.  I know you think he’s past his prime.  But c’mon, you’ve got to open up your mind a bit here.

I’m going to assume that the five of you that read my sad excuse for a blog are seated in front of your computer while viewing this exquisite and well thought out piece, and while you are likely dedicating the next ten minutes of your life into a wonderful retort about how insane I am (you’d be correct), please try and remain calm for a few more moments. 

Give me some time here people,  so please take this moment to relax, get nice and comfortable, close your eyes, and think back to the good ole’ days of 1998.  Don’t worry, if you can’t remember back that far, I’ll help you along a bit. 

Ah, yes, 12 years ago when the Indians were one of the upper echelon.  Back then, Mr. Colon was a 23-year-old ace-in-waiting.  He had helped the Tribe along to their second World Series appearance in three years back in 2007, and had really emerged as a plus pitcher in ’08.  He would win 14 games that year, and would then go on to win 10 or more games in his next four seasons with the Tribe. 

He was good…really good.  So good, in fact, that the Indians dealt him away for a net return of Lee Stevens, Cliff Lee, Grady Sizemore and Brandon Phillips.  While Stevens turned into an afterthought, Lee and Sizemore became extremely valuable pieces to the Tribe cause, and Phillips did the same, just not for the Tribe (you’re welcome Cincinnati). 

Colon continued to pitch well for a variety of teams before winning the Cy Young with the Angels in 2005.  It was his last relevant season.

Okay, now open up your eyes.  I wanted to be fair to the former ace before we took a look at the reality of the “fit.”  Yeah, I know, you thought I was being serious.  You thought I really thought that Colon was a perfect fit.  Please let me rephrase a bit.  I don’t think he’s a good fit, but the Tribe brass does.  No, I’m not kidding. 

For once, I’d like to believe Paul Hoynes, who stated on his twitter account a few days ago that the “Indians have no interest in re-signing Bartolo Colon, who quit on his last two teams.”  Tonight, during Bart’s start with his Dominican team, sitting in the stands was one Manny Acta.  Of course, he could just be taking in a game…right?

Colon is nothing if not interesting.  “Manny being Manny” is a popular phrase, but there was also Bart being Bart.  Remember when I said that he was 23 years old back in 1998?  It turns out that a birth certificate showed up in 2002 with a birth date of 1973, instead of 1975.  So, as it turns out, Colon wasn’t as promising a prospect as he was.

Granted, a 25-year-old winning 14 games is still fairly outstanding, but it’s just not the same as a 23-year-old.  Like many players from the Dominican, questions to this day remain about Colon’s age.  Is he really 37?  Is he 40?  Is he 50?  Is he still alive?  It’s hard to tell.

There’s also the issue of Colon’s weight.  With the Tribe, Colon consistently struggled with his weight.  While he was never a svelte starter, Colon did manage some eating restraint.  Over the years, however, Colon’s food demons had seemingly caught up with him.  Of course, once they did, Bart actually ate them too. 

I remember seeing some listings of Colon’s weight back in 2006 and 2007 as somewhere around 185 pounds.  Now, I could believe that he was 185 pounds back then, perhaps if he was filled with helium, and not the better part of the Golden Corral buffet. 

Colon hasn’t pitched for the Tribe since June of 2002, and hasn’t pitched for any major league team since 2009.  In 2008, the Red Sox signed Colon, and he pitched fairly well.  Still, Colon wasn’t considered a starter with the Sox, and after making seven solid starts, Boston manager Terry Francona planned to meet with Colon about moving him to the pen.  Colon allegedly never showed up to the meeting…twice. 

Then, Colon headed off to the Dominican for “personal matters.”  While I can’t speak to what those matters were, it’s generally believed that Colon was ticked off about relieving, and spot starting.  Apparently it’s better to not pitch at all, or in this case, pitch in the Dominican.

Colon then signed with the White Sox.  After his initial signing, it took the White Sox three days to locate Colon to talk to him.  He’d again pitch fairly well.  He’d go 3-6, but he had a respectable 4.19 ERA before going on the DL on June 9. 

Colon would rehab in Arizona, but in late June, he disappeared again.  Manager Ozzie Guillen speculated that Colon was “depressed a little bit” because of his affinity for Michael Jackson.  He would turn up, but injuries derailed his season.

Is there anything that’s fitting about this potential signing that isn’t some two-cent joke about his weight?  There is a certain amount of nostalgia, but it’s not like the masses of Cleveland are clamoring for a reunion with the former enigmatic starter.  He was good, bordering on great, but wasn’t nearly as beloved as some of the other members of those great teams.

There is the Cliff Lee factor.  Lee was the young pitching prospect in that deal I mentioned before that sent Colon to Montreal.  Unless you live under a rock. Lee just signed a five-year, $120 million deal with the Phillies, managed by Charlie Manuel, Colon’s last Tribe manager. The Phillies, a relevant, big-market team are signing relevant, marquee baseball players. 

In this case, Cliff Lee, the pitcher the Indians hoped to help take Colon’s place, which he did, and then some.  Perhaps signing Colon to a minor-league, sub-million dollar contract is some sort of karmic balance to Lee’s massive deal.  While Lee fits himself in a staff of aces, Colon could himself in a staff of players half his age.

In a bit more serious tone, Colon is a low-cost option to come onto this club and potentially fill a hole as a veteran starter.  Of course, there’s that thing about him quitting on his last two teams.  There’s also a bit of an injury issue.  There’s also that bit about not having pitched in an important game in over a year.  There’s also his weight problems.  Of course, there is all that nostalgia! 

Maybe the plan is to sign Manny as well, and create some sort of quirky Cleveland sitcom.  I’m sure we could get Betty White involved, and maybe Cerrano as well.  I’m sure we could work some sort of Allstate tie-in.  Wait a second, what are we talking about again?

My guess is that there are better options that bringing back Bartolo.  Of course, if he does sign, and it pans out for the Tribe, I could always change the name of my blog…

For those wondering at home, Colon got lit up a bit tonight, giving up six runs, three earned.  The three unearned came on a throwing error by Colon on a bunt.  Overall, Colon is a respectable 3-1 with a 1.54 ERA in six starts, and 35 innings pitched.  He’s struck out 29 and walked only 3.

Check out Bringing Back Boudreau for more Tribe info!!!

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Bernie Madoff came to town

Made off with our money

Stuck our money in his hat

And called it… pasta, some kind of pasta

That’s what these guys do.  When they stick things in their hat, proverbial or otherwise, they always call it by a pasta name.

Now, the Mets are in this murky Madoff mire.  The attorney for Madoff creditors are suing the owners of the New York Mets—Fred Wilpon, Jeff Wilpon, and Saul Katz—and the parent company of the Mets, Sterling Equities. 

Let’s back up and restate.  The trustee, Irving Picard, for the Madoff victims (aka pigeons, scammees, and shmoos) sued Sterling Equities, trying to claw back money under the belief that Sterling received money from Madoff improperly.

In baseball terms, it’s like when someone hits a home run and rounds third to see his teammates ready to greet him at home plate when the ump starts shouting something about the batter not stepping on second base. 

In other words, some victims may have fared better than others, with the ones left holding the bag looking around to see another guy with a not-so-empty bag.

What I can’t figure out is why people were so trusting of this Madoff guy anyway.  Just like my jingle at the top of the page, didn’t his name give you a clue?  Someday he might have “made off” with your funds?  Could he have been more obvious?  How about “Charles Ponzi, Jr. Investments.  We pay high interest.”  All I’m saying is that the surname might give you a foreshadowing, if I’m to believe my own theories.

Want a few examples?  Let’s go back to some of the Ponzi schemes and see who we find.  When the Greater Ministries of Tampa bilked 18,000 people out of $500 million, who was in charge?  Who put all these people in a world of hurt?  Who made them feel like they were agony?  Gerald Payne, that’s who.

When a pyramid scheme crashed down on the citizens of Albania to the tune of $1.2 billion in the mid-90s, who was in charge?  Who perpetuated such a fraud?  Enver Hoxha!  If ever you might have suspected…just a smidgen…something might be a hoax…duh!

In Costa Rica, The Brothers defrauded 6300 people out of a half-billion dollars.  Again, nobody was the least suspicious even though they knew The Brothers consisted of Luis and Osvaldo Villalobos.  If it’s good enough for Little Red Riding Hood, why not go right into the wolf’s home?

All this leads to my ongoing theory: names count.  What you’re tagged with might possibly foreshadow an occupation or a tendency, says a guy typing up a silly story with the name Stan Silliman.

I started building this theory when I was introduced to two Oklahoma City businessmen, the Fail brothers—Never and Will.  Serious as a heart attack and in his late 60’s, Never Fail was into real estate and every apartment complex he developed thrived. 

Will Fail tried business after business after business…to a point he couldn’t even get a bank loan.

I continued to study these circumstances and even took note when I started performing comedy in a trendy new nightlife hotspot called Bricktown.  The club was called Comedy Corner and owned by a lady named Shirley Bynum. 

It was near the first karaoke bar in Oklahoma City, with a book binding business behind it and the first micro-brewery in town—The Bricktown Brewery—down the block.

I wanted to double check my theory but here’s the odd thing: the business owner/name tie-in existed but it was like one business off.  The names were there in a sound-alike or slightly punned fashion, but they were tied to the wrong enterprises.

For instance, you remember Shirley Bynum? Well, her name had little to do with a comedy club.  But her name, slightly punned, became Bind’em—which fit well with a book binding company.

But the owner of the book binding company was named Singer, which would have been a great name if you owned a karaoke bar.  But the owner of the karaoke was named Brewer.  You see, perfect name to own the Bricktown Brewery.  However, the owner of the Bricktown Brewery was named Jester.  Did I mention the Comedy Club?

In some mysterious way, my theory still works but maybe a Fringe-type alternate universe sprang up when they started converting these old haunted warehouses into bistros and yuppie hangouts.  

How does this affect the Mets, you’re asking?  Really?  I lay out this semi-elegant theory and you’re still worried about the Mets? 

Here’s the answer: depending on the clawback, the Mets will still be viable.  Mets Limited Partnership invested $523 million with Madoff and received $568 million in return.  What they lose above their profit depends on many factors, including timing and perceived favoritism. 

Will the Mets come out smelling like their brand new Citi Field ballpark?  After all, Sterling Equities has a reputation to uphold.  They boast about it.  Some might call their reputation…er… sorry…the word escapes me.

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A whole new chapter was added to the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox bitter rivalry Thursday.

The Red Sox signed all-star outfielder Carl Crawford to a 142 million dollar deal forcing the Yankees to make a move.

Instead of just signing Cliff Lee, Brian Cashman came up with an ingenious plan.

Signing Lee would only improve the Yankees.  Cashman wanted to make a move that would improve the Yankees and hurt the Red Sox at the same time.

Cashman’s response: drafting Daniel Turpen in the MLB’s Rule Five Draft.

The rivalry of rivalries just got taken to a whole new level.

Turpen is a 6’4″ Goliath, a 215 pound tank that can mow down batters at the plate like a John Deer.

He humbly boasts a fast ball that accelerates faster than a Maxximus G-Force at 94 miles per hour.

Don’t blink.

Last season, he absolutely shut down opposing batters.  No one could touch him as he produced a 4.3 ERA.

Nolan Ryan who?

At the young age of 24, he’s not even at the top of his game yet.  It’s almost impossible to dream of him getting any better than he already is, but he has no ceiling.

A few months into next season, C.C. Sabathia, Mark Teixeira, Alex Rodriguez will all be jumped in terms of the greatest Yankees pick up of the past decade.

The Yankees just slapped the Red Sox organization right in the face.

Babe Ruth left Boston a curse that lasted for 86 years.  The curse Turpen leaves could, should, will last a life time.

David Daniels is an NFL Featured Columnist and Writing Intern at Bleacher Report and a Syndicated Writer.  Follow him at One Yard Short.com or on Twitter

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