MLB recently revealed its new line of batting practice hats for each team, so naturally, our freedom is being threatened as Americans.
The Braves went ahead and brought back their wordless, logo of a Native American who looks like he’s watching Louis C.K.’s “Chewed Up” for the first time.
The important thing in all of this is that no matter how Native American groups feel about being portrayed by sports teams, this overplayed narrative about a baseball hat is a pretty clear indication that liberals have taken complete control of the media and very soon we’ll all be rounded up and forced into Communist brainwashing compounds. History will illustrate that this was merely the centerpiece of their slowly approaching endgame.
WHY DIDN’T WE PROTECT THE HATS.
Down in Miami, we have received word that at the very least, the phones are still working.
With large chunks of the roster being broken off and shipped out, it seemed that the Marlins were panicking, or calmly disassembling, or performing some kind of verb that, whatever it was, stemmed from a place detached from reality. A year removed from doing the exact opposite of this, it appeared to the the case that you could approach the Fish with any deal and, googly-eyed and wearing an outfit comprised mostly of glow sticks, they would probably take you up on it.
So when it was reported that Miami was listening to offers on Giancarlo Stanton, the scourge that baseballs tell their children about so they’ll eat their vegetables, it seemed like the Philllies prayers had been answered.
Stanton is an outfielder that people have heard and has enormous power! All Ruben has to do is trick a few nonfactor prospects into a road trip, leave them on the beach, and Stanton would arrive at Citizens Bank Park a few days later (The Fish aren’t going to pay for overnight delivery–they’re not made of money).
But alas, the Marlins are far more sane than they are being credited. The Stanton whispers are, like any team listening to deals on any player, mere protocol, and the likelihood of his move is abysmally low.
You know what guys? I think the Marlins are going to be okay.
New York Mets
The Mets traded their ace, weeks after he won them a Cy Young Award, and now they have to live with themselves.
They’re the Mets, so this was no easy task to begin with. And, in true Mets fashion, they’ve chosen to simply pretend R.A. Dickey never existed in the first place.
If you’re name is listed on the ominous scroll of people who receive a Mets holiday e-card, then you already know: The Mets saw some decent action in 2012; hanging around for a while, Johan Santana’s no-hitter, David Wright becoming the franchise leader in hits–all very nice things to squeegee out of another lost year.
What you also learned is that R.A. Dickey not only doesn’t play for the Mets anymore, he didn’t play for them at all in 2012, making zero appearances on the one minute summary of the team’s year, despite being voted the best pitcher in the league.
Was it all a mirage? Could we all have imagined the mountain-climbing, Star Wars geek knuckleballer who slung blooping nonsense at hitters over a six-month period? It certainly seems like it could have happened. But I…
**Looks down, sees farewell note in New York Daily News**
He was real! Then… then that means the Phillies–
**Checks 2012 standings, the Phillies are still terrible**
It was really hard for Mike Rizzo to call up baseball superhero Bryce Harper, you guys. You really don’t even understand. What if he, like, wasn’t ready, and stuff, you know?
On April 25, as the team he assembled prepared to play across the country in San Diego, Washington Nationals General Manager Mike Rizzo milled around a batting cage in Rochester, N.Y. He had flown from Washington the previous day with an intention he shared with few others, one of the organization’s most crucial tasks in 2012.
As the Syracuse Chiefs took batting practice, Bryce Harper spotted Rizzo and shook his hand.
“You’re here to bring me to the big leagues,” Harper said to Rizzo. “Aren’t you?”
–Adam Kilgore, Washington Post
Also, Bryce Harper is a psychic, guys. But he’s so good at baseball that his pinpoint knowledge of the future is often overlooked.
Also it doesn’t let him see walls.