David Roth: Good news! I’ve secured a licensing deal for Carlos Zambrano RageBeast 27-Hour Energy Drink. Two flavors, for now: Lemon-Lime and Blind Fury. I’m still trying to figure out the ingredients, though. Any thoughts?
David Raposa: Stage blood. Preferably from a summer stock production of Oedipus.
David Roth: And hot dog water is a must. Because you need the nitrates and sodium and ambient protein. So corn syrup, food coloring… PCP?
David Raposa: Ground-up liver of Michael Barrett.
David Roth: I was trying to explain why having Keith Hernandez sit in the seats at Not-Shea Stadium to announce yesterday's Mets game was such a good idea to my wife. I embarrassed myself.
David Roth: I was saying something along the lines of, "So Keith's, like, haggling with the hot dog vendor, whose name is Orlando, because Keith says hot dogs were $5 last week and now they're $5.50. And then he asked for extra mustard, which he kept calling 'moo-tard' after that." And I felt like Ralph Kiner never feels when he's telling a 15-minute story about Daffy Dean's favorite sandwiches: like I needed to pick up [...]
David Roth: Hello! I am watching the suddenly unstoppable Mets offense bludgeon the Tigers bullpen.
David Raposa: I saw! It looked like every button Leyland tried to push turned out to be either the dashboard lighter or the ejector seat.
David Roth: I don't even know how to act when the Mets are playing like this. It's not helping the unreality factor that everyone in the Tigers pen has a name out of a Pynchon novel. Charles Furbush and Al Albuquerque, debating quantum physics in a punny way or whatever.
David Roth: Also for some reason, every Tigers game I watch features really audible hecklers. Some guy just gave [...]
David Raposa: Here is some high-quality fantasy baseball analysis: "[Joey Votto's .476 OBP is] 50 points higher than the on-base percentage he posted a year ago but he has increased that mark each of his first four seasons in the majors so he should be able to keep up this pace."
David Roth: That sentence is a joy to read. I'm so glad Rotoworld has Michael Ondaatje writing for them now.
David Raposa: How would you rejigger those bon mots, Mr. Professional Writer, Sir? "Hey, so this guy is getting on base like Barry Bonds, but he should be able to continue that ridiculous pace, so you can [...]
Baseball: it is slow, and sometimes you see sexagenarians, who are not necessarily in shape, walking around in pinstriped uniforms otherwise worn by guys several decades younger. It is drowsy and arcane and there are bro-tats and shark's tooth necklaces and action-less stretches that stretch towards the 45-minute mark. It is during one of these stretches—dudes just kind of milling around, a concerned and mustachioed old grump trotting arthritically towards the mound, the broadcasters maybe a bit tipsy or maybe not—that you should probably imagine the maunderings to follow occurring. Pretend we're some place that smells like hot dogs and old, soft, translucently fried things. It'll make it seem [...]
George Lee "Sparky" Anderson, one of Major League Baseball's all-time greats, has died. Anderson managed both the Detroit Tigers and Cincinnati Reds to World Series wins, and should also be remembered for his refusal to manage scabs in the wake of the 1994-1995 strike. Anderson was 76.