Posts Tagged: David Roth

A.J. Pierzynski's Mid-Coital Yawp

David Roth: Do you think VH1 is ready for "Baseball Wives" as a spinoff of "Basketball Wives"?

David Raposa: Do you think Jerry Seinfeld asked the world if it was ready for "The Marriage Ref"?

David Roth: He only asks rhetorical questions, but you're right. I am picturing the same level of heated incoherence and wine-faced ill will as "Basketball Wives," definitely the same turn-back-the-clock-on-gender-perceptions vibe. But everyone wears eye-black in the opening credits and it is set in Boston. And the cast is someone who divorced Bill Mueller back in 2003, Curt Schilling's wife, a kind of trampy lady who says she dated Mark Bellhorn, and a diva [...]


Website Wants Money

What do Awl pals Eric Freeman, David Roth and Bethlehem Shoals have in common? Well, they're Awl pals. But also this.


The Pynchonian Bullpen

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 [...]


That’s So Taguchi

David Roth: Did you just see the ad for the prescription trigylceride medication with the line "side effects include burping?" Oh no, you didn't, it was on the Mets game. You're not watching the Mets game. You are so smart.

David Raposa: I thought gas was a natural Mets by-product

David Roth: Side effects of watching the Mets include sob-burping (or sobburping) as well as misery-bloat, teary eyes, perineal fenestration and perforated headaches.

David Raposa: Goddamn that Carlos Beltran.

David Roth: He's only 65 to 70 percent as ridiculously over-blamed as he used to be.

David Raposa: He should try to hit more five-run homers. Do you [...]


Passover At Guy Fieri’s House

Don’t ask how we got this. It’s not important how we got this. But here’s how we got this: Despite his photographic-negative-with-sunglasses-on-the-back-of-his-head aesthetic, celebrity chef, startlingly discomfiting physical presence and “Minute To Win It” host Guy Fieri is, it turns out, an Awl reader. After Jeff Johnson and I discussed a speculative obesity-enhancement device known as a “sauce wash” in this Yakkin’ About Football chat, Fieri’s lawyers called us to see if we had patented the invention. Long story short, we’ve all now got plenty of those Quiznos's dollars to spend, and I blow the occasional weekend riding around in Guy’s classic Dodge Charger, watching him get gravy [...]


The Animal Collective Of The AL East

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 [...]


How Much Super Bowl Is Too Much Super Bowl?

On Thursday morning, I went to the Paley Center for Media—which used to be the Museum of Television and Radio, and still kind of is, although it's now called the Paley Center for Media—and was brought down into a basement dubbing room, where I watched something that was long thought not to exist. It's a tape of the CBS broadcast of Super Bowl I, which was played in front of roughly 61,000 spectators and 30,000-plus empty seats at Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, on January 15, 1967. Since then, the game has been famously unseen and unseeable, outside of some sideline footage shot by NFL Films.

Neither CBS nor [...]


Gain Weight The Andruw Jones Way

David Raposa: So did you see my public plea to read Frank Deford's abominable plan to destroy baseball?

David Roth: I feel for him. I like Frank Deford as an idea, and sometimes as a writer. I will always ride for an old sportswriter who rocks elbow-patch blazers and acts like someone who rocks elbow-patch blazers. There will not be more like him. It's not like Gregg Doyel is ever going to lose the TapouT tees and Thousand Island-magnet facial hairs and somehow age into class. So it's a drag to see Old Frank trolling.

David Raposa: Even with the well-maintained moustache, pomade, and monogrammed cigarette case, he's [...]


Bronx Bombers, Defective Robots

David Roth: I've been on vacation in a place without TV and alarmingly rich in Phillies fans. But I wanted to clear something up with you in re: Yadier Molina's Crazy Eyes Killer routine with that ump.

David Raposa: Thank you for reminding me to witness that bit of TV history (before MLB brings the Sledge-O-Matic down on YouTubers). What is your question, esteemed colleague?

David Roth: Do you think that, since he got that neck tattoo, Yadier feels like he needs to act tough? Like step out of Bengie's shadow, not be known as The Molina Who Can't Eat All That Many Pancakes?

David Raposa: I thought [...]


Jim Leyland Wants To Know Your Intentions

David Roth: Sorry to be late. But I wanted to watch the end of the Mets game, and K-Rod's post-save Jesus-Thank has gotten so elaborate and time-consuming. The game ended almost 10 minutes ago.

David Raposa: Yeah, I turned the channel after he brought out the crown of sunflower seeds.

David Roth: Any savior worth worshipping would've appreciated it, though. The God I believe in really would appreciate Rodriguez laying out the money to hire the Blue Angels for that flyover.

David Raposa: It's too bad there aren't more Scientologists in MLB. I'd love to see the tats and semaphore they'd employ to give L. Ron some love.

David [...]


Luke Scott's 'American History K'

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 [...]


Playing Sega Genesis With Manny Ramirez

David Roth: David Raposa, I think you pissed off Tony La Russa. He gets asked these sad I-am-really-on-deadline-right-now questions every day as part of his job. Shouldn't he know how to answer these questions a little less… ulcerously?

David Raposa: Well, David Roth, I have to say that is some weaksauce ranting. He didn't even mention Kurt Bevacqua. Granted, beat reporters are stuck asking that sort of "well duh" nonsense in order to file copy. But he's just trying to rally the troops. Even the ones he can’t remember by name. "You think those Mendoza Lining clowns I field every day to hit behind the pitcher can't [...]


The NFL Negotiates The Apocalypse

Eyes either narrow or widen, depending, and voices come up a tense octave. There's a certain palpable raising of the drawbridge from the man responding: the question or statement is contemptible, and it is very clearly being held in contempt, and this discussion is going to end just as soon as it can be ended. The reason it doesn't end right then, right after the word gets said, is that these are professionals, professional football players and smooth spokesmen both. And so the proper responses—"no, not at all"; "that's most definitely not how we see ourselves"—make their way out and into the microphones and notebooks and early-week assessment pieces. [...]


Winded And Rapey

Jeff: For the longest time, _________ was regarded as:

The Emmy Rossum of Practice Squad Linebackers The Ross Verba of Offensive Linemen of the ‘10s Nico Noga 2.0 The Barbara Corcoran of Challenge Flag throwers The Professor Griff of Tight Ends The Bob Barker of Onside Kicks The Josef Mengele of Quarterback Coaches The Hans Blix of Referees The Dale Carnegie of Strength Coaches Who Trip The Jeremy Shockey of Punters The Anthony Kiedis of Fullbacks The Freddie Mercury of Owners The Gordon Jump of Defensive Line Coaches The Gordon Lish of Offensive Coordinators The Antonino Gaudi of Wide Receivers The Robert Redford of Punters The Steve Kroft [...]


Randy Wolf’s Most Adequate Moments

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.


The Michael Kay Diet

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 [...]


LeBron James Can't Hear You

Haters, am I right? Just waiting for you to fail, pulling for it with all the sad vigor in their mean, withered selves—it's like they take all the things that are wrong with their lives and put them on you, blame you for what's wrong with them and expect you to take the punishment for them. Am I right, though? It's not a rhetorical question.

I honestly do not know if I'm right, because haters just are not a thing in my life or probably in yours, or really in the lives of anyone with a reasonable self-image. You will see a teenager on mass transit in a hater-baiting [...]


Ask Your Doctor About Benzinger's Disease

David Raposa: Hey, here's an MLB reality-show pitch: "BEST SHAPE OF YOUR LIFE." You get your Cabreras and your Jobas together at some exotic locale during the off-season, put them through their paces, get a Jillian Michaels knock-off to rip them a new one every time they smuggle in some Archway molasses cookies, etc.

David Roth: Hosted by Rich Garces and Summer Sanders.

David Roth: "They all eat hot dogs like Tic Tacs, but only one of these contestants will be able to report to Spring Training and say… 'I'm in the best shape of my life.'"

David Raposa: CASH MONEY.

David Roth: License up those fake [...]


Consider The Pizza

"If you are the sort of person who sees televised images of something called 'The Tuscan Six-Cheese Pizza' (or even the meaningless words 'Tuscan Six-Cheese Pizza') and thinks 'fuck yes, and let me get some breadsticks and a side of ranch with that,' then the commercials work for you and of course good luck with your diabetes. If you see those commercials and do not think that, then you just avoided engagement with a Tuscan Six-Cheese Pizza, and also probably dodged a clammy and miserable evening of junior coronary incidents. So maybe I should bitch less about Papa John's, I guess? Pizza Hut, though, deserves no such quarter." —Awl pal [...]


This Is What You Get

Even before his disgrace, Isiah Thomas was a strange and complicated case. A product of Chicago's most blighted and Candyman-afflicted ruins, Thomas became a star at a Catholic high school in the suburbs. He survived two years of bellowing abasement at the hands of noxious windbreaker aficionado and total psychopath Bobby Knight at Indiana University, graduating to the NBA with a dazzling and idiosyncratic game, then went on to make a dozen All-Star teams and win a pair of NBA Championships with the Detroit Pistons. All of which is actually a pretty conventional, if obviously rarified, narrative. What made Thomas weird, then, was around the edges—the too-fulsome smile beaming [...]