The Season So Far (Or, A Microcosm of the Sublimely Terrible)
One fine evening in mid-December, a surprising bit of news was brought by the desert wind from the wastelands to the West. For a brief moment, respite from overwhelming despair was found within its fair embrace. Zack Greinke to the Diamondbacks! Hope, then. Unfortunately Antonio and David (clearly this is the problem, for those are not the names of Blessed Mother Russia!) had tricked us more surely, leading us on as did Polina that fair afternoon in Roulettenburg. That which transpired yesterday night showed their treachery, for although the news that wind brought was shown to be fair indeed, failure to adequately defend the right flank left our forces routed, with only the long, cold, winter ahead. Ah! the blinding white! The snow, ever swirling! Freezing in a pointless wilderness!
D-backs Win Streak Ends at Four After Loss to Dodgers
Alas, the roulette wheel would not ever come up red, and so now all is black!
Diamondbacks Rally Comes Too Little, Too Late in Loss to Dodgers
Much as my winning at Roulette. Too little and too late, and only when gambling for other people, never for me. At least perhaps if I follow Polina to Switzerland, my health will improve. That is, unless she accepts my offer to leap from the cliff.
Pitch Mix a Focus for Shelby Miller
Miller is starting yet again, continuing our slow tread into the abyss. How loathsome it is! Astley criticized me for having a gambling problem. I must introduce him to Chip Hale sometime; he is the definition of the gambler's fallacy, with his always thinking that Miller can't be as bad as he was last time, and that if he keeps selecting him, the wheel must one day come up in his favor.
Mitch Haniger Making Adjustments
Our fellow fan site Venom Strikes with a write-up on Haniger.
Benches Clear in Diamondbacks-Dodgers Game
Already posted, I know. Yet I must bemoan that no one threw an actual punch. After all, if there is no god, then everything is permitted, so why not pitch inside whenever one wishes?
Clayton Kershaw Really, Really Enjoyed Pranking Baxter
As far as pranks go, I give this a D-minus. Come on, no pie in the face? No water balloon over the head. No hitting Baxter repeatedly over the head with a baseball bat?
In Happier Lands
A Specific Kind of Golden Age for Shortstops
To switch from 19th-Century Russian novelist to Pythonesque Yorkshireman, back in my day we didn't quibble about what kind of golden age it was. If you had a shortstop who was more silver or bronze, you enjoyed it and were happy. After all, you were lucky to have a shortstop. Some of us just had a hole in the ground, covered with a tarp, with five hobos sleeping in it, and had to get up for work every night, fifteen minutes before we went to bed.
This May Be the Best Chance the Cubs Get at World Series
Cubs winning the World Series? Such a break with tradition. We cannot break with tradition, for it is our lifeblood, and if we lose our rootedness in this land, we shall ever be orphans, unable to grow aright, or mix metaphors.
Twins' GM Search Raising Serious Concerns
At least we may not have the most dysfunctional leadership in baseball!
Finally, A Recipe
Southern Fried Rattlesnake
I'm not sure this is the exact recipe the rest of the league used, but we're cooked either way.