CHICAGO, IL – I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore. There. I said it. What’s up your [bleep], you ask? Well, a lot. But we’d be off-topic and typing for days to get it all out, so let’s just keep it to two sports-related angst-inducers: MLB Costume Cops, Oven Mitts, Rich Players with Interpreters
MLB Costume Cops
My wife, who is a dancer and knows very little about sports, will take glance up at the TV while I’m watching a game and say, “I don’t like their costumes.” Thus, the use of “costume” instead of “uniform.” Now back to our story…
I like the Mets still young-ish catcher Francisco Alvarez. I like him despite his penchant for month-long hitting swoons and his mind-numbing challenges of balls and strikes in meaningless situations – and being wrong 99% of the time. He’s energetic, always smiling and a hard worker.
With that as our backdrop, let’s get back to the costume/uniform thingy. Two definitions of “uniform” are:
–dress of a distinctive design or fashion worn by members of a particular group and serving as a means of identification
–presenting an unvaried appearance of surface, pattern, or color
Last night, Alvarez’s neon yellow catcher’s equipment, cleats and lime green sleeves, drove me over the top. I don’t give a sh*t that they represent the colors of your home nation’s flag. Nor do I care that this is Players Weekend throughout the league. Your home nation isn’t writing your [large] checks. You team nation is writing them. And a team nation plays in UNIFORMS! The colors are blue and orange! If you’re color blind, get help from the bullpen catcher (whose job I desperately want).
I know all of you out there are likely thinking: “Hey, it’s not just the kid! They’re all doing it, all the time.” You’re right. They are. From their long-sleeve undershirts, to their hockey elbow pads, wrist guards, padded batting gloves, ankle covers – and, God forbid they get on base – their oven mitts. F*CKING OVEN MITTS!!! Let me ask you this, folks: If you’re a middle-infielder, would your rather a diving opponent’s fingers in an oven mitt coming at you or high-flying spikes while you’re simultaneously trying to field the ball and tag them out? If you’re answer was “oven mitts,” this column is not for you.
SLIDE FEET F*CKING FIRST!!!
How many fingers and wrists need to be dislocated before this RIDICULOUSLY STUPID sliding variation is made extinct?!
Man, I just had an epiphany of sorts. Add Oven Mitts to the top of my angst-inducers. De-prioritize the Costume Cops, we need the Slide Police to step up first.
Rich Players with Interpreters
I know. I’ve been beating this dead horse for quite some time but Jesus H. Alou, it’s a problem that needs addressing. Here are my simple rules for using an interpreter:
1) You’re in the league less than two years.
2) If you make over $1,000,000.00 per year after two years, you cannot use an interpreter.
3) MLB and the Players’ Association should mandate language tutors for all minor league, overseas free agents and drafted players. There in no way, in any shape or form a Starling Marte, after 15 seasons and $133.000.000.00 earned in the USA, should be allowed to use an interpreter. I’m looking at you, “Show Me The Money” Ohtani!
NO. F*CKING. WAY.
Oh, and get this – Alvarez went from NOT using an interpreter, to using one! Why? Because Marte got in his ear playing with him last year. Rumors that he did so through his interpreter are yet to be verified.
Thank you for listening.
Please feel free to comment below and come back tomorrow for Shakin’ Jake Sternberg, who’ll likely talk Johnnie’s and Mets because that’s exactly what his twin brother, Jackson, talked about yesterday.
