April 21, 2009
By Adam “Sully” Sullivan… The most beloved perennial disappointment in my life for the past 15 years has been the Toronto Blue Jays baseball club. This year they’ve gotten off to a tremendous 10-4 start to the season. That record is good enough for third in all of the major leagues. So until the wheels come off their weak rotation and the bats inevitably fall flat, it’s Let’s Go Blue Jays. At least I’m not some retard Yankees fan. Observe…
July 3, 2008
by Adam “Sully” Sullivan…
Oh A-Rod, when will you ever learn? Undeniably the best talent in baseball appears to have put all of his skill-stock into athleticism and forgotten everyday things like common sense and discretion.
It all started back in May 2007 when Rodriguez put Toronto on the MLB infidelity map by being spotted with a blonde woman reported to be a stripper from Scores Las Vegas. When the news broke, it broke hard, being reported in various North American newspapers including the New York Post.
Earlier this week, a brand new story was released alleging that Mr. October (of his contract year) was seen leaving pop star Madonna’s New York City apartment building. At first glance, it was dismissed as a rumour until US Weekly ran the story Tuesday. Now it’s official. We all know that once a tabloid like US prints something, it is undoubted fact. From the Top 10 Summer Beach Bodies to a comprehensive list of Colin Farrell’s lovers, I have been getting my world news from these publications since Madonna was still semi-attractive.
When I heard about the latest in the A-Rod sex game, I didn’t know whether to laugh or be disappointed. You have one of the most popular guys in sports, who can conceivably get down with pretty much anyone woman out there, and he chooses Madonna? First off, she’s old now. She’s old and “experienced” to put it lightly. To put it not so lightly, A-Rod is into the sluts. First with a stripper and now Madonna, Rodriguez is single-handedly keeping NYC health clinics in business.
All jokes aside, someone saying a rumour is true, whether it’s coming from a tabloid or the woman your grandma gets her hair done with doesn’t make it a fact. That is, of course, unless it’s about Alex Rodriguez. From confusing an infielder by calling “mine” on a routine pop-up to dogging it until his contract year, he will never get the benefit of my doubt. Hey A-Rod, just do me the favour of being caught with someone a little hotter and less cougar than Madonna next time. Oh, and for the love of god, wrap it up…twice.
June 25, 2008
by Adam “Sully” Sullivan…
What is it about Toronto Sports Media that drives the entire city mad? I can’t have a conversation with anyone even remotely interested in sports without being dragged down into a depression rivaling post WW1. Regurgitation is at a premium and the food for thought has gone bad. In Toronto, talking with someone about our teams is about as productive as reading the sports page. I do that when I’m alone and bored, not when I’m seeking meaningful human interaction. It seems that we’re only happy here in Toronto when we win back to back championships. Well dynasties aren’t easy to come by. That’s what makes them dynasties. Grow up. Everyone. Be a realist. You want heartache? Move to Chicago. Yeah the White Sox won a World Series and if anyone in Southside Chicago stopped pretending they ever gave two squirts about them, you’d see just how meaningless that really was. The only person that was excited about the White Sox winning a title was that kid we all knew in school who showed up with a Sox hat that year and a Red Sox hat the year before and a Marlins hat the year before that, and a…you get the point. I’m getting off topic. The point I’m making is that every year in each sport there is only one winner.
I don’t think I need to tell anyone that the last time the Leafs won the cup was the last time the NHL only had six teams. In this day and age we have 30 teams, on average, per league. Someone has to be the loser and believe me, it’s all cyclical. Was 1993 that long ago? Put on a Cubs hat and wait 100 years. Better yet, get in your time machine and go back to 2002 and ask a Boston sports fan about their teams. If you could decipher the God-awful accent, it would be a slew of expletives with the words “Celts”, “Sox”, “Paaaaats”, “saaaacks”, and “haaaaarrible” sprinkled in there. Look at them now: On top of the sports universe. They have a championship basketball team, perennial contenders in baseball, a dynasty worthy NFL squad, and yes…delectable clam chowder. It’s all about patience. You need patience to be a sports fan. If for any reason, have patience because you don’t want to be mistaken for being from Boston.
We all just need to exert a little patience here. The Raps have a capable Bryan Colangelo at the helm and are a decent center away from going to the finals. The Leafs have cleaned house and finally conceded the inevitability of rebuilding. The Jays are spending money and they’re ready to spend more and that’s all that counts in baseball. Hell I’ll even go out on a limb and say their season isn’t over. The playoffs? Probably not. Respectability? Yes indeed. We needed offensive production and Cito Gaston, as much of a gimmick as he has become, will provide us that. So put on your shiniest smiley face and bear through the hard times because Toronto sports is not on the decline; and at the end of the day, when one of these teams does start winning when it counts, you won’t look like a jackass hypocrite for enjoying it. The media doesn’t dictate your passion, and it sure as hell doesn’t buy your ticket. It’s okay to be down on your team once in a while, but it’s a whole other hockeybasebasketball game to be a run of the mill Toronto sports fan. If you can’t take the bad with the good, maybe you can ask that kid back in school to buy his White Sox hat; he’d sure as hell sell it to you now.
June 20, 2008
by Sully Sullivan…
Guy That Takes it Too Seriously
Weight: A lean mean 215
Likes: Humiliating his kids at swimming lessons, red-lighting 3-0 counts, legging out singles, anabolic steroids.
Dislikes: Losing softball games and his hair and his wife and…listen this guy just doesn’t like to lose.
Day Job: Grade School Gym Teacher
“Listen up you skirt twirling fairy dancers. My name’s Darren and I’m here to BRING THE PAIN. We will not lose. If we lose one game, I will personally kill all of your children with my fists. I’m only playing in this league because Sundays are my relax day. Monday through Saturday, I play in real ultra competitive leagues. You know…the type of leagues where you get boot fucked in the parking lot post game for not turning a double play. As you can see, I bulked up a little this off season and dropped two jock sizes in the process. It’s a lot easier to leg out a double when your scotum is half the size of a regular adult male’s. I use the extra jock space to stash my chew. No you may not have any. Maybe if you got on base once in a while you kool-aid guzzling faglets. Hey, you could all actually maybe be halfway not losers if you just came to the batting cages with me for like 8…maybe 9 hours. Cool, I’ll pick you all up at 6 am next Tuesday. I think we have a pretty solid team this year. You men don’t seem to be too gay and I’m pretty sure that at least three of you six women are lesbians. That’s a great non-gay male to gay female ratio…maybe the best in the league. Honestly, if we don’t win it all this year, I’m going to rape someone. I mean that.”
Woman Who Only Plays To Keep an Eye on Her Husband
Likes: Husband, Love, Affection, Kisses…lots of kisses
Dislikes: Bitches, whores, sluts, floosies, overtime work, undertime work, business trips, dead cell phones, secretaries (see whores).
Day Job: Homemaker
“Hi, I’m Sharon. I have a wonderful husband named Peter. He’s right over there…HI SWEETIE PETEY. Alright he’s not paying attention to me right now. I LOVE SOFTBALL. With the bats and the running and the teamwork. This is really exciting. It’s fun to get outdoors with my wonderful husband. Why does a softball team need so many women though? I think I could handle it if all you girls just want to go home or to the bar to pick up married men or whatever you do. Hey Marla, try some of the cookies I brought for everyone. Take two actually…if your hands are full, maybe they won’t be all over my husband for two minutes. No Peter, I will not take it easy. I don’t care if we *air quotes* talked about this.”
Never Played Before in His Life Guy
Height: 5′6 tops
Weight: 125 with his shoes on
Likes: Reading, the internet, reading the internet, computer languages, Star Trek languages, Middle Earth languages, comic books
Dislikes: Jocks, athletes, super wedgies, purple nurples, bad words, ear infections
Day Job: Sells science fiction crap on Ebay
“Hey guys! I’m Clinton! I’ve been playing rockball for years. Huh? Yeah softball, that’s what I said. My mom said if I didn’t get out of the house more, I’d lose internet privileges. See if I even care. She’s always with that jerk Gary these days anyhow. Let’s play guys, I’m ready to go. I have my baseball stick and my hand…catching…thinger. This is going to be the best summer since I finger banged Sheila at art camp 3 years ago.”
Big Fat Drunken Sweaty Guy
Weight: An unhealthy 275
Likes: Coors Light and ONLY Coors Light, Hawaiian shirts, visors, Perspirex, America, talking loudly
Dislikes: Running, diving, trying, That Nazi imported shit beer, sharts, hot weather, cold weather, weather, party poopers
Day Job: Mail Sorter
“Hey…pssst…shhh dude you’re gonna get us caught. C’mere. Yeah come over for a sec. Check out what I got in the back of my truck man. Yeah that’s a 2-4 of Coors Light. There’s three left, you want one? C’mon don’t be a pussy. You’re being a pussy…have one…there you go. I’m Chuck by the way. Oh man, thank god I’m not the boogie man because I just can’t stay away from these silver bullets…OHHHHHHHH…I just thought of that just now. No, dude…I’m pretty sure it’s the boogie man. Werewolves? Get out of here! You’re drunk man. You’re SO FUCKING DRUNK…I’m MOTHERFUCKING LOVING IT…WHOOOOOOOOOO.”
Height: 5′9…5′11 with afro mullet
Weight: A lean mean 215
Likes: Tori Amos, steak, A1 steak sauce, arm wrestling, Die Hard parts 1 and 3, karate
Dislikes: Pretty women, pretty kids, pretty much everyone, penis
Day Job: Garbage Man…er…Garbage Woman? That doesn’t sound right.
“What’s up pussies? The name’s Gert. Actually it’s Gert the Hurt. In fact, I must be called Gert the Hurt or I will fuck you up. That’s not a warning…that’s a threat. I’m the clean up hitter. Does anyone have a problem with that? Didn’t think so. Yes I smell like garbage, there’s no denying it, but YOU WILL act like I don’t or I’m going to put my orthopedic knee brace through your eye socket. I will be playing first base….and third base…and catcher…and outfield. You know what? We’d be better off just letting me play the entire game alone because I don’t see one non-bitch in front of me. My friend Paula comes to watch every game and if I catch even one of you sackless dick lickers even look at her, it’s on. You know what ‘it’s on’ means? No? Then it’s on.”
June 14, 2008
by Adam “Sully” Sullivan…
Forget commandeering a multi-million dollar professional sports franchise, I wouldn’t even suggest John Gibbons be the manager of a McDonalds: the fries would always be left in too long and not a single burger would cross a plate when it actually mattered.
Baseball insiders have questioned the motives behind Gibbons’ hire and subsequent promotion through the ranks of the Blue Jays’ on-field management team. Gibbons made just 18 appearances in the entirety of his Major League career as a catcher before retiring in 1990. He spent the better part of 9 seasons in the minor leagues with a laundry list of injuries that makes A.J. Burnett look like Cal Ripken Jr.
Gibbons began his stay with the Blue Jays as a bullpen catcher in 2002; presumably a favor granted by former minor league roommate and current Jays General Manager J.P. Ricciardi. While rooming with Ricciardi, what sort of miraculous deeds did Gibbons perform to warrant a promotion from bullpen catcher to first base coach, and eventually, to team manager. Obviously J.P. and Johnny shared a close relationship, which is hard to believe, given the fact that Gibbons has notoriously butted heads with many people throughout his five year reign.
Gibbons’ relationship with his players has been volatile, beginning with Dave Bush in 2005. After an altercation with Gibbons, Bush was sent to the minors, and, following a trade in the offseason, the only thing “bush” that was left in Toronto was Gibbons’ management style. Since then, Gibbons publicly clashed with DH Shea Hillenbrand and starter Ted Lilly. No manager can be on good terms with every player coming through their clubhouse, but the departure of these players hurts when their absences are due, in large part, to the Jays management’s reluctance to rid the team of the standings anchor that has become John Gibbons. I think everyone could look past these squabbles except that the Jays are losing ball games as a direct result of their manager’s dumbfounded decisions.
In the end, baseball is just a pastime and for John Gibbons, bullpen mismanagement is the name of the game. It is no coincidence that no pitcher on the 1992 Blue Jays World Series winning team averaged more than 7 innings pitched per game. In fact if you remove the 21 game-winner, Jack Morris, from the equation, the rotation averaged just a tad over 6 innings pitched per game. Fast forwarding to the present, we see the likes of Jesse Litsch and A.J. Burnett going deep into close ball games to the detriment of the team. Maybe John Gibbons knows something that we, Cito Gaston, and a World Series ring doesn’t. I think Adam Lind getting on base is probably more likely.
While attending a recent game against the Chicago White Sox, I witnessed an example of Gibbons’ mismanagement. Shaun Marcum started that day, and to his credit, pitched a beautiful game that came dangerously close to being ruined because of Gibbons’ reluctance to go to his bullpen.
With two outs and slugger Joe Crede on deck, John “The Genius” Gibbons decides to leave his starter in to face the red hot Carlos Quentin. Marcum, although a brilliant young pitcher, had already given up five home runs in his previous five starts. In a two run baseball game with a homerun-susceptible pitcher on the mound and two bonafide home run hitters coming up, rather than turning to a fresh bullpen, Gibbons rolls the dice - leaving Marcum on the mound.
Based purely on statistics, if Quentin got on base, the game could be tied with one swing of Joe Crede’s bat. Though the Jays went on to win the game, this pivotal decision could have soured in a heartbeat. Decisions like these should be no-brainers for a Major League caliber manager, but unfortunately John Gibbons doesn’t, and will never fit that description.
Sadly situations like Friday are business as usual for the Toronto Blue Jays who, at the time of this writing, are flirting with .500 baseball. We have nearly all the tools to be a playoff contender and one very special “tool” preventing us from getting there. Mark my words; we will never make the playoffs with a wash out like John Gibbons at the helm. You can have the nicest, fastest, and most well put together car in the world, but at the end of the day you still need a license to drive it. How many times will the Jays crash and burn before someone checks this guy’s credentials?