Tags
Atlanta Braves, Baseball, douchebaggery, George Sherrill, incompetent boobery, Los Angeles Dodgers, San Francisco Giants, Seattle Mariners, Smaktakula's hatred of the San Francisco Giants, that shitty beard too!
By Smaktakula
You Suck So Bad It Makes Our Faces Hurt.
Sorry southpaw suckass George Sherrill has returned to the West Coast, once again in a Mariners uniform. It is perhaps fitting that Seattle is picked by most experts to come in dead last in the American League West, so Sherrill’s dependable incompetence and area code-sized ERA should prove less an embarrassment than it would to a good team, such as the 2010 Dodgers, for whom he was able to demonstrate his shittiness in games which mattered.
And, although we need hardly point it out again, this home run deliveryman has two first names. And one of ’em’s girly.
George Currently Boasts A 27.00 ERA. This Means That Over The Course Of A Nine-Inning Game, You Could Expect To Score 27 Runs Off This Dead-Armed Douche.
He Was Actually Good For The 2011 Braves, Proving This Omegadouche Is Only A Suckass When He Wants To Be.
At Least This Era Of Incompetent Boobery Is Behind Us. The Dodgers Have Suffered Enough.
We Might Not Be So Down On This Cock-Knocker If He'd Just Chosen A More Fitting Team For Which To Suck.
That You Paid Money For The Thing Says Quite A Bit About You. That You Allowed The Moment To Be Captured In A Photograph Tells Us Everything Else We Need To Know.
In His Heart-Of-Hearts, George Knows He's A Douchebag.
Promethean Times 
Mets won 3 in a row so far, baby!!!!
That’s the extent of my baseball interest these days.
I had a customer who was a long-time Mets fan (I assume since ’62, although I don’t know how long he’s lived on the West Coast). When last I saw him, he was about 72, and had just given up playing baseball (baseball!–not softball) because his knee wouldn’t let him. I have another West Coast buddy who’s liked the Mets since ’86 (and although I’m not a fan of the Mets, I certainly approve of them more than any of my friend’s hometown Bay Area teams).
So with the two of them and now you, I know a total of three Mets fans.
Four. You’ve known me for a whole three months now.
Well, I knew they were out there. I imagine we’re most likely united in Yankee-hating. Thanks for stopping by!
Jesus I hate baseball. I blame the Masshole because I’m somewhat up on the goings on in the MLB. Well mostly, the goings on, of the Red Sox.
Adrienne, please believe me when I say I hope that Seattle can somehow unload Sherrill on Boston, so that you can experience the futile douchebaggery first-hand (although he’ll probably turn good).
In the late 1990s, Seattle traded a couple young no-names (Derek Lowe and Jason Varitek) to Boston for the legendary Heathcliff Slocumb. So Boston kinda owes the M’s.
Funny story about D-Lowe. The Masshole got a ball from him. We went to Chicago and got ridiculous seats to a game at Wrigley. We could touch the caps of the visiting team’s pitchers in the bullpen. They happened to be playing the Braves. The Masshole made sure D-Lowe saw her wearing her Red Sox tee shirt.
Good to know more of that history.
I’ll be honest. As soon as I saw this post was about baseball, my eyes glazed over and my mind wandered to whether there were any egg-shaped M&Ms leftover in my kids’ Easter candy. But I was pleased to discover your use once again of one of my favorite Smaktacular sayings, which is noneother than “Cock-Knocker” (but if asked, I will deny any such claim).
That being said, I face the near daily horror of having to see the ridiculous, racist logo of the Cleveland Indians on far too many car bumpers. In fact, I think I may post on that someday. Chief Wahoo does not deserve the degradation hoisted upon him.
My apologies for misspelling Smaktakular. Mrs. DeBoard would not be pleased…
But who cares what that Ukulele-strumming hag has to say, right?
I agree with you regarding Chief Wahoo, although in most cases I think complaints about teams with Indian-themed names are so much pissy nonsense. You don’t see Scandinavians bitching about “The Vikings,” or semi-retarded poodle-fuckers bitching about “The San Francisco Giants.”
The one exception to the above: The Redskins. I can’t fathom how that name has lasted as long as it has.
It’s not even the name that I think is so offensive, but rather the red-faced, smiling baffoon image with a feather sticking out of his head. At least the University of North Dakota Fighting Sioux logo has some dignity to it.
Again, I agree. And I should add that I do understand some of the uproar about tribe-specific names (as you may have heard, UND was forced to give up the Fighting Sioux name by, I believe, the NCAA), such as the Blackhawks.
Yes they were, but that name won’t easily disappear. UND’s hockey team is their baby.
Yeah, I didn’t have to spend very long in the Great Flat before I found THAT out!
Maybe you’ll be interested to know I took a puck to the head during a UND Fighting Sioux hockey game when I was a teenage lass. I wish I were kidding. But I turned fine out just…
I got struck in the head by a bus as a child (for reals) and I also turned fine out just, so I think the hype about head trauma is just that–hype. But yes, I was interested to know that. Great story.
And given your upbringing, it’s not surprising that you are unfamiliar with baseball. You live in Ohio, home of the Indians and the Reds (who, after taking Griffey from the Mariners in 1999, didn’t appreciate what they had), both of whom have won World Series Championships as recently as the 90s (1990 for the Reds, which is ACTUALLY the 80s, but since no one else recognizes that I’ve given up), but are ever-so-forgettable. When you take into account that North Dakota has only produced a handful of ball-players (it’s a shame ball-players aren’t sorghum or rye; ND would be a baseball powerhouse), despite one of them being the plucky Darin Erstad, your baseball deprivation is completely understandable and even forgivable.
Sorry, eyes glazing over again…
(and I apologize in advance–there’s something downright perverse in my nature)
Then perhaps you’ll enjoy my reminiscing about the Indians’ road to the World Series in 1995, as seen through the eyes of a Mariners fan. Maybe grab a drink and get a comfy chair.
I remember it as if it were yesterday, and not seventeen years in the past. The formerly hapless Mariners, behind the freakish talent of an in-his-prime Randy Johnson; a burgeoning young superstar in Ken Griffey Jr.; the greatest designated hitter of all time, Edgar Martinez; and a host of gutty gamers like Jay “the Bone” Buhner, Joey Cora, Sterling Hitchcock (love that name!), Tino Martinez, Luis Sojo and Doug Strange, had reached the playoffs for the first time in the team’s 19-year history. Although I was in California at the time, the infectious optimism espoused in the Seattle slogan “Refuse To Lose” found me all the way in Southern California.
Of course, just a few weeks before, the M’s appearance in the playoffs seemed at the very least fanciful. Down a whopping 13 games to the Angels in August, the M’s staged one of the greatest comebacks in baseball history (abetted by one of the greatest collapses in baseball history) to force an extra tie-breaker game with the Angels, in which the Mariners routed them.
No one expected Seattle to make it out of the first round of the playoffs. Their opponent, after all, was the resurgent Yankees, who were expected to demolish the M’s in at most four games. It took five, but when the dust cleared, it was the Cinderella-Story Mariners who emerged from the fray.
Then they went on to play the Indians, who beat them and then went on to win the World Series, I guess.
Okay, now you’re just seeing if I’m paying attention. I believe the Atlanta Braves won the 1995 World Series against the Indians. And yes, I had to look that up. And yes, I think I will get that drink now. I’ve earned it.
You have earned it. And although you nicely provided me an out, I was mistaken about the Indians’ victory. There are fewer teams I’d rather watch duke it out than the Braves and the Indians. Hey, wait a minute… those names…
You never even once mentioned the Orioles. Not once. I believe they won a game once–can I steal “incompetent boobery and “poodle fucker?” I may alter “poodle fucker” to make it apply to the even more upscale: “labradoodle fucker.” What do you think?
Thank, you Jennifer! I believe that vulgarity is our common heritage, yours to take and do with as you like.
I apologize for not mentioning the orioles. They’re lovely birds, although we don’t see them much on this side of the country. Kind of a coincidence, since we were talking about baseball, but there used to be a Major League team called the Baltimore Orioles. Cal Ripken played for them and they were hella cool. I think they ended up becoming the Montreal Expos or something.
Oh, yeah…I forgot…I don’t pay attention to baseball like I should…my bad…they sucked anyway!
No joke, that guy has major D-bag face. I think some people were destined to be asswipes. Guys named Rick? People with wispy mustaches? Women who have concave butts? They can’t help it.
Damn, Jen–those are awesome additions to the annals of asswipery. Concave butts? I can’t get my head around that.
Once again you’ve posted a well written, informative, and of course completely factual piece on someone who I had no idea existed. Well done!
Like crubin above, my lack of interest in the subject was quickly swept away by a well placed ‘cock-knocker’. Again…well done!
Thanks so much, Alex. I find that a well-placed vulgarity trumps substance every time!
I know nothing about this sport, but I will gladly join you in your loathing of this sports anti-hero, since he bears an uncanny resemblance to a total douche I made the mistake of going out with once 🙂 I refer to him as ‘the one that taught me never to trust someone whose eyes are too close together’ 🙂
I’m surprised biology class didn’t impart the eyes lesson to you! I appreciate your sight-unseen loathing; let me assure you, it’s well-placed. Thanks for the comment!
I’m intrigued by what makes this fellow such a douche, beyond (judging by his ERA) his apparent inability to throw a baseball. If that’s the only qualification for douchebaggery, then what does that say for the rest of the Mariners’ pitching staff?
. . . sorry, that was an especially cheap shot, coming as it did from a fan of the Colorado Rockies (team motto: “But we try really hard.”)
Cheap shot though it might have been, it’s a fair question. Some Guy, I’m not so shallow as to label a man a douchebag because he gives up a few runs early in the season (a caveat: I mean that I would not label him so in writing; what I say to the television set is another matter). George “The Brim Reaper” Sherrill’s douchebaggery is long-standing. As I indicated in the piece, his woeful incompetence might not stand out as much on the M’s, but it was terribly, terribly evident for the 2010 Dodgers.
We can both take some solace in the fact that, so far in the 2012 season, Tim Lincecum of the San Francisco Poodle-Fuckers is throwing nothing but beachballs. Schadenfreude is a beautiful thing.