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hermitologist HERMITOLOGY -
teenarcher TEEN ARCHER
With the fifth pick in the 2012 MLB Draft, the Kansas City Royals selected RHP Kyle Zimmer of the University of San Francisco. Scouts really liked Zimmer’s above-average fastball and outstanding 11-to-5 curveball, but what really sold them on the big righthander was his plus-plus DERP. As his face settles into its own, in his late 20s and early 30s, Zimmer should possess once-in-a-generation derpability.
Comps: Jeff Karstens, Fire Marshall Bill, Your Uncle Taking A Dump
**Click the pic for a KYELL ZIMMUR SLOYDSHOAH**
(h/t @Bunch)
Quite possibly the Ultimate SciosciaFace™.
ColonFace.
Sciosciaface: A Four Act Play
(Clikc the pitchers for Soshazfais slyshow)
And what it really means is “Best DADLAP In The History Of All Time And Space”.
Holy shit. That’s one hell of a rise. We could be dealing with a legitimate two-feet here.
A tip of the cap and a hearty hike of the britches to Will Clark.
oldtimefamilybaseball:
Baseball Card of the Week:
The card may say “Best Power,” but we really know it means “Best Socks.” That’s called subtext.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
The origin of your new favorite homerun call, “WEIRDMEAT”, explained in 54 seconds.
Listen to PRODcast 8 in its entirety.
An addendum to Sam Miller’s excellent list of “The 15 Greatest Baseball Names Of No Time” at Baseball Prospectus yesterday.
- Merson Storktangle
- Wimp Pudding
- Birdario Ventriloquista
- Rectalismo Deadeaux
- Nemo Feliquez
- Quelving Sandloblan
- Lose (pronounced lo-ZAY) Delicacio
- Donnie Schpiltz
- Rune Crammler
- Terricksaw Handspray III
- Don Toast
- Mueller Anklemouse
- Wheatus Loinhandler
- Uterian Feliz
- Lark Sweatner
- Nimby Glassmüssen
- JerMackstons Bonifacianfroccolindor
Let us revel in the majesty of Garvey’s fertile swath of vintage DADLAP.
After he struck out looking against Philip Humber in Monday’s Orioles v. White Sox game, Nick Johnson slowly shuffled toward the visitors dugout, staring confusedly at his 34” piece of ash. It’d failed him again.
He’d always wondered if the brown goo that he’d been taught to rub on his bat as he waited patiently in the on-deck circle actually tasted like caramel.
It looked like caramel. It felt like caramel. It might be caramel.
Nick slowed his pace, inhaled deeply, and although he was surrounded by tens of thousands of onlookers, in that moment he felt alone.
He quickly brought the bat to his lips and began gnawing on the tacky brown goo like he was eating corn on the cob.
It wasn’t long before he realized that it was not in fact caramel, but what his pappy had always referred to as “tree boogers”. He flung the bat aside, stomped down the dugout stairs and stat on the bench making this face. Forever.