Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Yosted.

It's been a pretty good year for Ned Yost. After The Debacle of '07, it appears that King Ned realized that, when your young but talented team is in the throes of an epic bed-crapping, it's best not to join in and start over-managing to insane extremes, like changing your line-up every day and manhandling your bullpen to the point that Carlos Villanueva can't lift his right arm. The better course of action with a talented team is to let them work it out -- set your line-up, give people defined roles, and let the cream rise to the top. Granted, King Ned's taken things to the opposite extreme -- using the same line-up, in terms of position, for almost forty games in a row, despite the fact that there is not one fucking reason that Craig Counsell should ever hit above 7th -- but, all things considered, it ain't been too bad.

(Note: It also helps to be able to throw CC out there every five days. It's pretty hard to screw it up when a guy is a guaranteed 8 innings in every game.)

And then, every once in a while, King Ned gets a bug in his ass and decides he has to show people that he's still making decisions. Take yesterday, for example: men on first and second, nobody out, with your hottest hitter -- The Artist Formerly Known as The Corpse of Mike Cameron -- coming up.

And King Ned calls for a sacrifice bunt.

For a moment, look beyond the fact that Cameron has been NBA Jam-style "oh my, he's on fire!" for a couple weeks now. Look at who was waiting to take his turn at the dish following the sac bunt: Bill Fucking Hall.

Listen, I know he's better against lefties. But, for fuck's sake, if you watched his first at-bat against Santana, you knew that he was striking out against that motherfucker every single time. The Riders of Johan threw Billy Brew three straight change-ups after starting with a fastball, and Hall wasn't close to any of them. Bill Hall isn't nearly smart enough to adapt at-bat to at-bat against someone like Santana. A strikeout was damn near preordained in that spot.

Bunting to get to Bill Hall so frustrated me that I was unable to find a satisfactory curse word, instead having to blend "Christ," "fuck," "assrammer," and "cunt-swab" into an indecipherable amalgamation. (It turned out something like "Ass-fu-Chri-cunt-ram," if you're wondering.)

I beg you, King Ned. Don't do shit like this. I like where things are going here. Please don't whip your dick out and piss all over it again.

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