Heaven, Hell or Hoboken

Chadwick was on to something.

Mark Poopxeira

I’ve completely neglected my blogging responsibilities lately, so today I’m gonna do a two-fer.  I’ll look at the lines and dispense some terrible gambling advice later this afternoon.

First, a story…

I went here in 1996 for my freshman year of high school.  It was a miserable experience on every imaginable level.  Somewhere along the line between the ages of 0 and 14 my parents must have picked up on some sort of look on my face that said “Oh boy…please, please I hope eventually you take me away from all of my close friends and send to me a heartless, rigid, all-dude Catholic school in urban Baltimore”.  If I had known I was giving them that look, I would have stopped. 

If nothing else came of that year, at the very least, my mother got to live vicariously through me and experience the exciting world of wacky neck-ties.  “You know Dave, all the kids use their neck-ties to express their personalities,” she told me.  I had one of ninja rabbits.  And one of gorillas hurling bananas like boomerangs.  And I think one of bears wrestling.  Apparently in 9th grade I was trying my best to express a creepy personality.  Finally my parents woke up and came to the realization that I was dying a little on the inside every day I stayed there.  And on to public school I went…

On October 9, 1996, this happened to my Baltimore Orioles.  Jeffrey F’ing Maier.

What’s the link between two of the most painful memories from a year I’d generally prefer to bury in the annals of my life story?  Well…indirectly…Mark Charles Teixeira.  Look, I’m not one of those retarded Oriole fans who wanted to burn Tex at the stake for not taking the hometown discount and shunning his Maryland brethren to align with the Evil Empire (I think we can officially stop calling them this, by the way.  The Yankees are a shoddily-run, currency-burning franchise.  The aura is gone.  There is nothing evil or intimidating about the organization whatsoever anymore.  Except for maybe Joba Chamberlain’s mother.  Really, Jackie?  Meth?).  Anyway, this is not why Mark and I are natural enemies.  We are natural enemies because he attended a high school (Mount St. Joe’s) I fundamentally despise and now plays for the team that crushed my adolescent dreams.

Here are the facts.  We are just about 5 weeks into the season.  Mark Teixeira has 96 at-bats, 19 hits, a .198 batting average, and a .339 on-base percentage.  I will now begin my campaign to bury the notion that this is only because he is a “notoriously slow starter“.  I think there is slowly mounting evidence that New York is going to crush his soul.  Man, I can only hope.  Look, fine…his career batting average is .287 and in March/April he hits .256.  OK, I’ll give you that he doesn’t necessarily come flying out of the gates.  But examine his March/April splits closer.  Since 2005:

  • 2005 – .262, 6 HR, 14 RBI (25 games)
  • 2006 – .293, 3 HR, 13 RBI (25 games)
  • 2007 – .231, 2 HR, 6 RBI (25 games)
  • 2008 – .273, 4 HR, 17 RBI (25 games)

Save for 2007, nothing above is even close to an abomination.  Hell, in 2006 and 2008 he even hit right around his career average.  Folks, he’s batting .198 right now.  And it doesn’t appear that he’ll be heating up anytime soon (he’s 7 for his last 46).  AND we’re over a week into May.  When you factor in the laughably mammoth contract and the value he is supposed to be providing to the Yankees lineup, he has been beyond atrocious. 

So…I burn through ALL of this blog space to catch my breath and finally say the following to Yankee Fan (and whoever else wants to get in on the party): BOO LOUDER.


May 8, 2009 - Posted by | Uncategorized

1 Comment »

  1. You didn’t even mention the fact that he now appears to play in a bandbox where any line drive to right field above waist level is a HR.

    Comment by Turp | May 8, 2009 | Reply

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