Jason Campbell Previews the American League Central

Well, shit.

Is it just me, or is it ironic that a team with the most offensive, derogatory name in professional sports has not one but now two black players at the most important position?

Man, D.C. just be hoardin' brothas.

5. Kansas City Royals - I can really feel for my boy Zack Greinke, now. Everybody ripped him for his absence from baseball due to Social Anxiety Disorder and depression, calling him weak and all that. You know what, though? Failure ain't fun. Ain't fun at all. Just ask Alex Gordon.

Record: 64-98

4. Cleveland Indians - Speaking of failure, how about the Indians? They actually finished 2009 with the same record as the Royals. The Royals! Remember when they had a 3-1 lead on the Red Sox in the 2007 ALCS? Then they blew that lead and fell off the face of the Earth? Just like when I went 13-0 in my senior year at Auburn, but didn't get to play for a national title. Got drafted by Washington, then - BAM - off the face of the Earth. Just like Travis Hafner.

Record: 71-91

3. Chicago White Sox - Before Jake Peavy got traded from San Diego to the White Sox last year, there was talk that the Padres were considering sending him to the Dodgers. They didn't, though, because they're not freaking crazy. Or stupid. Or insane. Who trades a stud within the division? I have no clue, PHILADELPHIA.

Record: 80-82

2. Minnesota Twins - Joe Mauer is the man. There's no getting around it. He's a hometown boy, three-sport high school star, the reigning AL MVP. He's won as many batting titles - 3 - in four years as all catchers in the history of baseball combined. He is, without a doubt, an absolute monster. So, he's kinda the opposite of me. Except neither of us have championships. So I got that going for me.

Record: 84-78

1. Detroit Tigers - I still can't believe we traded for Donovan McNabb. Sorry to harp about it, but ... damn. I mean, dude did a bunch of Campbell's Chunky Soup commercials. My name's Campbell! That's just wrong, man. The Tigers have Phil Coke in their bullpen. It'd be like if they got rid of Jim Leyland, promoted Coke to manager for one game, then replaced him with Ron Washington.

Record: 86-76
Loss in ALDS

BASEBALL PREVIEWS: The Central Division of the American League

It's the end of the first week of the season and we're finally done with this nonsense. And, as of right now, the Padres are atop the NL West. Sure, it's only one week, and they've played all their games at home, but for now - right now, this very second - I can say, in all honesty, with impunity and feeling ... fuck you, Stan.

1. The Oligarchy

"Although we exist as separate entities, we are but one mind. And that philosophy, simply, is this: we will throw strikes; we will make all the routine plays, and many of the difficult ones; we will reform the downtrodden educational system; we will move the runner from 2nd to 3rd by hitting to the right side; we will fix the contamination problem in Lake Dumbbell; we will find out the mysterious ailment hampering Joe Mauer; we will not overuse Francisco Liriano; and we will find a way to lower the cigarette tax. Two minds are better than one, especially if that one is Carl Pohlad."

Record: 88-74
Lose to Red Sox in divisional round after a plucky fight

Favorite song: "Blue Collar Man" by Styx
Favorite movie: Brothers of the Head

2. The Tribal Council

"Dark times are these. Long have we been without Smiling Grizzly Bear and his left-handed arrows of death. Still, Sinkers from the Devil and Southpaw From Nowhere have bolstered our front line. But troubles in the tribe are many. We wait and tell stories of the past. And if by the middle of the month of rain and sun we continue down sad, sad path, we shall ask for tickets to Quicken Loans building to watch the Chosen One in the playoffs."

Record: 86-76

Favorite song: Anything by Gnarls Barkley
Favorite movie: Dances with American Werewolves in London

3. The Democracy

"This is ... well, to be honest, this is kind of a bad time for us. In the past, we were your only choice. You had old, white socks over here, and on the other ballot ... just another pair of old, white socks. Now, all of a sudden, it's cool to have black socks. We don't want to talk about fucking black socks, ok? Got me? We just want to go back to 2005, when you had two choices: white and white. Like a big, harmless, pale Mark Buehrle, or a fat, sweaty, translucent Bobby Jenks. Can we do that? Is that cool? Do you have a time machine? We'll buy it from you, you know. We're rich as shit."

Record: 85-76

Favorite song: "Courtesy of the Red, White & Blue" by Toby Keith
Favorite movie: Frost/Nixon

4. The Dictatorship

"Listen up, you worthless pieces of canine anus. We're going to score some fucking runs. Got that? R.U.N.S. All up and down this goddamn diamond. We're going to score so much Vivid Video is going to produce our end-of-the-year DVD. And whenever we score 10 - or give up 10 - Miggy's going to cook a razorback in Magglio's hair grease and I'm going to smoke 4 packs of Marlboro Lights while fucking two 16-year-olds painting a portrait of me wearing a polar bear skin. We're the goddamn Tigers, assholes. Get fucking ready."

Record: 83-78

Favorite song: LOUD FAST AND FUCKING DISORIENTING
Favorite movie: Soy Cuba

5. The Monarchy

"Ahem. My people. You may look at the crown today, set against a robin's blue background, and not believe the fervor that once rippled through my body when that same crown shone of a gold so bright the Gods themselves shielded their eyes. You may not see the dried streaks of blood stained upon the sword, like so much pine tar stretched black and sick towards the barrel of the bat. We have fought before. We have won before. We have taken the field underrated, underprepared, and unafraid. Before, when you battled, when you pulled on your colors, you merely played for the names on the back of your jerseys. But now I humbly implore you ... I firmly beseech you ... I merely beg you on the knees of my father and my father's father that you - my brothers ... my sons ... my Royals ... I ask that when you step between those white lines that define us you spill your soul, your blood, and every ounce of yourself for us ... for your team ... for your City of Kansas!"

Record: 78-83

Favorite song: "Feel Good Hit of the Summer" by Queens of the Stone Age
Favorite movie: The Fisher King

Escape Engine 3

(Editor's note: Escape Engine will be a series of baseball features on this site. The first month of the series will focus on bullpens.)

The fast rise and fall of a bullpen is a tragic thing to watch. A month of fantastic pitching could just as easily crumble as continue, as anyone knows, but to predict such a fall is divine. Since sportswriters mention bullpens more than they actually talk about them, we've decided to devote a little time to some contenders' bullpens (with little focus on the closer, since they get enough airtime already). This week we've focused on the Cleveland Indians, currently 2 1/2 games ahead of the Tigers in the AL Central at 34-21. We have them winning the wildcard, if you must know.

(Ed. note 2: feel free to tell me I'm full of shit in the comments section. I know my knowledge of non-East Caost is fairly limited.)

For a second, can I ask a question? When does a good start technically become a good start? When do we label a team (or in this case an entire division) the class of it's opponents? 31-18 is nothing to scoff at, obviously, and the starting pitching for the Indians has been fierce. As always, it makes for a rested and fierce bullpen come the summer, but does this always mean that a good start can't become a mediocre finish? I think the cut-off is the end of May, personally. Cleveland can officially call themselves a threat, rather than a promise. Calling a start anything up until the all-star break infuriates me. On with the column.

The Indians have put their threatening face on the past few years, but one thing or another keeps their prodigious offense from raping postseason pitchers as well as regular seasoners. The bullpen has been less of a calamity and more of a mediocre yet maddening misfire for fans. If the pitching staffs of the world were judged by Nichola Cage movies, they would be in the Con-Air category-- no plot but an effective amount of exciting escapes and explosions (this is a scale from Face-Off to Raising Arizona, by the way). The difference this year is going to be the pitching, but the question is whether or not a true anchor will emerge. How long can Joe Borowski be effective in any role that pays him 4 Million dollars for a 1.57 WHIP and an above 7 ERA?

Let's Just Talk About This Guy First: Having seen Rafael Betancourt pitch three or four times this year, color me damned impressed. The 1.54 ERA and .81 WHIP are no justice to how this man has been mastering hitters. He is 2nd in the league in holds (11) and has made 22 appearances. Throwing in times he is giving them a chance for late inning combacks (see: Detroit v. Cleveland 06/01) he is responsible for well more than half of his appearances being Cleveland victories. Does this mean is VORP is approximately infinity? All this, and he's been on the 15-day DL once already.
Late Innings Other Than Betancourt: As aforementioned, Joe Borowski is a shaky cause to back as closer. His numbers suggest a terrible job, but 17 saves is respectable-- good even. In fact, he reminds me of an Alejandro Pena (or any of the Braves closers in the 90s). Effective for a few years, but the fans are just WAITING for a complete implosion for 4 blown saves out of 5 and a trade for 3 cents on the dollar. I remember watching Braves games when I was young and feeling the same way as when I see Borowski enter. Just don't let the lead runner on--DAMNIT. OK, don't let him steal sec-- DAMNIT. OK, fly-out and we got one guy down. Let's just DAMNIT, infield single. Let's get a double play right, here Joe. C'mon Joe. DAMNIT. OK, 5-4. Two down. OH SHIT STAY IN THE PARK STAY IN THE PARK GET IT GRADY. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Whew. And I am not even an Indians fan.
Middle and Long Relief: Collectively, Tom Mastny, Roberto Hernandez and Fernando Cabrera are a crew of mediocres. This nucleus is the reason I can't see this team winning the Al Central. Sure, middle relief isn't the most important thing in baseball, but these are the kind of numbers that end up killing guys like Betancourt and Borowski-- the bridges. None of them is under 5 ERA in 15+ appearances, which make them shaky candidates for inherited runners to say the least. This WHIPs are high and the walks are inexcusable. Hernandez (42 years old) is officially hovering at 2 baserunners an inning while Rafael Perez remains limited in innings pitched (6 well pitched innings and counting...).

Long-Term Eye: Generally speaking, I hold out hope that the AL Central will finally shut pundits up about the AL East's detritus-ridden reign over everyone's minds. Between the Yankees, Red Sox, Orioles, Jay and Rays, none of those teams would be ahead in the standings of the Central right now. I believe that. Challenge all you might, but the pitching and hitting is younger and better (or at least it is damn close to it). Much like the NFC East, it is just going to take a while for the analysts and casual fans to realize it. The Indians are a big part of that reason. As far as the bullpen is concerned, this may be the year it is just good enough to get them into the postseason. It depends, ultimately on Borowski and the bridges to Betancourt. Can a trio of ineptness hold up for an entire season? In the most hotly contested division in the league, it had batter.

Fun Fact: I am in throes of one of the worst fits of depression I have had since moving to New York City. Outstanding. Anybody got any pain pills?

Projection: We're sticking to our guns. The bubblegum and scotch tape (i.e. middle relievers) are just effective enough to outlast the Twinators, Athleticisms and Yanquees. I just hope they aren't prepared to win a series in the playoffs unless they make a deal before the ever-looming trade deadline. I say a trade for a Chad Cordero type of guy. Young and durable, though he hits spots of trouble. Why not? The Nationals aren't using him for anything special right now.

Escape Engine No. 2

(Editor's note: Escape Engine will be a series of baseball features on this site. The first month of the series will focus on bullpens.)

The fast rise and fall of a bullpen is a tragic thing to watch. A month of fantastic pitching could just as easily crumble as continue, as anyone knows, but to predict such a fall is divine. Since sportswriters mention bullpens more than they actually talk about them, we've decided to devote a little time to some contenders' bullpens (with little focus on the closer, since they get enough airtime already). This week we've focused on the Detroit Tigers, currently 1/2 game ahead of the Indians in the AL Central at 24-14.

(Ed. Note 2: I refuse to pony up for MLB.tv, so I watch what YES, SNY, ESPN, TBS and FOX decide to show me. Feel free to let me know where I am wrong in the comments.)

For years there was a glorious symbiotic relationship in Detroit. As the domestic car market crumbled under the weight of an efficient, affordable, and eco-friendly wave of foreign vehicles, the city fell apart. People had to decide if they wanted to pay the gas bill or go see a historically inept baseball team that hadn't done anything since Reagan was talking about star wars - and not the movie. No butts in the seats means no money spent, no money circulating means no buying cars - a vicious cycle turning like so many Goodyears on Hondas, Toyotas, and Nissans.

But then they got a few things that make you a contender. A chain-smoking, cantankerous, brilliant manager. Some quality bats. And arms - lots and lots of arms.

8th and 9th: Although it says above we wouldn't talk about closers, how can you not talk about Todd Jones? He didn't sell his soul to the devil - he put a gun to his balls and threatened to blow off the demonmaker if he didn't turn him into a successful closer. Hell, Jamie Moyer wonders how he gets people out. But he does. Joel Zumaya, the Juggs-busting Jimmy Page wannabe, went out 10 days ago with a strained finger; he had surgery a week ago and will be out 2-3 months. Losing a 101-MPH fastball usually isn't a recipe for success, but Jim Leyland has performed miracles before. In Zumaya's place steps Fernando Rodney, who has pitched pretty well as of late. He got lit up in the first two outings of the year to the tune of four earned runs in 1.2 innings, but has settled down lately. Crafty veteran (that term is used very, very loosely here) Jose Mesa and journeyman Bobby Seay provide righty-lefty matchups and mild comfort.

Middle Relief: Jason Grilli has virtually the same stats from his last two outings. They are: 2.1 IP, 5H, 3R, 3ER; 2.1 IP, 4H, 3R, 3ER. Yeesh. A 7+ ERA and 1.84 WHIP aren't going to keep you your job for long as the top righty out of the pen. Wilfredo Ledezma, the lefty, has been up-and-down all year, but lefties are hitting .387 against him with a .940 OPS. To remedy this, the Tigers called up another southpaw, Tim Byrdak, on Sunday, and he then promptly threw two shutout innings against the Red Sox. Kenny Rogers is likely to be out for a few months, and Jeremy Bonderman might miss a start because of a blister problem, but when it comes down to it, this excellent Tigers rotation is likely to give you quality starts night-in, night-out. That means these three guys - Grilli, Ledezma, and Byrdak - merely need to be average and not pour the proverbial gasoline on the fire (not to be confused with the flame tattoo on Zumaya's forearm).

Long-term Eye: This all boils down to one question: Can Zumaya come back, be dominant again, and stay healthy? He's been groomed to take over the closer role for a while now, until the "If It Ain't Broke, Don't Fix It" thinking gets hit by a speeding Dodge Viper. The man truly is scary. Jose Mesa, however, is scary only if you're a Tigers fan and he comes into the game in the 7th with Detroit up 5-4.

Fun Fact: Todd Jones threw the last pitch at Tiger Stadium in 1999. It's just now reaching the plate.

Projection: A healthy trio of Jones, Zumaya and Rodney makes this a top-third group. But there is plenty of potential here for pitfall, and Leyland might want to test the strength of those vines before he swings over the alligators (sorry, love a good Atari reference). The Tigers' rotation and offense should keep them near the top of the AL Central - our pick to win it, actually - but if that fails, this group is the one that might get the (strained) finger pointed at them.

AL Central Preview

We here at the Pretzel Factory are proud to present an absolutely absurd look into our idea of what will happen this year in Major League baseball team by team. They are broken down by division and in the order of predicted finish for your enjoyment. Enjoy your preview of the American League Central, friends!

Detroit Tigers: Having bought a dozen copies of Tom Emanski's defensive drills instructional videos for all of his pitchers, Jim Leyland will put out a lit cigarette on Justin Verlander's forearm following a bad toss to first. The videos will be watched, and lessons learned. After a slump in early May, Gary Sheffield will come in from the cage and see Joel Zumaya and Sean Casey playing Guitar Hero 2 in the clubhouse. With one steely glare, Sheffield will fuse the molecules of the PlayStation 3 with Kenny Rogers's left arm, simultaneously healing the blood clot and erasing the brown stain, all the while turning Rogers into some kind of pseudo-cyborg. He will go 14-0 from that point on with a 0.21 ERA. In an overwhelming show of good grace, he will give every hitter he humiliates a $10 gift certificate to Kenny Rogers Roasters, which for some reason will make the multi-millionaires happy. They will be extremely disappointed, however, to find out that there is exactly one operating Kenny Rogers Roasters restaurant in Ontario, California. Wins: 94. Playoffs: Eliminated in the first round.

Cleveland Indians: Grady Sizemore will be lured away from baseball by Calvin Klein for an unprecedented $150 million. Gigantic billboards of him in just his white undies will be plastered on the sides of buildings and on billboards all over the world. He will be feted by the elite, adored by supermodels, and envied by all. But he'll just miss gettin' dirty. The Indians will have traded for Kenny Lofton in his absence, and when Sizemore returns Eric Wedge will tell Lofton to go to the store to get some more resin. When he comes back, the team will have already left for Seattle. Travis Hafner, having subsisted for nearly a year on nothing but Pronk bars and hay, will hit a ball so hard during batting practice that it will ricochet off two of his teammates. The blast will be so potent that it will knock C.C. Sabathia's hat straight for the rest of the year and it will bump the "h" in Jhonny Peralta's first name to its rightful spot after the "o." Building on baseball's decision to include the Indians in a preseason Civil Rights game, Cleveland will sporadically drop in on various Native American reservations to shoot the elder tribesmen, use the babies as footballs, and let Trot Nixon rape the women. Paul Byrd will get the teenage boys. Wins: 93 (WC). Playoffs: Eliminated in first round.

Chicago White Sox: Jerry Reinsdorf will become so incensed with Ozzie Guillen's constant inflammatory statements that he will muzzle him after the All-Star break. Pretty much the entire world will be outraged that a human being could be muzzled like a greyhound, but it will actually work out for everybody. Despite a terrible first few months, including a start in which Jose Contreras gives up twelve consecutive home runs, the White Sox will rally behind the indomitable spirit of A.J. Pierzynski. In between being a Big Brother for seven different children, teaching blind orphans how to block balls in the dirt and running naked across Antarctica to raise awareness for antijaylenonitis (having virtually no chin), the sparkplug catcher will rally together his troops for a furious fight for the title. They will come up just short, though, when Bobby Jenks drunkenly mistakes Tadahito Iguchi for a spicy tuna roll and devours him on a late-night flight to Boston. Wins: 89. No playoffs.

Minnesota Twins: Watching "Borat" for the ump-teenth time in the basement of the place they share, Joe Mauer and Justin Morneau's hands will meet when reaching for some Cool Ranch Doritos. Ironically, it will be during the nude wrestling scene; it will also bring about strange feelings in the young men. Soon Mauer, the All-American boy, and Morneau, the ... uh ... All-Canadian? boy will come out as the first bona fide superstar gay athletes. Torii Hunter and Rondell White will then beat the ever-loving shit out of both of them, rendering them incapable of any kind of love, be it men or women. After carrying the team for the whole year, Johan Santana will scream out on the hill in the Metrodome, "Are you fucking kidding me?!? Jeff Cirillo is our fucking DH? I'd rather have a corpse at the plate than that goddamn cocksucker!" The entire Dome will go silent; one young mother's head will actually explode at the profane display. Going from the team hotel to the stadium during a game in Tampa Bay, the Twins' bus will be nailed by a runaway semi. Facing almost certain disaster, the entire team will hide in Sidney Ponson's ass crack, thereby saving their lives. The team will be fine - investigators will have a hard time finding any remnants of the semi. Wins: 84. No playoffs.

Kansas City Royals: Mike Sweeney will eventually convince himself that David DeJesus is, in fact, Jesus. Trying to find new ways to understand and spread his faith, Sweeney will steal items from DeJesus's locker, and after he is caught sniffing a used jock he will be dismissed from the team. He will later be busted for bestiality. Proving the club's overall incompetence, one of the clubhouse guys will mess up Mark Grudzielanek's jersey, leaving "Grudzielanekkajolwacsekmennanopfeleskibrezelpithmayek" on his back. Nobody will notice until the fourth inning. In early September, the Royals will call me and ask if I'd like to pitch for them. I will tell them politely to stick it where the barbecue don't shine. Wins: Mid, high 40s? Playo...ah, shit, I almost actually typed it! Haha!