NL West Preview

Yeah, it's time again. The Baseball season is ALREADY FUCKING HERE, so we're previewing the whole shebangs the only way we know how: by making shit up. Today is the NL West, God's division of choice. Don't believe that? Then go ahead and explain the last month of the 2007 season. Go ahead. I'm waiting, taintmoth.

San Diego Padres-- Ok, so, three division previews, three blatant acts of homerism. Do I care that I can say I could hit seventh for this team, and almost totally mean it? No. Do I really believe the Friars will finish ahead of the D(ouche)Backs? No. But I'm typing this thing, and this is what it says. But it will happen. Jake Peavy will use his three-year, $52 million extension as ammunition. Literally. The southern boy will bring an old-style musket to games and shoot down opponents with wads of $5 bills. Mark Prior will make about 10 or 15 starts, and, surprisingly, his arm will not turn into Bisquick. When Khalil Greene starts to bleed after taking a spike to the shin in August, everyone will realize that he's not a robot, and this knowledge will bolster the team and shoot them to the top (a .254 team average and league-low home run totals notwithstanding). Record: 93-69, NLCS losers.

Arizona Diamondbacks-- Randy Johnson has clearly sold his soul to the devil. It's the only possible explanation. The man is 44 and has reportedly been throwing smoke in camp. He also listens to heavy metal and plays the drums. Heretic! Late in the season, to get a boost, Johnson will feast on the flesh of some of the D-Backs' younger players. First he'll entice Stephen Drew into an empty trainers' room with a Maxim and a Ribwich. There he'll sever his carotid artery with a boxcutter and slurp the blood like a Chianti. Then, when Chris Young enters to investigate, Johnson will club him over the head with a bat and eagerly lap up the goo inside. Then he'll go out and no-hit the Giants. Record: 91-71, NLDS losers.

Los Angeles Dodgers-- Joe Torre. What more can you say for the guy? Other than the fact that he's got a 894-1003 record (.471 winning percentage) when he pilots non-Yankees teams that don't hemorrhage money out their ass? Umm ... not much, I guess. He manages people well, right? Well, isn't that the name OF THE FUCKING JOB? We'll see how stoic ol' Joe looks when Andruw Jones waddles up to yet another ducksnort bloop hit in shallow center, then follows it up at bat with a lazy fly ball to left. I don't even have anything bad to say about Nomar. I hope he can hit at least one more home run, so he can feel his cleat hit that thick rubber at home, then give hi-fives to his teammates before spontaneously combusting. God I hate this team. I will personally give $20 and a few month-old Playboys to the first earthquake to swallow these blue-clad fucknuts up. Record: 86-76, no playoffs.

Colorado Rockies-- Ahh, the feel-good hit of the summer. Or, one that involves baseball and not a badass bass-driven song about copious amounts of awesome drugs. Too bad that shit ain't happening twice. When Jeff Francis falls back to Earth at the tune of about 13-11 with a 5.13 ERA and a WHIP of who-knows-what, the Rockies will decide divine intervention is needed - again - ... and sign Pope Benedict XVI to a two-year, $12 million deal. Aside from a mid-90s heater and a nasty slider, PB-16 features a surprisingly lively stick, becoming a poor man's Micah Owings. It's not enough, though, as Matt Holliday succumbs to a late-season bout of mono after hanging out with LaDainian Tomlinson and Hope Solo while making another pretentious, snarky, "We can be funny, too, if you disregard our terrible past of making women and children work for next to nothing in sweatshops overseas! No, seriously, French Toast! That's so random it's hilarious!" Nike commercials. Troy Tulowitzki continues to be the best and most-clutch athlete in American pro sports with a last name that ends in "owitzki," however. Record: 85-77, no playoffs.

San Francisco Giants-- Realizing he's made a mockery of, in order: 1) working-class America 2) the institution of baseball 3) every other pitcher in the big leagues 4) the hitters he pitches against 5) every pitcher who had ever pitched in the big leagues, the minor leagues, college, and high school 6) capitalism 7) the Giants' front office and, finally, 8) the Giants' fans, Barry Zito formally apologizes for signing the most absurd deal in history, grabs his acoustic guitar and a surfboard, and hitchhikes down to Malibu. Feeling unburdened, the Giants then give Barry Bonds a prorated contract for the rest of 2008 worth roughly $19 million. His back zits proceed to drive in more runs than the entire lineup. Record: 158-4 ... wait, this isn't the AARP league? It's the National League? Of MLB? Oh, then ... 69-93. Bingo!

MLB Preview: NL West

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 National League West, friends!

San Diego Padres:
Does your team have brothers hitting at the top of the lineup? Huh? Didn't think so. That reminds me ... "My blood runs cold! My memory has just been sold! My angel is the centerfold, Angel is the centerfold." Wait ... you mean it's the J. Geils Band? Not Giles, as in rightfielder Brian and newly acquired second baseman Marcus? No shit? Damn. Well, whatever. In between tons of hotfoot pranks, violent games of Doorknob and some kick ass Nerf basketball tournaments in the locker room, the brothers will regain their batting stroke and, along with Adrian Gonzalez and Kevin Kouzmanoff (so far the only man in recorded human history to hit the first major league pitch he's ever seen for a grand slam) form a vastly improved offense.

Oh ... you mean they're still in Petco?

Never mind then.

At least there's Jake Peavy. And Greg Maddux. And Chris Young. And Trevor Hoffman. And David Wells. Which reminds me ... hey, new skipper Bud Black? You might want to keep some Twinkies and animal crackers around when Boomer's pitching. And some Capri Sun. You might have to help him with those little pointed straws, though. Them's a bitch. Wins: 91. Playoffs: Eliminated in the World Series.

Los Angeles Dodgers:
Can I have one of those Chesterfields now? Thanks. You know, I like to read. About baseball, and the environment - that shit fascinates me. Here's something you may not know: With speedsters Rafael Furcal (hopefully not drunk) and Juan Pierre at the top of the order, and very little behind Nomar Garciaparra and Jeff Kent to drive them in, Grady Little will let the little scamps run wild. And oh, boy, will they! They'll do so much runnin' - hahaha, yeah! - they'll do so much runnin' that the friction will heat up the surface temperature of the Earth by one whole degree, causing a catastrophic portion of the polar ice caps to melt. The Pacific will creep up and into Chavez Ravine, and all the Dodger fans will be able to leave in the fifth inning instead of the seventh. Oh, and eggplants. Something about eggplants. Wins: 89 (WC). Playoffs: Eliminated in first round of playoffs.

Arizona Diamondbacks:
Hey, they got new uniforms! Sweet! I guess they figured out it's not 1992 anymore and that looking like a walking bruise isn't so cool! Which is funny, because they didn't exist until 1998! I don't know why I keep using exclamation points! Oh, because the Big Unit is back in the National League. Over/under on when he'll either bean a mentally disabled kid in the third row or surgically insert a pair of game-worn spikes up a beat writer's rectum? I'd say June 14. Sounds good, anyway. You know what else sounds good? Having a beer with Eric Byrnes. Seriously, that guy's the shit. Wins: 86. No playoffs.

Colorado Rockies:
The Rockies will, for a while at least, continue where they left off last year. Garrett Atkins and Matt Holliday crushing the ball. The starters actually getting some ground balls and giving way to the bullpen to do a pretty damn good job. The humidor keeping the baseballs as moist as Paris Hilton at the NBA All-Star Weekend. But something won't be right ... er, how do I put this?

Ok. Here goes. You ever have Rocky Mountain Oysters? No? Well, th- no, not real oysters. Have you ever been to Colorado? Damn. Anyway, to put it lightly, they're ... bull balls. That's right - cow nuts.

I know what you're thinking: "I wouldn't be caught dead eating bull's testicles." Yeah, but you thought nobody would ever find out about that thing you do in the shower with the luffa, didn't you? Well, just so happens that during a Super Bowl party when I was about seven or eight, I ate some RMOs. I didn't know it. I didn't ask. I assumed - and later thought, based on the taste - that it was chicken. And when I did, it was decent; a little chewy, perhaps, but edible. But when I found out what it was, I felt sick.

Hence your 2007 Colorado Rockies: the bull's balls of MLB. Wins: 79. No playoffs.

San Francisco Giants:
Barry Zito will wow the San Francisco crowd w- Hey, what's going on?



AHHHH!!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! IT'S GROWING! IT'S FILLING EVERY EMPTY SPACE IN THE UNIVERSE! YOUR WEAPONS ARE POWERLESS AGAINST IT!!! Wins: 0 (Forced to forfeit the entire season when Bonds eats a horse on ESPN's Sunday Night Baseball). No, no, no, no no no no no no no no no playoffs. C'mon.