Quit hitting yourself!

The Diamondbacks' 7-4 victory over the Padres last night seemed fairly normal. Nobody struck out the opposition's entire roster, the bat boys, the traveling secretary, and half of Section 122 and still not pick up the win.

Nope. Pretty ho-hum. Except for something exceedingly rare: For just the second time in major league history (at least as far as the Pretzel Factory could tell; if we're wrong, please let us know in a condescending, degrading tone) a pitcher faced a batter with the same name.

Chris Young - Arizona's 23-year-old, 6'2" 180-pound African-American centerfielder - flew out to center in the first and to left in the second, and popped up on the infield in the fifth in his three at-bats against Chris Young - San Diego's 27-year-old, 6'10" 260-pound Awfully-Caucasian right-handed starter.

The other time? May 11, 1999, when the Rockies' Bobby Jones took the hill against the Mets' Bobby Jones (which is still the only time two men with the same name started against each other). And, this being the rough-and-tumble NL where you can't plunk a few dudes and then hide in the dugout, each non-golfing Bobby Jones faced the other one twice. The Big Apple BJ was 0-2 at the plate, and the Mile High BJ was 0-1 with a walk.

So while Bobby Jones - the lefty and darker one, if I remember correctly - reached base on his diamond-going doppelganger, nobody's ever gotten a base hit against "himself." Well, at least not until the Yankees get desperate and sign this guy.

The Reckoning

I'm not going to pretend to be the world's biggest David Halberstam fan. Hell, I've only read two of his books - Summer of '49 and The Education of a Coach - both of which were about sports. His non-athletic endeavors, such as War in a Time of Peace, The Fifties, The Powers that Be, and The Best and the Brightest, were always pretty high on my to-do list, and will rise even higher now in the wake of his passing.

But that's what I always really liked about Halberstam: he was one of those guys, like the Rogers Kahn and Angell, who could write about anything, but would always come back to sports every now and then. Why? Because he enjoyed them. Because he was a fan. And that came through in his books, whether he was writing about a pennant race, a rambunctious NBA team, a hooded sweatshirt-loving coach, or a bunch of no-name rowers.

There are some people who write about sports (a Mr. Feinstein comes readily to mind) so constantly, so mechanically, that it seems more about the paycheck than the outcome. I don't think you could ever say that about Halberstam.

He probably would've preferred to go out while covering a war instead of as a passenger in a graduate student's car. But he'd likely be the first to tell you that those are just The Breaks of the Game.

Little Momma: the Scenarios

As you know (or if you don't, welcome!), we Pretzeleers are a fair breed unless it comes to the Bronx. It would take a real stubborn asshole not to consider Alex "Little Momma" Rodriguez's start astounding. Sure, it's early and, yes, October is when champions are truly crowned, but Little Momma is kicking ass. It's prompted ESPN to take their coverage of him to new heights (focusing on his triumph last night despite the Red Sox improbable victory).

I'm catching Little Momma fever, and since Michael Kay decided to break out A-Rod's projected stats every time he came up to bat last night, I am going to play out several scenarios that could unfold this season.

Scenario 1: A-Rod continues his tear through the season without ever getting cold. He hits 134 HRs 265 RBIs and Michael Kay mutes himself by ripping a vocal chord or two talking about it nonstop. He then single-handedly lifts his team in the playoffs with a .366 average and 11 HRs in a World Series victory for the Yankees. Meanwhile, Bristol, Connecticut explodes.

Scenario 2: A torn vaginal muscle forces A-Rod to cool off while sitting out for a month or so. Little Momma ends up with a respectable 47 HRs and 138 RBIs and places 2nd in the MVP voting. He bats .275 with a HR in the playoffs during another early exit, but spots news contemplates whether he really recovered from that injury to his gash.

Scenario 3: A-Rod completely falls apart in June and struggles mightily at the plate before rebounding for a solidseason: 43 HRs, 125 RBIs and the MVP award. Little Momma just edges out Big Momma (Jeter) and Big Papi for the MVP before struggling in the playoffs. Big Momma and Little Momma fight it out in the press before A-Rod opts out of his contract and signs elsewhere.

Scenario 4: A-Rod gets so confident he stops swinging altogether and has his personal assistant (Andy Phillips!) take his swings for him. Phillips does well, so A-Rods Stats are padded nicely. When Joe Torre wakes up around mid-July, he decides to punish A-Rod by making him play the field (something handled by fielding assistant Phillip Hughes). Torre is fired, Little Momma continues to have other do his dirty work and ends up with 35 HRs, 123 RBIs and tons of errors wile the Yankees miss the postseason.

Scenario 5: A-Rod cools off for awhile, and then sparks a late run to win the AL East, but struggles in the playoffs. He still wins the MVP award. The press hounds him. He leaves New York to play for the Angels. He puts up amazing numbers for a long time. He makes the Hall of Fame.

Scenario 6: The Yankees are so surprised by Little Momma's numbers, that Steinbrenner decides to use him to populate his horse farm. A-Rod so loves his new job that he begins running with a crowd of the most popular horses on the farm. He retires from baseball (at the end of what turns out to be a disappointing season-- 31 HRs, 101 RBIs) to concentrate on horse racing. He dominates his field-- the fastest horse in history-- until cracking his foot during an important race. Despite an outpouring of affection from fans, media and internet groups, Steinbrenner puts Little Momma down in the Spring of 2009. Little Momma becomes the first human-horse breed to make the horse racing and baseball hall of fame simultaneously. Jeter makes the induction speech calling him, "truly on of a kind-- a SUPERHORSE."

Scenario 7: At some point in the season, Little Momma decides he won't play until he gets a raise. He hires Drew Rosenhaus to begin negotiations and keeps Boras on to look slimy and menacing in press photos. Meanwhile, A-Rod begins showing up to games in a T-shirt reading "Fuck You, Pay Me." He levees some pretty mean fines. The two headed monster of Borasenhauser renegotiates Momma's contract to a five year deal for 212 million and part ownership of Gambia.


Feel free to let me know what YOU think is possible, or just agree with one the above scenarios in our always available and seldom loved comments section.

A Man Among (Timber)Wolves

To some he is a rarity, an oddity: a talented, skilled big man surrounded by hapless castoffs and has-beens. To others, he represents all that is wrong in sports: intense, brooding, vicious, and insatiably demanding.

He is Kevin Garnett - a man among Timberwolves.

Hello, I'm Laird Braithwaite. Tonight we take you inside a world few people have ever seen - the life of a great player on a terrible NBA team.

This is Ticket. A rare physical specimen, he stands a hair under seven feet tall, with a wingspan that could wrap around a Grizzly. He has been living with the Timberwolves since 1995, when he adopted the pack at the age of nineteen after migrating north from the urban center of Chicago.

Ticket is the main attraction at the Target Center, a recreational outpost hidden amongst the many lakes in the land of Minnesota. From October to April, as many as 20,500 people will pay rather hefty sums to see Ticket and his packmates once or even twice a week.

Lately, however, that number is dropping.

The Timberwolves are no longer a dominant pack. Once they stood supreme over much of this terrain, a rich, luscious swath of land from Minnesota to as far west as California. But nature is its own balance, and other packs have gained strength. Ticket no longer has willing lieutenants and enforcers to take care of his problems. Worthy, spirited males have fled to other packs, leaving Ticket as the alpha-male.

This is Star. Star always thought he was more important to the pack than he actually was. His slight build, hypnotic reflexes and frightening speed made him the ultimate catalyst to Ticket. When Ticket first arrived, he and Star seemed poised to lead the Timberwolves to riches never before seen. But Star recoiled in the face of a fight, and he soon was banished.

This is Wally. Wally took his position as scout a bit too literal. He was talented from outside, always sniffing out a possible invasion with his impeccable long-range senses. Yet his overall lack of desire and willingness to get in the middle of things angered Ticket, as did his unquenchable need to keep himself impeccably groomed.

This is Spree. Spree constantly challenged Ticket for supremacy, and Ticket would subsequently have to re-enforce his position as leader of the pack. This battle wore out both parties, and confused other pack members. Spree was once a fantastic killer, always going straight for the throat. Eventually, however, it became clear that Spree had sired some offspring, and was killing two to three deer and elk at a time to feed a few cubs - far more food than was actually needed. This constant need to feed his family drove him away; now, as a loner, he roams silently in the distance.

This is Alien. Alien was an elder, recruited from a rival pack for his wise ways. Alien was a fantastic facilitator, always chipping in wherever necessary: sometimes he'd stand lookout, other times he'd make a kill, and still other times he would ward off intruders. Yet his desire to discipline members within the pack led to the stand-off between he and Ticket. In the brutal world of the Timberwolves, youthful exuberance and big, sharp teeth will always prevail over shifty steps and weathered experience.

Now, without his fallen comrades, Ticket must struggle to teach the younger, naive Timberwolves to navigate their hostile territory. He is getting along in age; his gait, once majestic and as swift as the northern breeze, now shows the battle scars a great warrior like Ticket accumulates over the years. Some believe his time with the Timberwolves is numbered; that his status as alpha-male will be challenged, his power usurped.

But Ticket does not think so. Defiantly he stands on the land he has lorded over for more than a decade, surveying all that he helped create. He will have his chance to reveal the secrets of his mighty talent and enviable success, for tomorrow is another day.

Another day to go on the hunt.

Another day to kill.

Another day to prove he really is a man among Timberwolves.

So it goes.

Yes, these are blogs about something in particular (and this ain't it), but an important man passed yesterday. One of the all-time kings of satire, and a man that amassed more sidebars and intrigued more minds than anyone I know ever will (combined!) succumbed to the world's only real guarantee. This will be short and sweet, like many his books, like many of his ideas, though thankfully unlike his life. I didn't like it all, but damn if I didn't love what he meant anyway.

Thank you Kurt Vonnegut. Thanks for everything and more. May you lay in nothingness and continue to impress us all still.

So it goes.

AL East 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 East, friends!

Boston Red Sox: I don't really think this team can win this division or make the playoffs in my heart of hearts, but I can't pick the Yankees. So, there it is. The Red Sox will win the East because I want them to. At the all-star break, with a two game deficit, Curt Schilling will change the name of his blog "Muting Michael Kay" after Kay says that the Yankees would be better off signing a younger pitcher in the off-season. This will prompt Kay to challenge Schill to a wrestle off. Little does Schill know, Kay is dirty. Mariano Rivera will sneak into the ring and hit Schill with a chair and Kay will scream "SEE YA!" before pinning Schill to win. Manny Ramirez will decide that this injustice must be avenged and will set a second-half RBI record propelled by an 11 RBI night against the Yanks eliminating them from playoff contention. Big Papi will laugh from the dugout heartily while carting Schill around with a wheelchair that is internet ready. Wins: 100. Playoffs: WS. Also, I'm a Red Sox fan. Thought you should know.

NY Yankees: Aside from the Michael Kay distraction, the Yankees will face their largest A-Rod distraction ever when the fans and media decide to start preening and petting him no matter what his role is in the clutch. He will become so enamored of himself that he will grow his hair into a lustrous main and refer to himself as SUPERHORSE. SUPERHORSE will hit for average, power and gallop around the basepaths with the reckless abandon of a young Enos Slaughter. Derek Jeter, jealous of SUPERHORSE's preening and newfound media-love, will refer to A-Rod as "Little Momma" during an ESPN Sunday Conversation in which he was shitcanned drunk. This will prompt both players to actively dive into the stands after EVERY foul ball causing irreparable facial structure damage to both men. Because of this, Hideki Matsui will declare himself (very humbly) to be the most handsome man on the team. Meanwhile, the team will suffer it's worst winning percentage in a long time: well above .500. Wins: 90. Playoffs: probably, but I'm not granting that honor on anything NEAR Giambi.

Toronto Blue Jays: Wait, there's a team in CANADA? What the hell is that about? I mean, COME ON. BJ Ryan plays In CANADA? Who's in charge here? Let's get these guys a real stadium in a real AMERICAN city for Christ's sake. Has Detroit got a ballclub right now? What about Anaheim? Don't worry, fellas. We'll take care of this right quick like. Doc Halladay don't pitch for no pansy-ass CANADIAN team for pussy nor money. One quick note: is there anything scarier than the bird Toronto designed to be the mascot? Holy living FUCK. That thing will kill us all. Seriously, did the guy who did makeup for The Crow make this? Wins: 87. Playoffs: Nah.

Baltimore Orioles: It all comes crashing down on opening day, doesn't it? Kevin Millar will make the papers for the first time in June when he hits a walk off dying quail to raise his average to .234. He will use the interview to rail against Peter Angelos' irresponsible running of the team. When he disappears, no one will mind or even notice. A clone of Nick Markakis will take his place and Angelos will name him Kevin Millar 2: Millar Time. A big hit, the clone will lead the league in smiles until he realizes the team is having yet another losing season mired toward the bottom of the East. Millar 2 will march into Angelos' office screaming CRUSH KILL DESTROY before realizing that he cannot destroy his master. The two will be married in August. What a nice little story. Wins: 71. Playoffs: Get the fuck outta here.

Tampa Bay Devil Rays: They got these big chewy pretzels here blaughtkdnguthgl. OK, in all seriousness, this team will start with the worst record in history until they sign Brewer, Horford and Noah and win 15 in a row to end the season. Still, it's no reason to go caring about a team that has a perennial spot on the spoiler list that Gammons does on Baseball Tonight every year. Wins: 59. Playoffs: We doin' it big. My Devil Rays know what I'm talking about.