Cosmic_Cannon
New member
Pettite resigned w/ the Yankees?? Crazy, he'll probably get a couple of starts late in the year, or retire in the middle of the year.
KeepOnPushing
New member
Miguel Cabrera already getting hit in the face by groundballs out chea
infamous114
Moderator
^ GODDAMN....
I think Hanley is set up to have a rebound season....can't wait for the season to begin.
I think Hanley is set up to have a rebound season....can't wait for the season to begin.
KeepOnPushing
New member
infamous114;4188597 said:
Co-sign , his shoulder is healthy and swing is shorter, it got long last season ....and the pressure of Playing SS is off of him, he wasn't a good defensive SS he had like one really good year there on Defense ..they're doing the Right thing Moving him
Cosmic_Cannon
New member
Watch out for Gaby Sanchez and Annibal Sanchez too, they will ball this year.
Cosmic_Cannon
New member
Bryce Harper GQ piece
http://www.gq.com/sports/guides/201204/bryce-harper-mlb-baseball-preview
IS BASEBALL READY FOR BRYCE?
Dear MLB: Please don't muzzle the most entertaining prospect since Babe Ruth. Thank you, fans everywhere
"Fuuuuuuck!!!" This is Bryce Harper—the erstwhile pastime's answer to LeBron James, Mozart child prodigy of the great game. The Washington Nationals' 19-year-old prospect is taking big cuts in an impromptu batting-cage session on the campus of UC Irvine, all for my benefit. I wanted to see the supposed perfect swing in action. I wanted to witness baseball's next Barry Bonds. And I'm suddenly a little worried that he's just broken his hand.
The man who had been tossing lobs to Harper is a contracted soldier of super-agent Scott Boras, whose offices are just a few miles west—and in small part paid for by the commission he received from the $9.9 million contract Harper signed at the age of 17. Indeed, though barely of voting age, Harper is primed to make more money through sponsorships than almost any ballplayer in the league, and his baseball résumé already has the ring of legend: the 570-foot homer he hit in Las Vegas, where he was reared, at the age of 15; the thump a year later, at Tropicana Field, that was, at the time, the deepest recorded at the Tampa Bay Rays' home field; the blistering speed that allowed him to score from second on wild pitches regularly in high school.
Harper's swing is so violent that in the cage, the bat cracks even when he misses. The trainer seems not so comfortable: This is his first time underhanding batting practice to Bryce, and he keeps hearing about it from the kid. ("My dad"—Harper's trainer since T-ball—"is better at tossing these.") He's also crouched four feet from the end of Harper's bat; one errant swing and the trainer's teeth might be scattered to Newport Beach. "When I hit the ball," Harper says, "I do want to hurt it."
Now that Harper's the one hurt, he takes a hop-step out of the box. Again: "Fuuuuuuck!!!" A violent toss of his custom-made Marucci bat—inscribed with LUKE 1:37 ("For with God nothing shall be impossible")—across the batting cage. "Fuck it, I'm done." Harper shakes his hands vigorously and shoves them into a pile of infield dirt adjacent to the cage. "I didn't know I was hitting today, and I don't have my goddamned gloves," he says. "It hurts like a dick."
What makes Harper far more anticipated than your typical phenom is a sense that he not only recognizes the vastness of his potential but also feels plenty comfortable telling you about it. One minute he informs me that "baseball needs more superstars." The next, while discussing Albert Pujols signing with the Angels, he offers thoughtlessly, "Albert and I know each other and respect each other." In a sport in which "paying your dues" is practically in the job description—an institution that once made Michael Jordan ride around in a bus for five months—Harper seems to have emerged fully formed to piss off the baseball establishment.
On his way up, he didn't shrink from his sometime moniker, the LeBron of baseball. He poured vats of eye black on his face to make himself look like a professional wrestler. In a minor league game last year, after hitting a home run, he blew a kiss to the opposing pitcher. (Harper tells me, "It was an 'eff you' from the mouth.") That's the sort of business that will get a major leaguer a fastball in his ear. As Hall of Fame third baseman Mike Schmidt put it: "I would think at some point the game itself, the competition on the field, is going to have to figure out a way to police this young man."
In other words: Harper is awesome—exactly what baseball needs. He's essentially a throwback: a cocky, ornery cuss who can back it all up. Ty Cobb minus the racism and chaw, Lenny Dykstra before the bankruptcy. He tells me Pete Rose, a.k.a. Charlie Hustle, is his favorite player and that "I want to play the game hard. I want to ram it down your throat, put you into left field when I'm going into second base."
Respect is going to be the issue with Harper. Not because of his contract, not because of Schmidt, not because he's just 19—but because he plays baseball like he doesn't care about anything other than making sure someone else loses. After batting away my questions with Boras-trained noncommittals, he lights up when I ask him what he misses about being a "kid." "Playing football," he says. "I'm getting chills just thinking about it. That first knock of the game, you are going on kickoff and you are just trying to smack somebody just as hard as you can. That's how I play baseball. I want to hit you. I want to run your ass over. Sorry."
Back in the cage, Harper looks at his hand, and I wonder if a montage of World Series trophies and an endless self-replenishing supply of Annie Savoys is flashing past his eyes. Luckily, it's fine. But we could have avoided the whole scare if he'd only had his gloves. He lost them, he tells me, three days earlier, after a demonstration for some college coaches. Well, not lost them; they were stolen. One of the coaches, someone from a group of adult human beings, had waited until Harper wasn't looking and swiped the gloves, maybe hoping that the souvenir would one day become the relic of a legend. "You'll see those on eBay soon," Harper says, laughing.
Dear MLB: Please don't muzzle the most entertaining prospect since Babe Ruth. Thank you, fans everywhere
"Fuuuuuuck!!!" This is Bryce Harper—the erstwhile pastime's answer to LeBron James, Mozart child prodigy of the great game. The Washington Nationals' 19-year-old prospect is taking big cuts in an impromptu batting-cage session on the campus of UC Irvine, all for my benefit. I wanted to see the supposed perfect swing in action. I wanted to witness baseball's next Barry Bonds. And I'm suddenly a little worried that he's just broken his hand.
The man who had been tossing lobs to Harper is a contracted soldier of super-agent Scott Boras, whose offices are just a few miles west—and in small part paid for by the commission he received from the $9.9 million contract Harper signed at the age of 17. Indeed, though barely of voting age, Harper is primed to make more money through sponsorships than almost any ballplayer in the league, and his baseball résumé already has the ring of legend: the 570-foot homer he hit in Las Vegas, where he was reared, at the age of 15; the thump a year later, at Tropicana Field, that was, at the time, the deepest recorded at the Tampa Bay Rays' home field; the blistering speed that allowed him to score from second on wild pitches regularly in high school.
Harper's swing is so violent that in the cage, the bat cracks even when he misses. The trainer seems not so comfortable: This is his first time underhanding batting practice to Bryce, and he keeps hearing about it from the kid. ("My dad"—Harper's trainer since T-ball—"is better at tossing these.") He's also crouched four feet from the end of Harper's bat; one errant swing and the trainer's teeth might be scattered to Newport Beach. "When I hit the ball," Harper says, "I do want to hurt it."
Now that Harper's the one hurt, he takes a hop-step out of the box. Again: "Fuuuuuuck!!!" A violent toss of his custom-made Marucci bat—inscribed with LUKE 1:37 ("For with God nothing shall be impossible")—across the batting cage. "Fuck it, I'm done." Harper shakes his hands vigorously and shoves them into a pile of infield dirt adjacent to the cage. "I didn't know I was hitting today, and I don't have my goddamned gloves," he says. "It hurts like a dick."
What makes Harper far more anticipated than your typical phenom is a sense that he not only recognizes the vastness of his potential but also feels plenty comfortable telling you about it. One minute he informs me that "baseball needs more superstars." The next, while discussing Albert Pujols signing with the Angels, he offers thoughtlessly, "Albert and I know each other and respect each other." In a sport in which "paying your dues" is practically in the job description—an institution that once made Michael Jordan ride around in a bus for five months—Harper seems to have emerged fully formed to piss off the baseball establishment.
On his way up, he didn't shrink from his sometime moniker, the LeBron of baseball. He poured vats of eye black on his face to make himself look like a professional wrestler. In a minor league game last year, after hitting a home run, he blew a kiss to the opposing pitcher. (Harper tells me, "It was an 'eff you' from the mouth.") That's the sort of business that will get a major leaguer a fastball in his ear. As Hall of Fame third baseman Mike Schmidt put it: "I would think at some point the game itself, the competition on the field, is going to have to figure out a way to police this young man."
In other words: Harper is awesome—exactly what baseball needs. He's essentially a throwback: a cocky, ornery cuss who can back it all up. Ty Cobb minus the racism and chaw, Lenny Dykstra before the bankruptcy. He tells me Pete Rose, a.k.a. Charlie Hustle, is his favorite player and that "I want to play the game hard. I want to ram it down your throat, put you into left field when I'm going into second base."
Respect is going to be the issue with Harper. Not because of his contract, not because of Schmidt, not because he's just 19—but because he plays baseball like he doesn't care about anything other than making sure someone else loses. After batting away my questions with Boras-trained noncommittals, he lights up when I ask him what he misses about being a "kid." "Playing football," he says. "I'm getting chills just thinking about it. That first knock of the game, you are going on kickoff and you are just trying to smack somebody just as hard as you can. That's how I play baseball. I want to hit you. I want to run your ass over. Sorry."
Back in the cage, Harper looks at his hand, and I wonder if a montage of World Series trophies and an endless self-replenishing supply of Annie Savoys is flashing past his eyes. Luckily, it's fine. But we could have avoided the whole scare if he'd only had his gloves. He lost them, he tells me, three days earlier, after a demonstration for some college coaches. Well, not lost them; they were stolen. One of the coaches, someone from a group of adult human beings, had waited until Harper wasn't looking and swiped the gloves, maybe hoping that the souvenir would one day become the relic of a legend. "You'll see those on eBay soon," Harper says, laughing.
KeepOnPushing
New member
Cosmic_Cannon;4191824 said:
i Like Gaby , A.Sanchez being bumped down in the rotation should help as well Anibal just inconsistent
KeepOnPushing
New member
peagle05;4198822 said:
Figured that was coming in his Last contract year, only reason he was still hanging around was cuz of the $ ..
What a great Career he had
Livefromclayco
New member
peagle05;4198822 said:
peagle05;4198822 said:
He should've retired last year
He been fuckin up the lineup for two years now
Last edited:
Co_Town_Michael
New member
allday1992;4201074 said:
That's what happens when people play for greed instead of retiring for the good of the team.
rice n gravy
New member
i dunno my Phillies bruhs
we looking mighty sick and flabby and the season hasnt even started yet : (
guess we gota get use to winning and losing games 2-1 and sht
we looking mighty sick and flabby and the season hasnt even started yet : (
guess we gota get use to winning and losing games 2-1 and sht
rice n gravy
New member
too much hype around the Marlins i see 81-81 in their future
infamous114
Moderator
rice n gravy;4204619 said:
Nah bruh, we going after the division
rice n gravy
New member
infamous114;4204621 said:
then blow up the team like yall do everytime yall do something noteworthy lol
infamous114
Moderator
rice n gravy;4204673 said:
: Presses the Ether button to your post :
Co_Town_Michael
New member
Rangers are three-peating as AL champs this year.
Book it.
Book it.
Cosmic_Cannon
New member
rice n gravy;4204615 said:
M Bison voice **Yes, Yes, Yes**
The Phils will win 85 - 90 games, they won't win the division. The Marlins will, and they'll be in the WS.
rage;4206444 said:
Not your time yet bruh, also they're in the wrong division. 2013 is your time.
KeepOnPushing
New member
rage;4206444 said:
You gotta relax
