The Post Where I Constantly Mock Reilly Again
Ever so often, one person will come along who inspires their community, their city, and eventually the country. Someone with such intelligence and charisma, that one cannot help but follow because something special is bound to happen.
Sadly, that man is not Rick Reilly. Let’s see what “Ol’ Cliché” is up to today. Hey, he’s talking about baseball! Coming from Reilly, this has to be… something (note: Deadspin already covered in excellent quality the fact that Reilly blatantly recycled a previous Sports Illustrated column from about five years ago, to be used in this week’s issue of ESPN The Magazine and ESPN.com).
Let’s begin… this should be mind-numbing.
I personally find baseball so crushingly boring.
I find you to be a turd caddy.
“Why do all these ballparks have to be so precious?” I was opining the other night.
Some men talk, Rick Reilly opines. As you were, puny peasants.
What is this, pachinko? I mean, if I were commissioner … “
And that’s when my buddy spun around on me, red-faced, and yelled, “Tell you what! I hope you do end up commissioner! But until then, just shut up and watch the game!!!”
Unnamed Reilly Friend: Hero.
I was shocked into silence. Because I realized, “He thinks I could be commish!”
No, he thinks you’re a blowhard and only brought you along because you were paying the tab.
And so, I am hereby announcing my candidacy. Bud Selig is, what, 108?
I wasn’t sure you were serious about this until you mocked Selig’s age. Ho boy, here we go!
We’ll put in a pitch clock. They let pitchers fuss endlessly with their rosin bags, the rubber and their eternally askew cups, while we fans decide which of our peanuts resemble presidents.
To be fair, this actually gives you more time to scroll through your previous columns to see which one you’ll use next.
But with my 15-second pitch clock, we get the hitter in the box, the pitcher on the mound and everybody in their homes by 10 p.m. We get two-hour-15-minute games instead of four-hour sunburns. We get World Series games that kids can see end. And not a dime of ad money is lost!
Actually Rick, assuming pitchers take 30 seconds a throw, times about 200 pitches a game… it would cut off 50 minutes, to cut it down to 15 seconds. I never thought you’d overestimate anything to make a point. My innocence is lost. Oh and in case you were wondering… BASEBALL ISN’T FOOTBALL.
Once a week, every player signs autographs for 10 minutes by the dugout. Don’t tell me you’re too busy, Mr. Seven-Car Garage. I’ve seen you elbows-deep in the clubhouse porn stash.
Reilly will forever be known for blowing the lid on the closely guarded clubhouse porn secret, started and passed down by the 1918 Detroit Tigers.
When I bring in the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) — and let it test anytime, road or home — we’ll finally see who’s faker than Octomom’s lips.
A good idea torpedoed by your overbearing need to make a TV-PG joke about everything.
If you’re 0-for-4, the crowd picks your at-bat music. Is it my fault if they choose “Nothing From Nothing” by Billy Preston?
Besides this being typical Reilly stupidity, this logistically is a head scratcher. Will the crowd go through the lineup pre-game with the PA announcer and vote on each player’s music? Isn’t that a giant middle finger for no reason? Plus I can see that same player having to do his mandatory autograph signings (see above) and writing “Timmy, #$(! you. –Hank Blalock.”
The National League will get the DH. No more pitchers swinging a bat at a ball the way Paris Hilton swings a shovel at a moth.
Or… better idea. No one has the DH and you stop being a tool.
We’ll fine more players. The NFL fines guys $5,000 for not having their socks right. Nuggets forward Kenyon Martin got a $25,000 fine for shoving a guy. But often, Selig yawns when pitchers throw 95 mph retaliation beanballs. You want to brain a guy just because he stood in the box after his moon shot? Okay. We’ll fine you until your kids end up in public school.
Listen, Captain Offense. Pitching inside is part of the game. Pitching to intimidate is part of the game. You want to clean it up? Make every pitcher have to walk to the plate in the game. Oh wait, you don’t want that. I hate you.
Umps will be in charge of rainouts year round, not the home team. I’m sick of seeing a full house soak for two hours 59 minutes waiting for the manager to get word from his owner to call it, just because the greedball wants to sell more $9 beers. We’ll put Double Doppler 9000 in the umps’ room, and they’ll decide in under an hour.
Balls that hit the foul pole are foul. Duh.
Duh? Did I miss something obvious? Why do you leave it so short and simple, Rick? Why? I needed this. I needed you. You’re just like my biological father. Wait… what?
A prospect won’t be allowed to enter an MLB farm system until he’s the age of a college sophomore, just like in the NBA. Over the years, I’ve noticed most baseball players are dumber than toe lint.
There is empirical evidence somewhere he’s pulling that observation from, you see.
In 2004, ex-Cubs ace Mark Prior told USC’s business school that he heard he was “one of only 17 current major leaguers with a college degree.” That stat can be matched only in the American janitorial industry.
Oh ho ho ho, ZING, RICK! ZING!
And most important, if you’re the dweeb fan on your cell behind home plate waving at the camera, the rest of your section gets to pour beer down your shorts.
Funny story, that guy has always been you. Et tu, Reilly?
Now shut up and watch the game.
Watch the abortion of a game you just turned it into as commissioner? Well, I guess I could, but then again… at this point I might as well just watch football. These ideas were lamer than Barbaro around the final turn. You just got Reilly’ed.