At Last

I'm in Amsterdam, on route to New Delhi. I don't have much time. I paid three Euros for 15 valuable minutes on the internet.

I'll be back next week, and my biggest fear was coming home to the still-winless Toronto Maple Leafs. I need not worry anymore.

I'm celebrating the Maple Leafs' victory with the Dutch, and feel just about the same as Tomas Kaberle and Lee Stempniak, above.

Kaberle, five points. That's my boy.

Life Isn't Fair

Toronto FC, in the biggest game of its young existence, delivered the type of pathetic performance only a Toronto team could in a must-win situation.

The Toronto Maple Leafs? A strong, and much better, effort. But another loss. Another fucking loss. I don't know about you, but when I think about the Leafs, I find it impossible not to shake my head in disgust. There's certainly no pressure on Phil Kessel to live up to that 2010 first-round draft pick, which I pray - to Allah, Jesus, Buddha, Krishna ... you name 'em, I'm praying to 'em - will not be a lottery pick.

And to end the weekend, a champagne shower of one A.J. Burnett. What we all wanted to see. Fucking Yankee$.

Playoffs?!?!1

Even the New York Islanders finally won a game.

What makes those standings hurt all the more is the fact that the Air Canada Centre is once again an easy place to play.

I know this is only Ron Wilson's second season coaching the team, but if he can't get the penalty kill up to at least 80%, he should be fired.

The ominous start to the season has left me detached from the team and thinking: fuck truculence. I'd rather have skill.

I'm with the ever quotable Jim Mora: "I just hope we can win a game."

(And a friendly reminder: please make sure to vote in the poll to your right.)

Gone Vegasin'

I'm off to the beautiful, sunny, and warm Las Vegas strip. I've got bets to make: $100 each on the Maple Leafs to win the Stanley Cup, the Raptors to win the NBA Finals, and the Blue Jays to win the World Series.

I'm hoping the stars will align and, in the end, deliver the trifecta. Considering my odds, I might be able to retire. Freedom 27.

When I return, I trust I'll find the Maple Leafs in the win column.

See you next week.

(And let me know what you think of the white background.)

Appreciative

Five games into the season, we Leafs fans have a lot to be thankful for: the NHL's only winless team (the New York Islanders don't count), its worst defensive club (24 goals against in five games), a 63% success rate on the penalty kill, and a "starting goalie" with a .812 save percentage and 5.56 GAA.

The roster isn't strong. I get that. But I shouldn't be left weeping every time I tune in to watch a game.

While I've never much believed in the notion that a coach has a hand in how his team starts a game, or a period, I'm beginning to wonder about Ron Wilson. It's much easier to blame him for the fact the Leafs seem to always be trailing by a goal or two five minutes after the puck drops. And I've got to blame someone not named Vesa Toskala.

Granted it's only been a year and change, but horrendous defensive zone play and suspect penalty killing have begun to define Wilson's tenure in Toronto. Hopefully that'll change once Jonas Gustavsson takes up permanent residence between the pipes, but I'm worried. Enough to be thinking about the ex, Paul Maurice. And no Leafs coach should ever leave me pining for Maurice's return. I just can't shake the feeling: if Wilson couldn't get it done in San Jose, there's no way he accomplishes anything of substance (playoffs!!1) with the Maple Leafs.

In all seriousness: I think I might have actually, truly convinced myself that the Leafs would quality for the post-season. That's what makes the 0-4-1 start so difficult. Truculence is great and all, but I'd rather it be served in victory. There's only so many useless, staged fights I can watch.

The Joey MacDonald era kicks off tonight, and I hope it begins with me looking skywards in gratitude, rather than despair. I know; we're really reaching now.

As for Toronto's 77 games left on the schedule, I don't know whether to be thankful for them or not.

UPDATE: Toskala's injured. How convenient. And Tyler Bozak has been freed.

A long, cold, harsh winter ...

Cito Gaston isn't going anywhere. So saith Jeff Blair in yesterday's discussion about the playoffs (and the Blue Jays). And according to Blair's colleague Robert MacLeod, pitching guru and father of the staff Brad Arnsberg is soon to be relieved of his duties.

You tell me: how the hell am I supposed to believe in Alex Anthopoulos if he agrees to keep Cito around, while allowing Arnsberg - in whom I trust - to leave? I'd really rather not get started on the wrong foot with Toronto's new general manager.

It's all happening backwards.

A new president should hire a new GM, and the new GM should bring in the manager of his choice. The interim president shouldn't be appointing a new interim-but-maybe-not-interim GM, even if it is an in-house promotion. Said new GM shouldn't be agreeing to keep the current manager, in whose honour there's recently been a reported clubhouse mutiny.

It all certainly bodes well.

And this, from the Blair discussion ...

eyebleaf: "Jeff, on a scale of 1-10, what are the chances Doc is a Blue Jay on opening day?

Blair: "One."

It's going to get worse, before it gets better.

I'm not a machine ...

I certainly ran with that whole "I Believe In Vernon Wells" shtick. It was a grind; he took a ton of abuse this season. But I like to think I pulled it off. I never stopped believing. And Wells rewarded me: he hit .312 in September, the month that doesn't matter. Vernon's going to ride that average into the off-season, and into 2010. Next summer, he's going to earn all $12.5 million of his salary.

Okay, fine, maybe not all of it. But certainly three quarters of it.

My point is: I don't have the energy to believe in Vesa Toskala. And, frankly, I'd rather believe in Jonas Gustavsson.

At least Wells has a track record. A few successful seasons, Gold Glove awards, and a couple of All-Star selections to hang his very expensive coat on. Even, believe it or not, MVP votes.

Toskala's got nothing. I'm holding on to February 2009 and his .912 save percentage for dear life.

It was up to Toskala to make sure there was no goaltending controversy in Toronto this season. Four periods and an overtime later, he's already failed that test. An .800 save percentage? Sample size be damned, get out of the crease.

With Toskala taking home $4 million this season, and his trade value likely as low as it's ever been, it's hard to believe the Leafs gave up a first-round pick to acquire him. Actually, it's not, but you know what I mean.

San Jose sold high back in June 2007, a concept the Leafs are still trying to grasp. And that's where it gets tough for the current regime. Do you play Toskala, and hope he regains some of his mostly average form, in the hopes of getting something, anything, back in return for him? Or do you unleash The Monster (I've been sitting on that one for a while), and see what he can do?

I'd love for Brian Burke to be able to trade Toskala. Perhaps give Detroit a call. They did take Larry Murphy.

But Gustavsson's here on a one-year contract and, if he's the real deal, he needs the opportunity to showcase his talent. One legendary pre-season save later, I think we all agree that young Jonas can better Toskala's numbers. I mean, that save was out of control. And Jesus knows Vesa hasn't set the bar high enough.

If the Leafs are going to be unbearable to watch, which it seems they might, I'd rather it be Gustavsson being shelled than Toskala. Vesa's worth little to nothing to us now.

I could defend Vernon Wells because of his, and I use the term loosely, "glory days." Toskala has yet to see his own, and it's hard to believe there are any in his future.

UPDATE: Gustavsson has been emancipated. He'll be in goal tonight. It will be his first of many victories against the Ottawa Senators.

Lamentation

I've had 40-odd hours to mourn. I'm ready to talk about it. The loud music you heard Saturday night? Yep, party at Richard Griffin's house.

J.P. Ricciardi had to go. It was clear he'd run his course in Toronto. But not without one final public relations nightmare to pave his exit. According to Dave Perkins at The Star, the infamous Paul Beeston, he of "the plan," went to the moguls of the Rogers empire during the middle of last week seeking "the okay to fire Ricciardi." Clearly the interim president wanted to send a message to Jays fans that, you know, he's actually doing something.

Before he could, the Beest had to help put out the fire that was CitoCity (TM Ghostrunner on First) burning. And after an apparent "mutiny" in the clubhouse, I believe Cito Gaston will once again be an ex-Blue Jay manager. Which means he will have to retire from baseball. Because if the past is any indication, he might be out of a job for a while.

It's been a helluva second go-round with Cito. In 2008 he came and saved the day, yet only 14 months later it seems just about everyone - fans, players, fellow coaches - is sick of him. I hope he'll one day pen a memoir, aptly titled "The Cito Effect," so I can learn what Jeremy Accardo did to him, the logic behind playing Kevin Millar, and why he hates Randy Ruiz.

Anyway, J.P. I've said my piece about him. Many times. And people noticed. I've also made peace with his departure. It was inevitable. Ricciardi said it: "... it just wasn't quite enough." And he's right. Under Ricciardi's name, the Blue Jays finished in second spot in the AL East only once. In eight years, the team never finished a season within single digits of the division winner; 10 games was the closest they got, back in 2006. J.P. isn't a robot from the future, sent back in time to destroy the Toronto Blue Jays, as some in this crazy city will have you believe. But it's time for a change. (So, this is what it feels like to be a Republican.)

It hurts because I believe J.P. leaves Toronto a jaded man. A jaded general manager, at least. He believed he could succeed. He believed in what he'd learned in Oakland. He believed in Moneyball. He then believed in money, period. He believed he was the man able to scale Mount AL East. I did too. But he failed.

By all accounts, Ricciardi was as passionate as they come. He wanted badly to win, and he leaves Toronto with Roy Halladay giving him the respect he deserves. I'll miss his love for the game. I'll miss his feud with the media. Even his Boston accent. Most of all, I'll miss him referring to guys as "the player."

Ricciardi's legacy will live on. Unfairly, it is tied to Vernon Wells, and the anchor that is his contract. But on the other side are Adam Lind, Aaron Hill, Ricky Romero, Travis Snider, Brett Cecil, Mark Rzepczynski, Shaun Marcum, Jesse Litsch, J.P. Arincibia, Jake Marisnick, and more. J.P. has left his mark on this team. For the better.

That's not to say his replacement, Alex Anthopoulos, doesn't have his work cut out for him. He does. But Anthopoulos doesn't have to tear down the foundation, like Ricciardi did. What he needs is direction from ownership, and long-term vision, something sorely lacking around these parts of late. I'm not worried, though, because Anthopoulos is CANADIAN, which can only mean that he will undoubtedly be the best general manager in the history of all baseball general managers.

In a sick and twisted way, for all the hate leveled at Ricciardi over the past couple of years, I want Anthopoulos to fail. Because it became far too easy in this town for people to point the finger at Ricciardi for all that is wrong with the Toronto Blue Jays. It isn't, and never was, that simple.

In all seriousness, Anthopoulos's story is, straight up, an inspiring one. At 23, an unpaid intern with the Montreal Expos. At 32, general manager of the Toronto Blue Jays. Here's hoping he can apply some of his life's trajectory onto the Blue Jays.

The winds of change are upon us. We wait for the next domino to fall.

So long, J.P. Ricciardi. It was a pleasure. You did good.

Celebrating Excellence

One day, I will tell my unborn children about the legend that is Harry Leroy Halladay III. They will learn how Doc dominated baseball's toughest division, throwing complete game after complete game, while forever protecting the honour of his teammates.

Thanks to a ball aimed at the bulbous David Ortiz, with Boston having clinched a playoff spot, and the Toronto Blue Jays once again playing out the stretch, the legend of Doc grew to larger than life proportions on a chilly autumn night in September. No matter the standings, and no matter the score, Roy Halladay will let no one, especially not Jonathan Papelbon, take advantage of his team.

The incredible irony of it all: it went down in what might have been Halladay's final start as a Toronto Blue Jay. Poetic, no? Doc could have been ejected, but it certainly didn't matter to him.

If it was goodbye, Doc ended the Toronto chapter of his career the only way he possibly could have: with a complete game shutout in Fenway Park. And that's how I'll remember him. As the man who brought the Evil Empires to their knees.

We all thought we couldn't possibly respect, adore, and appreciate Roy Halladay any more than we already did. We were wrong.

I’ve said my piece about Mats Sundin. Over and over and over and over again. I also said goodbye, back in February.

So it was with less of a heavy heart than expected that I learned that Sundin had officially hung up his skates for good.

First: relief. There will be no repeat of last year’s “will he or won’t he?” fiasco.

Second: rage. The garbage spewn about on Twitter after Sundin’s announcement is not worth linking to. It only reaffirms the fact that there are a legion of so-called Leafs fans whom I want absolutely nothing to do with. If you chose the day Sundin officially left the game as yet another day to bash him, you’ll never fully grasp what he accomplished as a Toronto Maple Leaf. (Read: You're an idiot.)

Finally: adulation. I felt, and still feel, the urge to scale Toronto’s highest building and yell at the top of my lungs: “Mats Sundin: Greatest Maple Leaf of All-Time!!!!1” I'm thinking my balcony will be suffice.

Many great men – Wendel Clark and Doug Gilmour in particular – have worn the “C” in Toronto. Sundin was better than both of them, and he will always be my captain.

Thanks for the memories, Mats.

Guest Post - Life on the Other Side

My man Drew, aka LloydtheBarber, holds it down over at Ghostrunner on First. It is, in his words: "Blue Jays Detritus from OPS to OMG." It's also prolific. If you haven't been reading his work, your 2009 Toronto Blue Jays season has been a lot worse than mine. It's quality writing as found on Ghostrunner that makes following the Blue Jays, with heart and soul, a little less painful.

Drew also happens to be a Montreal Canadiens fan. And he's agreed to opine on life on the other side of a rivalry that only seems to get better. Ladies and gentlemen, Drew:

If you are in any way familiar with my baseball work, you'll probably agree that I'm one of the least sentimental guys around. I don't care for celebrating old victories or varnishing near misses or Pyrrhic triumphs for the greater good. Additionally, I don't give a good God damn about the CFL or the CBC or the Tragically fucking Hip or any other arcane Canadiana foisted upon the great people of this great land every day of the week. To me it seems abundantly clear we live in a very different world; let's all move on and celebrate the next victory, the next triumph rather than resting on our increasingly distant past.

How very progressive of me, no? Except for one thing: it all goes out the window when it comes to the institution that is the Montreal Canadiens.

In no other pursuit in life do I longingly gaze to the past more frequently than excitedly looking to the future. Nowhere else will I make excuses and turn a blind eye to unfair historical advantages (All Your Francophones Are Belong to Toe); nowhere else will I covet the past so tightly and appreciate the way the team continues to pay homage to the glory days.

I was born and raised in Southern Ontario, a young Leafs fan because I didn't know any better. One ill-fated trade later and I was a Habs fan. Things are simple when you're a kid. "I like Russ Courtnall, he plays for Montreal now, I guess I like Montreal." I was just in time for Cup runs and Forum crowds. I moved seamlessly from St. Patrick versus the hated Bruins to Jeff Hackett and the realignment to 8 games a year with the local Leafs, the team we love to (and have to) hate. I take it all in stride because my fandom is unwavering, neither up nor down.

I take the good with the bad, the incredible third jerseys alongside Mario Trembley. I remember Pierre Turgeon with nothing but fondness thanks to his participation in the Forum closing festivities. I long for the return of Sheldon Souray and believe implicitly in Carey Price. On the baseball diamond I resent the business of fetishizing "grit and heart" but I spent years arguing I'd rather have Saku Koivu over Vinny Lecavalier.

Judging by that last statement, you'll see I'm unlike many Habs fans. I will not turn my back on the players on the ice at the first inkling of underperformance. Habs are Habs, and I support them all the same. Be they Stephane Richer, Patrice Brisbois, or Chris Higgins. I'm sure I'll come around on Gomez and Gionta or whichever undersized speed guy is next in Gainey's sights. I don't comb through the team news minutiae or rosterbate the night away because it just doesn't bring me the same pleasure that simply watching the Trois Couleurs fly around the ice and listening to the Beer/Telecom Centre crowd does every single time.

The allure of the mildly exotic and the built-in rivalry with my Leaf-loving friends hooked me early on and continues paying dividends today. One game in Montreal and you'll see. The wall of red shirts and Export cups, the biting, smoke filled air around the arena and the sense of something bigger than the game at hand and you’re lucky just being there to take it all in.

Since my gracious host asked for a season preview and I've wasted far too many words trying to explain what it feels like to be Habs fan, here is my thing with the Habs in 2009/10: they'll either compete or they won't. They'll be good or they'll get crushed.

I’m sure it will be a swell year. The Habs will battle the Leafs and Sens for the final “playoff” spot as French-Canadian hands are wrung so tightly you’ll see the smoke from 40 Bay Street. To be honest, I don't really care. Being a Habs fan (for me) means the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. The only thing I know for sure: those 8 games connected by the 401 make the entire miserable winter worth while.

Passing the Torch

“If every instinct you have is wrong, then the opposite would have to be right.”

- Jerry Seinfeld, to George Costanza, in “The Opposite.”

Another season without a captain leading our beloved Maple Leafs? I’m off the idea. Huge.

Allow me to get straight to the point: captain Luke Schenn. Not in 2012. Right now.

No big announcement, no press conference, no interviews. Nothing. Simply young Luke stepping onto the ice on opening night with the “C” on his shoulder, adding to what will already be an electrifying night at the Air Canada Centre. Imagine that.

Going captainless in 2008/2009 was the right thing to do after Mats Sundin left town in all the wrong ways. Toronto didn’t get to say goodbye to, and close the door on, Sundin until a cold, snowy night in February, when Mats returned home wearing another blue and white jersey, this one with a touch of green.

Closure. We needed it. We got it. And now it’s time to move on. Now it’s time to pass the torch.

Think about it: only 12 months ago, I was clamoring for Schenn to be sent back to Kelowna. I was one of many who thought another season of junior hockey, and a trip to the World Junior Hockey Championship, was what was best for Schenn’s development. And I was wrong. Gloriously so. Watching Schenn play in the NHL – and play well – was a joyous experience. I learned plenty about our young stalwart on defence. So did guys like Evgeni Malkin and Tyler Kennedy.

I know what you’re thinking, because I’m having the same doubts: Schenn’s too young; too raw. He’ll celebrate only his 20th birthday on November 2nd. He’s got work to do in order to improve his own game. The pressures of being captain in this hockey-mad city of ours are exactly what Schenn doesn’t need on his broad shoulders.

Yet, moving forward, there’s no doubt about it: the Toronto Maple Leafs are Luke Schenn’s team.

And, channeling my hero George Louis Costanza, if every instinct I have about Luke Schenn is wrong, the opposite would have to be right.

Until We Meet Again

I didn't go to the game. I didn't even watch it. Last night, for the first time, I saw Roy Halladay dominate a box score. Inning by inning, strikeout after strikeout. In the end, another complete game shutout.

And it won't be the last at the SkyDome. I believe Roy Halladay will be a Toronto Blue Jay in 2010.

For some inexplicable reason, I have faith in the plan Paul Beeston is shortly due to unveil. I know; I have no reason to. I know absolutely nothing about it. Nobody does. Yet I remain unhinged. Rumours of a $120 million dollar payroll were enough to make me believe that will indeed be the case. Like George Costanza said: "Jerry, just remember, it's not a lie if you believe it."

Pat Gillick as president? Again, I know, the franchise shouldn't continue delving back into the past. It's not a healthy way to live. But I'm all over it. If I've learned anything over the years as a Blue Jays and Maple Leafs fan, it's that my nostalgia quota can never be filled.

Ian White: Porn Star

This one speaks for itself. (And is NSFW.) Enjoy...

A tip of the cap to Sports And The City reader Ilan for sending this gem to my inbox.

White may have shaved the stache, but he still cracks my top-six on the Maple Leafs' blue line.

Keepers

NHL general managers aren't the only ones making difficult roster decisions these days. I had to lock up four guys in my Yahoo! Sports keeper league last night, and I agonized over the decision. A lot more than I probably should have. Then again, this is the closest I'm ever going to get to running a franchise, and there's a decent chunk of money on the line - 20 guys at $125 a piece.

I finished third out of 20 last season and in the process, in what's becoming a disturbing trend, traded away my first, second, and fourth round picks in 2009, and my third and sixth round picks in 2010. Thankfully I finished in a money position (top five), otherwise I might have had to fire myself from my post.

It's not all rainbows and sunshine though; the way our league works is that draft picks must be traded for draft picks. For my 2009 first, second, and fourth round picks I received two 12th round picks (out of 12 rounds), and an eighth round pick, respectively, in return. For the 2010 third and sixth rounders, two 12th round picks came back my way.

I may have mortgaged the future. This might be a rebuilding season.

Since we all consider ourselves to be fantasy hockey aficionados, I'm curious as to how you might have made my decision differently. Below is the roster I had to pick four players from, and each player's respective fantasy points ...

Forwards:

Sidney Crosby - 2830

Brad Boyes - 1985

Todd White - 1960

Alex Kovalev - 1820

Jason Blake - 1725

Kris Versteeg - 1580

Shawn Horcoff - 1485

Mikhail Grabovski - 1255

Andrew Ebbett - 855

Defence:

Nicklas Lidstrom - 1845

Shea Weber - 1485

Filip Kuba - 1150

Carlo Colaiacovo - 850

Goalies:

Marty Turco - 1825

Ilya Bryzgalov - 1747

Which four would you take? And, no, I haven't a clue as to how Todd White put up 73 points, including 34 on the power play, last season. But there's no way he can do it again. Right?

My selections: Crosby; tough call. Boyes; if he can work on his atrocious -20, he's good for at least 2000 points. Lidstrom; the game's top fantasy defenceman. And Weber; high-scoring defenceman are at a premium.

I flipped a coin between Weber and Turco. Marty was awful last season, yet he still put up more than 1800 pool points. It was a best-of-seven coin toss. Who am I to argue with gravity? Weber one, four-two.

It was tough to see Jason Blake go back into the draft; #55's my guy. Kovalev, too. But he's simply too hit and miss; too moody. Versteeg's a player on the rise, and Turco and Bryz are both number one goalies.

The way I see it, Crosby's the equivalent of two solid guys up front, and Boyes might be even better on an improving St. Louis team. Forwards who can put up 1500 points are available in abundance; I'm releasing five of them. Drafting a goalie will certainly be a priority and, if all else fails, I'm sure Ray Emery will be available. Barring injury, I'll have one of the league's most potent defence cores thanks to Weber and Lidstrom.

It all means two things: one of Lidstrom and Weber will surely suffer a season-ending injury in October, and Kovalev's going to rip it in Ottawa.

I could get used to this ...

Nazem Kadri, from Niklas Hagman, and Tomas Kaberle:

And how about that fist pump? Proper.

It's been almost three months since Toronto drafted him, but I remain at the stage where I'm tickled by the fact that Kadri is actually a Maple Leaf.

Since Friday night, I've been walking around mumbling "Kadri, Kessel, and Schenn." Repeatedly. The future is bright. And when's the last time we could say that?

Is this real life?

I have emerged, relatively unscathed, from a 33 and a half hour bachelor party in Toronto. A copious amount of alcohol was consumed. In large part to celebrate the arrival of #81; Madison, Wisconsin's own, Phil Kessel. (And the soon-to-be-groom.)

I admit it: I chuckled, rather boisterously, upon reading the first sentence of Damien Cox's column Saturday morning ...

"For the 10th time in the past 20 years, the Maple Leafs have sacrificed a first-round selection in the NHL entry draft to make a significant trade."

Who didn't see that coming?

But I digress. Cox's column was, in fact, borderline positive.

It's one thing to trade a first-round draft pick for an aging Brian Leetch. Or a 29-year-old (and going on 41) Wendel Clark. Or a 31-year-old Owen Nolan. It's another to trade a first-round draft pick for a goalie - Vesa "my five-hole is always open" Toskala - unproven as a legitimate number one.

But it's a whole new ball game when you trade two first-round draft picks, and a second-round pick, for a guy who's scored 36 goals in the NHL before the age of 22.

I believe in Phil Kessel.

Don't get me wrong; I thought, much like you, that the days of trading first-round picks were over. I thought we had dawned upon a new era; you know, an era in which the Leafs would actually develop their own talent. But the Kessel deal is one, I have decided, that I can get behind. The Kessel deal is one that had to be made. Brian Burke has found his top-six forward. He's locked up him up, long-term. And at the high cost of three draft picks, including two first-rounders, so be it. In Brian Burke I trust.

How can you not be excited about a guy who averaged only 16:32 of ice-time a game last season, along with limited power play duty, and still potted 32 goals? Only freedom-hating terrorists can't appreciate that shit.

How does a future of Nazem Kadri, Kessel, and Luke Schenn sound? Boners abound, I say.

The best part: Kessel, coming off shoulder surgery, will be ready to play in mid-November. When it matters.

UPDATE: Playoffs!!1

UPDATE #2: "Phil the Thrill." What do we think?

Meet Jake Marisnick

Our Toronto Blue Jays selected Jake Marisnick out of Riverside Poly High School in California in the third round, 104th overall, of the 2009 MLB draft. He is, by all accounts, a "five-tool player," and the Jays went almost $700,000 over-slot to get his autograph on a contract. (In your face, Selig!!1)

Jake's also on Twitter, and he was kind enough to answer some random questions from the few, the proud, the Blue Jays blogosphere:

eyebleaf: Batting average, slugging percentage, and on-base percentage - which one's the most important to you?

Jake Marisnick: On-base percentage. The more a player reaches base the more he has a chance to score and help his team win.

The Tao of Stieb: How are you finding the transition to wooden bats?

JM: I have had a chance to use wood bats in the past so it is going good. Wood lets you know when you are doing something wrong, where as metal lets you get away with those things.

Drew-LtB - Ghostrunner on First: What do you think is your best defensive trait (arm, range, speed, jumps, etc.)?

JM: I think my best defensive trait would have to be instincts. Knowing what's around me, where to go with the ball when I get it, and the jumps I get when the ball comes off the bat.

eyebleaf: Any regrets about missing out on college?

JM: Coach Horton is going to have a good team up at Oregon (ed: the University of Oregon, where Jake was recruited to play) and I am curious on how that will go this year. I know the coaching staff will do great. But playing baseball instead of sitting in a classroom is something I cant complain about. I know I made the right choice.

The Ack - weekend editor, The Tao of Stieb: What do you like better: the powder blue Jays jersey? Or the 1992/1993 Jays jersey?

JM: Well I like what came with the 1992/93 Jays jersey. So I'd have to go with that one.

Joanna - Hum and Chuck: Do you have a favourite Blue Jays player, past or present? If so, why?

JM: Coach Greg Myers was my assistant high school coach and I really respect him and the stories he told me about how to play the game. I also like Travis Snider and how he plays the game and how fast he went through the system. With any luck I can do the same.

Ian H. - The Blue Jay Hunter: What was the draft day experience like - were you anxiously waiting by the phone for "the call" or did you go about your routine like it was any other day?

JM: When I woke up I was a little more excited than on a regular day. But I just hung out with my brothers and mom and dad waiting to hear what team was going to select me.

eyebleaf: Why do you use Twitter?

JM: It allows people to get an idea of what it's like going through the draft and living the life of a minor leaguer, even though I'm sure it seems pretty boring right now. I'm just happy I have some good people who follow me. Hope I don't let them down.

Joanna - Hum and Chuck: What do you know about Toronto, and Canadians, in general?

JM: To be very honest I was always an Angels fan since they're my home town team, but I hope to learn a lot more in the future.

eyebleaf: What number do you plan on wearing once you make it to "the show?"

JM: #12. It has been my number for as long as I can remember in both baseball and football so with some luck I may get that number. But I'm not too superstitious.

eyebleaf: A two-sport star, what made you choose baseball over football?

JM: Playing in the Major Leagues has always been a goal of mine since I was a little kid. Football is something I picked up in high school and enjoyed playing, but I didn’t have the dream of playing in the NFL so I decided to stick with the sport I have loved my entire life.

And we're glad you did, Jake.

In all seriousness, Marisnick's answer to The Ack's question was NAILS. And on-base percentage was indeed the correct response to the first question. How does an outfield of Adam Lind, Jake Marisnick, and Travis Snider sound? (Vernon Wells can DH, or something.) The best part: Jake grew up supporting his home town team. He's my kind of guy.

A hearty thanks to Jake and his team for indulging us. Never has there been a more highly touted high school Blue Jays draft pick. (No pressure.) We wish him luck on his journey to Toronto.

See you in few, Jake.

"Don't even look. It's Gone."

Win #66, in game #145, might have been the best one yet. Think about it. A Roy Halladay victory in New York. Five home runs, two by Travis Snider. Adam Lind officially joining the 30 HR/100 RsBI club. And, best of all: donneybrook!1

I could go on: Brett Cecil's body shot; Cito Gaston, ready to throw down; 5-10 John McDonald, all up in this bitch like he's 6-4; the priceless look on Ricky Romero's face.

For one night, the Toronto Blue Jays were again fun to watch. Ridiculous as it may sound, I love a good brawl on the diamond. I needed yesterday to happen. I'd been waiting for it.

By the time the dust settled in the 8th inning, I'd forgiven Jesse Carlson for his subpar 2009. For once, a Toronto Blue Jays pitcher stood up for his hitters. And it was beautiful. It's one thing for Randy Ruiz to get hit, in the face no less, by a Josh Towers whatever-he-throws. It's another for Edwin Encarnacion to get plunked. But no team, especially not our AL East rival, puts a ball to the back of Lighthouse Hill without retribution. For far too long had the Jays been pushed around without shoving back. And let no one tell you otherwise; it's always more fun to push back against the Yankees.

Somebody, please, a contract for Rod Barajas; .273 OBP and all.

In the end, yes, we're all glad no one was seriously hurt. More importantly, all of Toronto is hoping Jorge Posada's feelings aren't damaged beyond repair. A ball being thrown behind him; imagine! Poor baby. Rod Black's most epic call of the season - "Don't even look. It's gone." - rings true not only to the absolute bomb Snider hit to right field last night, but also to the respect I once had for Jorge.

And, yes, I will continue to believe that Johnny Mac's left to the side of Joe Girardi's head was no accident. It makes the tale that much better.

"It's a beautiful thing. Especially since Carlson didn't leave the dugout when he was ejected. Showing off the welt on his head in great pride, while Jorge was in the back crying and shaking uncontrollably. I would have liked to see Wells run up on A-riod [sic] with a bat and just crack him in the back of the knee. Two problems solved, no more A-roid, and no more Wells. There's always tomorrow...."

- AE, commenter at Drunk Jays Fans

UPDATE: The lovely and talented Joanna from Hum and Chuck has video up of the fight. Go and relive it. In all its glory.

Deep Thoughts: FML

I gave Argentinian Juan Martin del Potro zero chance of defeating Roger Federer. I figured Federer, owner of the U.S. Open, would take the final in straight sets.

When I think of Federer, I think of the saying: "the relentless pursuit of perfection." And I want him not to deviate from that path. I want him to be perfect. I want him to be, without a doubt, the best tennis player to have ever played the game. While in every other scenario as a fan I cheer for the underdog, I find it impossible not to root for Roger Federer. It shouldn't, and it sounds rather juvenile, but it sucks when he loses.

Here's hoping he takes the Aussie. Greatest Tennis Player of All-Time. GTPAT ...

You can add last night's ridiculous Buffalo Bills vs. New England Patriots Monday nighter to the list of Bills-related nightmares I suffer from. Some night's it's Scott Norwood's "wide right." Other nights, Troy Aikman. Sometimes Emmitt Smith makes an appearance. One of the worst is a trip down "Music City Miracle" lane. Even the 2007 Monday night epic failure at home to Dallas stings in ways it probably shouldn't.

It's amazing how many different ways the Bills have found to kick their collective fan base in the nuts. And each time hurts just as much, if not more, than the one before it.

Growing up, a young eyebleaf and his older brother became Bills supporters because two of our best friends (the same age as big bro and I, and our respective tennis doubles partners) had family in Buffalo, and were fans by proxy. Without a home team to cheer for (sorry Boatmen), we hopped along for the ride. Who knew it would be so tragic?

Thankfully those four Super Bowl losses happened when I was nine through 12 years old. Little time, and emotion, had been invested then. Imagine, now, watching the Toronto Maple Leafs lose four straight times in the Stanley Cup Final? I'm not sure I'd ever recover.

There aren't many people in this world whom I'd wish Buffalo Bills fandom upon. It's not the best way to live. I hate you today, Leodis McKelvin. And you too, Tom Brady ...

The Toronto Blue Jays. Those bastards. Unfortunately, they're still playing. And you knew you could count on them to blow a 5-2 lead, and add to an already miserable Monday night.

You know why people are sick to death of this team? You know why nobody is showing up at the SkyDome? Because Brian Wolfe has pitched 12.1 innings this season, while Jeremy Accardo has pitched only six and two-thirds more. That's bullshit, plain and simple. And there is no excuse. There can't be for not be fielding the best possible team, night in and night out.

Errors be damned, Marco Scutaro is still the man. Yeah, he fucked up last night. Yeah, his .770 August OPS and .598 September OPS aren't exactly worthy of phone calls home. But he'll have to mail it in a lot worse than that for me to start taking away from what he's been able to accomplish in 2009.

The Blue Jays cannot play out the stretch soon enough. If you're not depressed enough, read the most recent from Jeff Blair.

I don't know about you, but I'm doing my best to forget this season ever happened. I'm looking towards the future. Stay tuned, either late today, or Wednesday morning, for a Q&A between 2009 Blue Jays third-round draft pick Jake Marisnick and the few, the proud, the Blue Jays blogosphere.

I don't get it ...

I turned 27 yesterday. I'm at that point in my life where I'm grappling, rather unsuccessfully, with life's bigger questions. Will the Toronto Blue Jays make the playoffs again? Will the Toronto Maple Leafs win the Stanley Cup during my lifetime? One question gnaws at my very being: why don't kids curve the brims of their hats? Perhaps I'm getting old. Perhaps I'm out of touch with high fashion. But this one flies right over my head.

I've always been a hat guy. When my older brother told me, upon entering high school, that hats could be worn in the halls, and in class, I knew that high school was where I wanted to be. Forever. I was the moron who took his grade nine and grade 10 yearbook photos wearing a ballcap.

I wore Seattle Mariners, Houston Astros, Colorado Avalanche, Toronto Maple Leafs, Nike, and, yes, even New York Yankees hats. I was young. Impressionable. I wish I could say I was experimenting with heavy drugs when I donned Yankee blue, but I've got no excuse. I find comfort in the fact that I wear Blue Jays colours, and only Blue Jays colours, now, in adulthood.

My point is, no matter what logo I rocked, the brim was curved. Always. I was known as the best brim curver in the land. Children marveled at the epicly curved brims on my hats. And that was before I discovered the Perfect Curve, which became my androstenedione. While my skills were on the decline, all I had to do was spend $4.50 USD and have my work done for me.

I missed the memo. I had to have. Because I just don't get it. I can't comprehend the flatness. I can't wrap my head around the flamboyant, over-the-top designs. It ain't right.

Look, I've been there. I wore the oversized clothes. My pants weren't falling off my ass, but sure, they were riding lower than they probably should have been. And I'll be the first to admit that, to this day, I wear my hat very slightly cocked to the side. I can't explain it. It just happened. You can take me out of Scarborough, but you can't take Scarborough out of me. But the brim remains, as it always has been, curved. As it is rightfully meant to be.

Less is more. For the love of God, take the tags and stickers off your hat. You're supposed to. And curve the brim. It's the way God wanted your hat to be.