1. The time Ken Griffey Jr. hit the warehouse at Camden, featuring a wee Prince Fielder.

    (Source: youtube.com)

  2. Today, I rode my bike as fast as I could. I broke the law. At Yonge and Dundas, the most obvious and stupid of places to saunter past a red. The pedestrian lane was packed with jaywalkers, an inherently Canadian rite. Tag along, wheels for legs.

    During this thrashing of lactic acid and expendable carbs, I listened to it. The 6th and 7th were workmanlike. Head down. Ignore peripherals. Just… go.

    I’ve spent years following this man through and through. Another 1-0 loss. The middling Chone Figgins. An offense worthy of a bucket of gruel at 5 a.m. to atone for its inability to become offensive. The late nights of knee-bucking destruction. Alone. I’ve seen it dozens of times in low leverage situations. A terrible Monday night game with no relevance with the filthiest stuff you could ever dream of. Stay up too late to see something special. Today was different. Today, it wasn’t a fight against mere sleep. It was slicing through the downtown swarth of angry cabs and inconsiderate Chinatown bicycles. Near death was invited for a glimpse of what I’d visualized for years. Hope.

    The 8th though.. that 8th. World class domination. After Longo was wrung up by a demonic gravity-embracing curveball, it was within grasp. Zobrist looked lost all day and Carlos Pena is no more than Pedro Cerrano in a future day, unbuttoned and terrible, clothed in Raays (sp) and a blushing .192/.322/.345 embarrassment to professional baseball. There was no hope. The Rays are a mirage of baseball, an indescribable machine of sveldt payroll and 2ish% of heart able to feign the impossible AL East.

    No, this. This. A culmination of what is possible. Hearing about a royal 17-year old 10 years ago maturing to this next level of expectation. Ignoring messages to focus on this. Ignoring personal safety to be a part of something grand. This is the human condition we pine for. A moment of unadulterated joy. The acknowledgement of success.

    Perfection. 

  3. (via 1956 Baseball Team Mascots)

    (via 1956 Baseball Team Mascots)

  4. eiknarf:

U_U (Taken with instagram)

The 1% of custom jerseys (because they’re actually witty).

    eiknarf:

    U_U (Taken with instagram)

    The 1% of custom jerseys (because they’re actually witty).

  5. OMFG. The modern Solid Potato Salad.

  6. Meme ahoy. 
(via Hellas: Land Of The Amazing Soccerface)

    Meme ahoy. 

    (via Hellas: Land Of The Amazing Soccerface)

  7. (via futuremilk)

    (via futuremilk)

  8. New Era takes Craig Robinson (The Office) & Nick Offerman (Parks & Recreation) and places them in a bar.

  9. From MLB’s Japanese Opening Day (one of three?). The beer providers carry a keg in their backpack. Clearly, they’re doing something right.

    From MLB’s Japanese Opening Day (one of three?). The beer providers carry a keg in their backpack. Clearly, they’re doing something right.

  10. Low and outside was the only way to pitch the Splendid Splinter.
via @si_vault

    Low and outside was the only way to pitch the Splendid Splinter.

    via @si_vault

  11. Name names.

    Name names.

  12. Fourteen sketches of Major League ballparks by Gene Mack for The Sporting News, 1946-47. What ever happened to this sort of editorial cartooning? So, so great.

  13. Here you go, McDs. A free idea.

    Kevin Durant v. Derrick Rose, a la Jordan/Bird. Nothing but net.

    If you were to name the best basketballers on our planet, selecting the Windy City Assassin would be a solid, if not proper, bet.

    Derrick Rose slowing down time, readjusting, centering his frame, cold blooded buzzer beater. Ice. Cold.

    (via SB Nation)

  14. Stuck or moved.
(via RichieSwims)

    Stuck or moved.

    (via RichieSwims)

  15. Four pounds of distraction in convenient mobile form. #nerdporn

    Four pounds of distraction in convenient mobile form. #nerdporn