This picture is apropos of absolutely nothing. However, I really like it. So there.

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This past Sunday, I met my father at Best Buy to help him do his Christmas shopping. I do this every year; it's become sort of a tradition. The only thing somewhat different this year was that my younger brother Ryan decided he would accompany us.

So we go to Best Buy, pick out a laptop for my mother, pick out a camera for Ryan's girlfriend, pick out a couple Wii games for my cousin's youngest son. A good haul, really. We stopped for breakfast, then headed into the mall for further shopping. Ryan wanted to buy his girlfriend a bracelet, so we headed for the highest concentration of jewelry stores and stores who sell jewelry in the area.

At the mall, we happened upon something really interesting. It was a virtual batting cage, with a hollow plastic bat and a big video screen where the pitcher would appear. For some odd reason, going into this batting cage suddenly seemed like the best idea in the world, so Ryan and I decided we would take a shot. At this point, we both discovered neither of us had even a single one dollar bill; I had two twenties and Ryan had a wad of tens and twenties to do his shopping with. So my father digs out his wallet and hands us both a dollar.

Ryan goes first. The virtual pitcher throws ten pitches for a dollar, and you swing the bat as the ball should be crossing the plate. Simple, right? So Ryan stands in, hits the practice pitch out to right-center, then digs in for the real stuff. Of the ten pitches, he puts four over the wall and comes up with a total distance of a little over 3000 feet for all ten.

It's my turn next, so I step in, put in the dollar I got from my dad, and sidle up to the plate from the left side. I taught myself to switch-hit at a very young age (no jokes, now), and was always a much better hitter from the left. The pitcher winds up, throws the practice pitch, and I take a cut. Nothing. Okay, I think, I was clearly a little early. I've got this.

Of the ten pitches thrown, I hit zero home runs, swung and missed four times, and amassed a total distance of just over 1200 feet. Here's the thing about this: I am, far and away, the more athletically inclined of my brother and I. I have spent the majority of my life playing baseball in at least some casual fashion, and, with no false modesty, am reasonably good at it. I've always been better on the mound than at the plate, but I'm really no slouch with the bat either.

So at this point I've turned rather red, due to the fact a large number of people have stopped on their way by to check out the video batting game which has humiliated the man standing inside. I try to leave, but my father insists we try it again. I'm resisting with all my might, but something about being beaten at my own damned game by my little brother is far too grating, and I acquiesce to another round. Dad digs out another two dollars, hands one to me and one to Ryan. Rather than leave the batting cage and risk losing the feel and the groove I was settling into, I turn right around and go again, ignoring the protests of the younger Schafer brother.

This time I decide to bat from the right side. That's probably the problem, I say to myself, I swing a golf club right-handed, and I've played golf several times since I picked up a bat. My lefty swing is just all out of whack. Armed thusly with impregnable and not at all fuzzy logic, I ready myself to demolish my 32-bit tormentor.

I miss the practice pitch, again. I miss the first pitch. I miss the second. The third I make contact with and hit a soft liner to approximately Ronnie Belliard's spot on the field. Now I'm really starting to get upset, the crowd has grown just enough to convince me I'll soon look down and realise I'm in my underwear, and, most shameful of all, I've started to do that thing where in order to fend off the sting of failure you start describing just exactly what was wrong with each failed attempt in a voice loud enough so everyone can hear that yes, you might be failing, but you totally know what the problem is and will totally get it straightened out really soon. I'm not sure why, but loudly describing why you failed functions as a remarkably good blanket against the slings and arrows of your own ego.

Fourth pitch, pop fly to left. Too early, damnit!

Fifth pitch, swing and a miss. Okay, too late on that one. Alright.

Sixth pitch, grounder up the middle. See, now the timing's better, but I'm not sure where I'm supposed to be swinging.

Seventh, another swing and a miss, and I'm verging on blaming the game now. I turn to my brother and question him, whether I was early or late or what. I mean, I just can't tell, I say, trying to draw someone into an empathic bond with my own misery.

Eight pitch, and I make good contact. The ball flies toward the center field wall, long and straight and high and true, only to fall a foot or two short of the seats. Now I've got it, I confidently say to myself, that was much better. The crowd seems less impressed than I apparently am.

Ninth pitch, a weak fly to right. I try to think of something to say, but am unable. I settle for an exasperated, exaggerated sigh, hoping someone will be impressed with my good humour in the face of such abject humiliation.

The last pitch comes, and I take a half-hearted little swing and the ball shoots into the left field stands with roughly the exit velocity of a howitzer shell. I should laugh at this, but I'm just too pissed off. The game congratulates me and gives me a bonus pitch. I suddenly get very excited, take perhaps the largest swing I've ever taken on the bonus pitch, and miss it completely. I slump out of the cage, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

My brother steps back in, and as I watch him, I'm struck by how slowly he's swinging the bat. The pitch comes in, and he sort of just waves the bat gently over the plate and watches as it disappears into the distance. Of his ten pitches this time around, he puts seven in the seats, with the aid of one bonus pitch. His total distance is well over 4000 feet.

 I think I've finally figured out the way the game works; Ryan was swinging very easily and crushing the ball, while I was taking actual swings like I was playing a real game of of baseball and consistently getting nowhere fast. It must be something with the way the game senses the bat, and my full, fast swings weren't registering properly.

I turn to my father, and just as I open my mouth ask for another dollar, I'm suddenly struck by what's actually happening. Here I am, a man going on 30 years old, who has lived an often hard and occasionally ugly life, standing in a mall and asking his father for another dollar to try and finally beat his brother at a video game. I have a mortgage and two cats and life insurance, and yet I've turned back into the same kid I was at thirteen, begging my mother for more quarters at Xhilirama because one of the older kids kept kicking my ass on Killer Instinct.

Was this sudden onset of youth a Christmas miracle? No. No it was not. But it was kind of fun, pumping money into a baseball video game in the middle of a sea of humanity. There may or may not be a meaning to be found here; make of it whatever you like.

We ended up stopping at two games, the dinger count 11-1 in favour of my brother. My dad was out of ones, and when he offered to go and get change for a five, I decided I had had enough of being a tweener for one day. We finished up our shopping and each went our separate ways, Ryan mercilessly jabbing me with reminders of his victory as we went.

I had another story I was going to tell this morning, something a bit more like me (you know, Bummerman), but I believe I'll put that one up at my other gig on Thursday. Try to give the Rundown a proper sendoff, if I can. (As of the first of the year, the Rundown will be no more. I've been asked to stay on and write just as part of the Daily RFT, focusing on sports, and so I'm trying to keep an optimistic mindset. I won't lie to you, though; my failure to build a better following is weighing rather heavily  on me at the moment.) So I decided to do something a bit lighter here this morning.

That being said, I have a bit of free time today, so let's do a holiday chat. Festivus if you like, Christmas or Hannukah if you prefer. We can talk about whatever you like, be it baseball or booze or Bonanza. Actually, scratch that. I hate Bonanza. Pretty much anything else is fair game, though.

Um, I think Jocketty is the one on the left.

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I decided I'm going to try and do these in order from best to worst in the division; unfortunately, that now means I have to try and come up with preseason predictions before the offseason is even half over. Not a great idea on my part, really; I should have done them in alphabetical order or something. Oh, well. Too late for such considerations now, I suppose.

Of all the teams in the Central, perhaps none is so enigmatic as the Cincinnati Reds. Every spring for god knows how many  years now we've heard the constant refrain, "Look out for the Reds this year. This is the year they finally turn that corner." Now, to be fair, we hear much the same thing about the Pirates, but predictions of Pittsburgh's rise are always couched not in terms of contention, but in terms of near-winning baseball. Thus, even as the predictions are made, our natural inclination toward Piratic indifference kicks in. The Reds, on the other hand, are a different story.

See, the thing about the Reds is this: they have some really, really good players. Players I would love to have on my team. They stole Brandon Phillips from their in-state rivals just a couple offseasons back, right from under the Cards' noses, even as Junior Spivey was busily reminding us not all reclamation projects end up reclaiming anything. Sometimes the ship stays sunk. (By the by, I'm proud to say I was one of the people hoping and advocating for the Cards to bring in Phillips. Sadly, our voices were not heard.) The Reds have some outstanding young arms. Their closer is one of the better ones in the business. (Still not worth his contract, but that's another issue entirely.) The right fielder is the guy the Cardinals really wanted in 2005; they chose Colby Rasmus specifically because he was the most similar player to Jay Bruce in the draft. There is some real talent here.

Yet somehow, year after year, those cries which warn us of the approaching Cincinnati domination always turn out to be wrong. Every year the Reds find some way not to win. It's gotten to the point I almost fear the offseason when no one cautions against the Reds; perhaps the spell will then be broken and this long-benighted franchise will step fully into the light. Or, perhaps not.

Either way, a little insurance can't possibly be a bad thing.

This is the year, folks. Watch out for the Reds.

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Sure, I've used it before. It's a good picture, damn it.

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 But first, a story. (Just so you know it's a Baron post.)

Last weekend, my mother and I went shopping. The Cherokee Street Antique Row Association was holding their annual Cookie Spree, and we go every year. There's always people milling around, free hot apple cider, and most of the shops are decorated.

We met up in South County, deciding it was a better idea to take one car. Mom tends to get motion sickness when not driving, so I generally just ride with her. We headed up 55 toward the city, then exited at the 4500 block of Broadway.

At the bottom of the ramp was an old woman holding a sign. A square of cardboard scrawled all over in black marker, I couldn't read exactly what was written but the message was clear nonetheless. It was cold out, and the ragged old overcoat she was clutching around her looked woefully inadequate. I've been conned before, I'm sure, but this was no panhandler. This was an old woman with no place to go who badly needed help.

We came to a stop at the bottom of the ramp, and I dug out my wallet. Mom reached for her purse, and I told her I would get it. I opened my wallet and grabbed the first two bills in it, a ten and a twenty. Then, guided by some internal calculus I don't at all understand, I put the ten back. I handed my mother the twenty, she motioned the old woman over, and gave it to her. The old woman said something, toothless mouth moving quickly, blessing us and wishing us well, but by then the car was moving and I couldn't entirely tell what it was. We continued on our way, had hot chocolate and apple cider and cookies. I bought an antique light fixture; it seemed like a fine day.

I tell you all this not to make you think I'm some sort of saint for giving this old woman twenty dollars, but because ever since then I haven't been able to stop thinking about the ten dollars I didn't give her. I had almost $300 in my wallet that day, and a credit card nowhere near the limit to boot. In no way, shape, or form would that extra ten dollars have hurt me, yet I put it back. And worst of all, I don't understand why. I like to think I would do whatever it takes to help someone in need, but apparently that only goes so far. Apparently there's a price on my generosity, and it's painfully low. A truly good person would have been willing to hand over everything they had in hand and never thought twice about it; I certainly didn't need another antique to litter my already cluttered house.

We went back the same way later, on the way back to my car, but the old woman was gone. I hope what I gave her was enough to help, but I can't stop thinking about that moment, when I arbitrarily decided the limits of how much I was willing to help another human being.

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More photos » by Tom Gannam - AP

17 days ago: Former St. Louis Cardinals manager Whitey Herzog talks with the media at a news conference to announce his selection to the Baseball Hall of Fame by the veterans committee, Monday, Dec. 7, 2009, in St. Louis.(AP Photo/Tom Gannam)

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Hey, guys. Sorry to do this to everyone, but I'm going to have to just put this up as an open thread. My dad's brother, in town to visit my grandfather, started having chest pains this morning. He's in the hospital at the moment undergoing a bypass operation, so I'm stuck here at the hospital for the moment, and just don't have the time or opportunity to post something more substantial. Blurgh.

I do apologise for the lack of anything better, but I hope you'll understand. Take care until I see you again.

-Aaron

See, so we've got a thread lamenting the penny headline puns, then a thread with a penny headline pun. We're so very meta here at VEB...

So anything you guys want to talk about, go ahead. The other thread was getting slow.

Also, just to toss this in here, the meanest thing I ever said to anyone was once when I was talking to an ex-girlfriend of mine who was about six months pregnant at the time. (Not mine, by the way.) I started calling here Pregnatron, and after the third time she asked why. I told her it was because she was transforming into a giant, swollen bitch. I feel bad and proud in equal measures when I think about that. How about you?

Enjoy.

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Hello, everyone. I hope this Wednesday finds you all well.

I decided to put off beginning my look around the NL Central series again this week, seeing as how there is actual, somewhat interesting news to discuss, so it'll just have to wait. The arbitration offers are in, and the Cardinals made offers to three of their four compensation-eligible players. Holliday, Jo-El Pineiro, and Mark DeRosa received offers, while the Cards declined to offer it to Troy Glaus.

I can't really find fault with declining to offer Glaus arbitration, as he's basically a more extreme version of Braden Looper last year. Looper, you'll recall, was eligible to be a Type B free agent, and the Cardinals decided not to make an offer to him and forfeit the draft pick. There was much consternation at the time over the lost draft pick, but at the same time, one couldn't ignore the risk of Looper accepting the arby offer and the Cards being hung with a pitcher they neither particularly wanted nor, to be completely frank, had the space to hold on to. The rest of the story, of course, is Looper went and signed himself a deal with Milwaukee as they attempt to construct some sort of Frankenstein situation composed entirely of former Cardinals mid-rotation starters. Looper then proceeded to have himself a rather awful year, complete with an ERA+ of 77. (Of course, he somehow also managed to go 14-7, so draw your own conclusions.)

As for Glaus, he seems to be all the downside of Looper, but with almost none of the upside. Glaus is on the wrong side of 30, so it isn't as if he's getting better, his health is still a significant concern, and he was frankly less than impressive in the modest number of late-season plate appearances he managed in 2009. If an arby offer had been floated to Glaus, I have absolutely no doubt he would have accepted, and that would not have been a good thing. At this point, I'm not sure he's going to be able to play third base on an everyday basis due to his shoulder problems, and the Cardinals have no need of a right-handed 1B/PH making $5 million+ a year.

On the other hand, I don't think there's any chance in hell of any of the other three accepting their offers. Holliday we know about, and he'll be playing the field for quite a while still before landing in Boston. This is likely the last chance for either Pineiro or DeRosa to land a sizable, multi-year deal, and I have to think both will take advantage of the situation. I suppose there's always the chance Mark of the Rose accepts, looking at it as a one year deal to prove his wrist is sound and he's worth one last three year hurrah somewhere, but I would be a bit surprised. Even if he did go that way, having DeRosa back on one year deal for middling money wouldn't be a bad outcome at all. The dollars aren't really the issue here anyway. The real issue is one would prefer not to offer 34 year old players three year deals if it can be avoided, and arbitration does so quite nicely.

Pineiro will get his money somewhere, and he's welcome to it. We'll always have New York, Jo-El. Thanks for the memories. Also, could I get an autograph? I want the caption to read, "Moar sinkers, men, and into the breach we go! Love, El Pinata." That would be sweet.

All in all, I think the whole arby thing played out about how most of us expected. The Cards made offers to the three players they felt they can trust to refuse it or be worth the deal if accepted, and declined the one player likely to accept and be a drain on resources in 2010. Sometimes the simplest solution is the best and all that.

So how about it, Birdos? Any thoughts on the arbitration situation? I feel bad, because it's probably already been covered somewhere around here, but I had a radiator hose in my car split on me, so I've been dealing with that this morning and got an even later start than usual on this.  In hindsight, I should have just gone ahead and put up the Cubs piece early, since it's already done, but I wanted to at least maintain the illusion I'm paying attention.

The Baron's Playlist for the 2nd of December, 2009

"Cuddly Toy" - Harry Nilsson

"Little Secrets" - Passion Pit

"Jacqueline" - The Coral

"Minnie the Moocher" - Cab Calloway

"Somebody Else" - Kubb

More photos » by Tom Gannam - AP

Shortly after this photo was taken, the Albert Pujols press conference got real real. (AP Photo/Tom Gannam)

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Yesterday I decided to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I dragged out my mixer, washed off the dust which had accumulated since its last annual appearance in my house, and began laying out ingredients. I then discovered, to my horror, I didn't have enough flour to make the cookies. So I headed to the grocery store, bought flour, came home, and proceeded to make cookies. Sadly, I had neglected to check the rest of the ingredient list before I left the first time, and now found myself sans pecans. I didn't feel like driving to the store again, so I made the cookies without nuts, and I have to say, they sort of suck.

There are two morals to this story. One, you should always check everything on a list before going to the store, and two, sometimes no matter how hard you try the best you're going to do is suck. I think those are both good lessons.

******

I had a full post all ready to go for this morning, even typed it up in Word and everything the other day. I was planning on starting a multi-part series covering all the teams in the National League Central and what their offseasons should, could, and most likely will, look like. However, I learned my lesson a couple years back with a very involved Thanksgiving post: avoid putting the really big stuff up on or around a holiday.

If you've spent more than 20 minutes researching something, you don't want it to get lost in the shuffle of people just checking the site in between traveling and cooking and trying to remember which of their aunt's former husbands they aren't supposed to bring up this year. No, just stick with the wistful, sad, and occasionally off-putting short stories of alienation and loneliness, and you're golden. Again, I think this is an excellent lesson.

I bring you, for your reading pleasure, the Thanksgiving posts of Viva El Birdos past:

The First Thanksgiving - Okay, so that isn't what it's called, nor what it's about, but I like to think of it that way. A blast from the past, all the way back in the waning moment of 2005.

thanksgiving open thread, Lb style- Nineteen comments. Seriously. We've come a long way, baby.

Holiday Wishes. Tidbits. The Draft, two. - My first Thanksgiving post (and source of the lesson I referenced just above), and part of a big series I did about past drafts. Also, I was still doing that weird title thing from my early days when I was just stating what was contained in the post, separated by periods. Not sure why.

Thanks.- My post from last year, in which I learned the previous year's lesson and just got real sad, rather than research anything baseballish. It's kinda my thing.

I am Thankful for... - Chuckb's actual Thanksgiving Day post last year. I wouldn't have done something holiday related if I had realised he wasn't going to take the day off. Interesting to read his thoughts regarding Albert's second MVP award in light of the way his third played out.

*****

A bit of housekeeping: VEB now has an official Twitter feed; twitter.com/@thebirdos be the address. Apparently, someone already has @vivaelbirdos, but it isn't any of us. I, of course, will not be using the Twitter feed much; I can't say good morning in less than 600 characters. (And now that I pull up the page to check the address is correct, I see Dan has already made the same joke. I've become predictable. Hmph. Wake me when I get to kitsch.)

*****

This here's gonna be one of them open thread things; feel free to talk about whatever. Things you're thankful for, the awesomeness of Albert or Carp or A.D.A.M., favourite holiday meals, whatever. I'll be sitting here on my sofa drinking this delicious apple cider I just cooked up for an hour or so (and I hope whatever you're doing you can be so content as I am at this moment), so if anyone's around we can do sort of a half-assed chat if you like.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, and I hope the holiday treats you well. Be careful if you're traveling, be kind to those you love, and take a bit of time to tell them the same.

The Baron's Playlist for the 25th of November, 2009: The Early Christmas Kickoff List

"Fairytale of New York" - The Pogues

"O Tanenbaum" - Vince Guaraldi Trio

"A Change at Christmas (Say it isn't So)" - the Flaming Lips

"Christmas At the Zoo" - the Flaming Lips

"I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" - Gayla Peevey

"Peace on Earth/ Little Drummer Boy" - David Bowie and Bing Crosby

And yes, for the record, I am ashamed of making a Christmas playlist the day before Thanksgiving, but there just aren't many Thanksgiving songs, never mind good ones. Hell, even trying to build a list around songs with "Thanks" featured prominently was a bitch. Unless, of course, you wanted me to resort to that awful Alanis Morissette song. (Oh, and I'll warn you now: at some point in the coming weeks, I'll make up a full album-sized playlist of all my favourite Christmas songs. It's going to be ever so irritating.)

Ferris wheels still cheer me up.

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I'm sitting in my living room staring out on a grey and very nasty November morning. Ordinarily, I welcome such inclement weather; I usually love the rain and the clouds and the cold whistling wind. However, I have an awful day ahead of me, including a trip to traffic court in Webster Groves this evening, and I just can't bring myself to work up any sort of real cheer.

This past weekend I went to see a movie at the St. Louis Film Festival with a friend of mine named Alex. (By the way, huge plug for the Festival; if you've never been, go and buy a ticket to something. Doesn't matter what. Just go and see something you wouldn't ordinarily see. I promise it will be a good experience.) Alex is a girl, and a remarkably pretty one at that. She's also most likely reading this, as she thinks the things I write are funny (even when they aren't meant to be), which makes what I'm about to dwell on potentially uncomfortable, but I don't particularly care.

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More photos » AP

Whitey Herzog will be on the ballot for the Hall of Fame this winter. I ignored this bit of news in favour of complete rambling nonsense.

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So just say for a second you were the General Manager of a major league baseball team, and you've got a rather substantial amount of money to spend. Say also, while we're hypotheticizing here, that you are facing a truly awful free agent class. Okay. Got it? Now, say your name is, um, Ron Fobaylock. So here you are, Mr. Fobaylock, with more money to spend than you've ever had up to this point in your tenure as a GM, and just look at the detritus you have to choose from! So, what would you do?

Such is the conundrum faced by Johnny Mo this offseason. Sure, he's got the money, but what's he going to spend it on? We've all seen the lists of free agents by now, and let's face it: what the Cardinals need, there just ain't a whole lot of out there. The Cards need a left fielder, and there are three really attractive options: Matt Holliday, Jason Bay, and Mike Cameron. Unfortunately, all three have issues. It's looking less and less likely Holliday has any interest in playing for anything less than a stupid contract. Bay will almost assuredly sign before Holliday, as Scott Boras will want Bay to help set a market for his client. Cameron would seem to be a great fit, but it's also possible he may prefer to go somewhere as a full-time center fielder. It certainly isn't a stretch to believe the Cards might come away without any of the three. And then what? Sorry, but Xavier Nady and his bionic elbow doesn't interest me, and Johnny Damon just isn't worth the draft pick.

The story is much the same at third base, the other main position of need for El Birdos. Mark DeRosa is a known quantity, but on the other hand, Mark DeRosa is a known quantity. Adrian Beltre has a nice glove, but his bat is questionable and his price tag much the same. Troy Glaus brings power and should come cheap, but with a body composed mostly of old newspapers and sadness it's tough to say how durable he'll be.

So what's a GM, whether hypothetical or real, to do? How does one improve a team when the options seem so very limited? Well, one looks elsewhere, of course. And when one looks elsewhere to improve the 2010 Cardinals over the 2009 version, another area of concern begins to whisper its weakness. I speak, of course, of the bullpen.

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I didn't really realise it last week, but just the other day it sort of hit me when I looked at the date: I just celebrated two years of writing for this wonderful site. My very first front page post was on Halloween of 2007, and seeing as how we are now in the glorious month of November in Year of Our Lord 2009, that's two damned years I've been cluttering up the interwebs with my peculiar ramblings. And so, seeing as how I am the sort of person who simply cannot resist nostalgia or making lists of things, I thought I would go back through all the things I've written here at VEB and pick out my favourites. It also doesn't hurt, of course, that very little is actually going on in Cardinal land at this particular moment.

 So I started rolling back through all my past posts, and something began to become apparent as I did: I'm sort of a depressing dude. Most of my stuff I think is really pretty good tends to be of the wistful, sad, and slightly bitter emotive variety. Don't get me wrong; the idea I am a bit of a bummer is not exactly news to me, as people have been telling me that my whole life. However, it was a bit surprising to see the proof staring me so clearly in the face.

Regardless, I am proud to bring you my personal Best Of collection out of sheer arrogance and hubris. (And also maybe a little because I was interested to see if I've gotten any better at this, but mostly the gigantic ego thing.) In reverse chronological order (I think):

• Reflection -- recent post about the end of our season
• Talk Talk Talk-- the very first chat I tried
• Drafting a Masterpiece-- reviewing the first day of the 2009 draft
• Swingin', and Not Just Dick-- there is, in fact, a toaster involved in this post
• Life Lenses-- in which I discuss the departure of Adam Kennedy
• God Bless Us, Every One -- Christmas 2008
• The Team Stripped Bare By Its Suitors, Even-- an interesting hypothetical, and my favourite title
• Good Bye, Halcyon Days -- mourning for last summer, and my second favourite title
• Not With a Bang, but a Whimper-- Jason Isringhausen
• Saturday Morning Coming Down-- a discussion of Mark McGwire and me forgetting how to spell the word rhythm

And, just for funsies, my first main page story, and the very first diary I ever put up here.

Hopefully you don't find this too very self-indulgent, though I'm certain it probably is.

As for the current news of the day:

I am of the belief the Yankees' strategy of using only three pitchers and throwing them on short rest is going to backfire on them. We already saw A.J. Burnett get crushed pitching on three days' rest, and I'm honestly expecting something similar from Pettitte tonight. I still expect the Yankees to win in seven, because I do believe CC Sabathia will roll pretty much no matter what and Cole Hamels seems a bit lost in the wilderness to me, but I also think New York has made the series much tougher than it needed to be. Historically we can see pitchers tend to struggle on short rest, regardless of the era in question (relatively speaking, of course; if a pitcher is usually going on three days' rest, then two days' rest hurts hime), and I think Girardi has weakened his team's position unnecessarily. What do all of you think? I know this concept of only needing three starters in the playoffs has been Fritz' pet peeve for a while now; we now get to see just how viable such a strategy really is.

I don't much care for the Iwamura deal from the Pirates' side of things; it just seems like they're still treading water. Dave Cameron disagrees with me, for whatever it's worth.(I also forgot Jack Wilson got traded to the Mariners; the perils of writing in a hurry, you know.)  I do wish like hell whoever it was who started stumping for Ben Zobrist a couple years ago had more pull with the front office; the guy could have been had for a song as recently as last season, now he has to be considered untouchable. Interestingly enough, VEB has been right in wanting to acquire both Jayson Werth and Zobrist at various points in time before they broke out.  I know there were some here last year (myself included), who would have liked to see Johnny Mo try to pick up Huston Street on the cheap while he was struggling. I remember the advocacy of several posters (again, myself included), for a deal that would have brought Cliff Lee to the Cards after his disastrous 2007 campaign. (In fact, Lee was one of my personal crusades that offseason.) I believe the idea was to move Scott Rolen for Lee and possibly try to get Jhonny Peralta involved somehow with other inducements going from St. Louis to Cleveland. I was a big fan of Carlos Quentin, and I know jillsinmo (who seems to have largely disappeared, sadly), stumped for him for awhile as well. My point? If you happen to work in the Cardinals' front office and are reading this (and I know you guys are), you may want to take a good hard look at any buy-low guys we come up with this offseason. Our track record is remarkably good.

Of course, if you had listened to us last year, we might very well have signed Ben Sheets for a lost season, so at least make sure you look at the X-rays first.

My predicition, guaranteed to be right, for Game 6 tonight: Phillies 7, Yankees 3. Pedro goes 5 inning, giving up 2 runs on 6 hits and a walk. JA Happ relieves him and holds the Yankees down. Pettitte gets knocked around, failing to get out of the third inning and giving up 5 runs.

Have a lovely day, everyone.

The Baron's Playlist for the 4th of November, 2009

"Lovelier Girl" -- Beach House

"Jesus Walking on the Water" -- Violent Femmes

"Mr. Tough" -- Yo La Tengo

"Pale Blue Eyes" -- The Velvet Underground

"These Days" -- Nico