Archive for the ‘DJF Guides’ Category

It was around this time last year that we first revisited that magical period in the late eighties when a New Coked up Max Headroom invented the internet with a Commodore Amiga.

Since then, things have spiraled downward to the point where more than a dozen Blue Jays blogs can be found polluting the blogosphere with an unconscionable amount of homerism being spewed out on an unsuspecting public at any given second.

They vary from the unapologetically boring to balls out wrong, but Jays blogs are all stunningly beautiful in their own way. Let’s kick things off with a quick trip through the mainstream media’s attempt at blogging and come right back around to the kids in their parents’ basement because that joke never gets tiresome, right Doug McLean?

Miked Up

We like Mike Wilner. Get over it.

We get a lot of shit from the comments section throughout the season because of our apparent proclivity for wrapping our lips firmly around Wilner’s cock while he writhes vigorously. Very funny, homophobes.

The thing is that no one covering the Jays is as rational and thoughtful when it comes to analysis of the team. While Wilner’s blog isn’t the prettiest to look at, the addition of post game Jays Talk episodes during the season and his willingness to respond to “rational and reasonable” comments and questions make Miked Up a before-you-put-in-your-contacts-in-the-morning read.

Globe On Baseball

Now that Jeff Blair is a big shot general sports columnist challenging Stephen Brunt for column inches at the front of the Globe’s miniscule sports section (quality over quantity), he’s likely to have abandoned the baseball blog that amused us so much over the last couple seasons.

Snappy The Turtle’s withdrawal from the platform for his hilarious bitterness leaves us with former Raptor beat reporter Robert MacLeod. I’ve got nothing bad to say about Bobby Mac’s efforts when it comes to his Jays reporting, but he’s never struck me as a baseball guy, at least not in the same way that Blair, Bob Elliot or even Richard Griffin do.

Minor mistakes in his stories regarding contracts and Minor League versus Major League statistics seem to back this feeling up, but I’ll be nice and chalk it up to him just finding his baseball legs. We’ll look for some more personality and overall improvement from the new #1 Jays guy at The Globe this season. Until then, the jury is still out.

Major League Bastian

Jordan Bastian must go through more money on laptops in a season than Derek Jeter spends on contraceptives. The MLB.com reporter hits the keyboard hard, filing a staggering number of stories on the Blue Jays official site while still finding the time to fill readers in on everything that doesn’t make his numerous columns.

Best of all, every Spring Training, Bastian brings along his P&S camera to bring us even closer to all the camaraderie of the preseason.

As an employee of MLB.com, I’m sure it’s a tedious tight-rope act balancing potentially controversial stories and pleasing your masters by proving the best light possible for the League, but Bastian walks the line with aplomb, never shying away from the tough topics.

The Toronto Star Baseball Blog

Dear Richard Griffin,

I love your work big guy, but I was wondering why you call your weekly mailbag Q&As a blog? I really enjoyed the informal pieces you wrote documenting your experience in Vegas during the Winter Meetings. You actually reminded us all of why you cover baseball in the first place. But answering your sycophantic fans with JP Haterade every week gets a little tiresome after a while.

Dustin, DJF Nation

Dear Dustin,

I’m an incompetent buffoon who likes valuing pitchers for their wins and valuing batters for how they got on base or how they moved a runner along. I also used to work for the Expos, and should be a Major League GM.

J.P. Ricciardi is the worst thing to happen to baseball

Sincerely,
Richard

Posted Sports

This does indeed exist. I mean, the National Post. I’ve visited the site and I’m still not sure if they actually have a blog.

Rogers Sportsnet

I’m not sure how Rogers Sportsnet differentiates between a blog and a column, but Jamie Campbell is a blogger and Scott Carson is a columnist. I think they’re both boring pieces of shit.

As the season begins, Sportsnet will probably find a member of the team to write irregularly about being in the Major Leagues. It will be heavily promoted through Google Ads, and it will be riddled with boring clichés.

TSN – Double Play

I once stayed up all the way past midnight. It was almost as wild as the time I put both mayonnaise and mustard on a cold meat sandwich. I didn’t even wash the knife off, either. Vanilla is a spice too, you know.

Drunk Jays Fans

This shit jumped the shark sometime around July of last year, but at least the comment sections are always top notch.

The Tao Of Stieb

Imagine if you will, a wildly amusing blog. Then imagine that favourite DJF commenter, The Ack, starts writing weekend posts for it. Then imagine that you finally get over The Tao’s use of the first person plural.

Then imagine that you don’t have to imagine that any more because it’s actually happening and your dick is so hard that it’s fucking breathing fire. Literally. A stream of fire is coming out of your dick like it’s some sort of dragon.

Chicks dig that shit, and I dig The Tao of Stieb.

Batter’s Box

There’s a whole community of Jays fans out there that DJF doesn’t really serve. I’m glad they have a place to go to get information on players in the low minors and play little games with the names of former Major Leaguers.

I’m glad because anytime I start to feel like a nerd looking up splits for Matt Holliday, I can visit their site and rest assured that no matter how low I sink, I’ll still be better off than them.

The Mockingbird

It’s easy to dismiss The Mockingbird as nothing more than the site that posts those amazing Pitch FX graphs. It’s also pretty easy to shove your head way up your fucking ass, apparently.

Jon Hale consistently offers creative, yet critical thinking through his analysis on the Blue Jays. In those instances where the Blue Jays make a roster move and you and I would go, “That was fucking useless” and let our analysis rest with that, Hale will scour the stats and actually use his mind to tell us why it was fucking useless.

The perfect example of this is the recent signing of the arbitration eligible Jose Bautista. While $2.4 million seems like a lot to spend on a lefty-mashing backup, Hale examines why it’s too much to spend and actually comes up with an alternative that would’ve saved the Jays a couple million dollars.

My only complaint about The Mockingbird is that Hale’s updates are sparse in the offseason. I mean c’mon Hale, Freddy Mercury had AIDS and he carried on.

The Southpaw

I tend to think of The Southpaw as the police of the Jays blogging universe. Or maybe just a much more tolerable version of Batter’s Box.

You want to make an unsubstantiated remark about the usefulness of Jason “I Need A Rest” Frasor? They’ll be on your case faster than a bullet at the Osgoode subway station with more situational statistics than you can shake a stick at.

Aside from keeping us all honest, the Southpaw does an excellent job of giving us impassioned analysis with only the briefest wafts of homerism.

If I was looking for something to complain about, which I am, I’d mention the stringent verbosity that sometimes plagues their posts. Anyone interested in reading a post about the implications of a bad economy on a team’s payroll is likely smart enough to understand a supporting argument without reading it four times with different words.

Ghostrunner On First

My favourite Rocco Baldelli cock suckers on the entire internet, Ghostrunner On First is as funny as DJF used to be, but with far less swears and self-importance. Even though The Score pays us to be friends, I still think these guys are great.

Hum And Chuck

Visiting this site is like going inside a vagina, but without the fun.

I kid. I kid. Joanna is good people.

And it’s adorable that a girl has a blog about baseball in the same way it’s cute when a little kid does a finger painting of a giraffe that looks nothing like a mammal that’s ever walked the earth. It’s like that because women and children are both idiots.

The Blue Jay Hunter

Ian Hunter is a regular commenter on our site, and has been a DJF supporter pretty fucking close to the beginning, so obviously he has great taste and he seems like a nice enough guy. I don’t mean to be a dick to him, but I find his blog a bit gimmicky.

Sometimes gimmicks are awesome and sometimes they suck. Awesome is coming up with failed Jays promotional ideas. Sucking is comparing Jays management to Teddy Ruxpin characters. But whatever. It’s pretty hard to say too much bad about a site that has a clock counting down to the Jays opening day.

Bluebird Banter

I used to really hate this site. Then they got a new writer or they got one of their writers to write more often, and now I just don’t care. So, they’re improving, I guess.

It’s more of a personal thing, but I honestly don’t care about the fifty all-time greatest Jays or playing Guess Who style trivia games on a blog. If that’s your idea of a good time, there’s probably not a better Jays site out there for that stuff.

I’ll give them an emphatic meh.

The Bottom Of The Order

I’ll just give them a meh. And that’s all that six posts since October will get you, lazy asshole. I apologize if you’re merely a Mexican.

Go Jays Go

Hey, look at that. I totally ripped off that picture of Fred McGriff talking softly and carrying his big stick from this blog. This site is pretty good if you’re illiterate, a caveman or suffer from severe mental disabilities.

Bugs & Cranks – Blue Jays

Speaking of malfunctioning mental capacities, we enjoy giving Spencer Kyte from Bugs & Cranks a hard time, but I will say this about our friend from London, Ontario: without question he’s a fucking twat.

That reminds me. When I was like six years old in September of 1986, I remember watching a game on television against the Yankees in which Tom Henke gave up a million runs and the Jays ended up losing a game they should’ve won. My dad went ape goof, swearing at the television, and screaming “Henke, you cunt!” repeatedly.

Finally, my mother interrupted him and said, “Denis! Don’t you dare say that word again in front of my son.”

Denis, still seething in anger turned to my mother in disgust, “Jennipher (that’s how my mother spells her name), isn’t that just like you, always defending Tom Henke.”

The marriage didn’t last very much longer after that.

I have the strangest feeling that Drunk Jays Fans links are about to disappear off of a lot of blog rolls over the next few days.

If you’re anything like me (it feels good doesn’t it?), you’re more amped about tonight’s home opener than an electric eel attached to Benjamin Franklin’s kite in a lightning storm.

It’s okay to get excited. We’re not all cold, calculated robot men with no souls. For some of us, there isn’t much more to live for than sitting on a hard plastic chair with a cold beer in your hand, watching pitchers from the stretch, listening to the crack of a bat and telling the racial minority in front of you to simmer down after they stand up and shout for every single motherfucking routine fly ball as though it’s a home run.

Baseball is back in our city and it’s our duty as fans to give it the welcome back that it deserves.

However, it’s also important to remember a few key things about tonight’s game.

1) Don’t Be A Total Douche To Ushers

Let’s be honest, you’re probably going to be incoherently drunk by the third inning, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a total douche to the usher who asks you not to stand up on your seat and holler at Mike Lowell to “go back to Florida and fucking shoot up, you Cuban faggot” in front of the two six year olds sitting in the row behind you.

Yes, a minority of the ushers and usherettes (purrlo!) are total power trippin’ cunts and cuntettes, but the majority are fans just like us. They’re already going to have to tolerate the shitload of Red Sox fans who are acting as though they’re drunk for the very first time because there’s a whole extra percent of alcohol in Canadian beer. Don’t be a shit in their cut.

2) Avoid Physical Confrontation

I know what you’re thinking. Pacifism is for pussies. Well, you’re wrong meathead.

Are you seriously in kindegarten or are you just not clever enough to think up derogitory comments to solve confrontations.

As I expressed earlier, there are going to be a shitload of poorly educated Masswads coming into our stadium. They’re going to adapt a bullshit blue collar attitude and over enunciate their Boston accent because they’re “prawd” of their step-above-poverty upbringing and complete ignorance of anything outside of their own self-congratulatory existence.

In other words, you’re going to want to punch the living fuck out of the first douche bag in a Youkilis jersey and moustache who challenges you to fisticuffs. Stay strong! Mock him. Make him feel small and stupid. Call him out for being a caveman who thinks the odour of pepporoni on his breath is charming.

If you have to fight, try to avoid fighting a guy in the row behind you. That one level of elevation can make a huge difference.

3) Read The Drunk Jays Fans Guides

Look, it’s likely been at least six months since you were at your last game. Even the best of us will be a little bit rusty. Fortunately, we’ve got you covered.

Check out the frame to the right of this post. Scroll down to between a shitty Google Ad and our blog archive. Right there you’ll find all the information you need to start your baseball season on the right foot.

Skip the guide to sneaking down because even the mightiest DJF can’t pull that shit at the home opener, and the reading guide was done soberly and ill advisedly . . . and the interweb guide isn’t really all that relevant . . . but the rest, yeah, the rest will tell you all you need to know from where to park your car, what beer to buy, what to do when you catch a foul ball and what to do with your foul balls.

Read it, learn it and love it.

4) Pictures And Videos

Remember when I posted the picture of that young girl with Jeremy Accardo and Brian Tallet, and everyone got all “oh, it’s okay to make fun of people in theory, but making fun of real people is crossing a moral line that I just made up, and I’m mentioning this not because I’m actually offended, but just because I recognize it as possibly being what other people would consider offensive?”

Well, you can get made fun of too.

Post your own favourite home opener pictures and videos on our Facebook Fan Page (because we’re trying to up our cool quotient), and we’ll select our favourites and post them on the blog, along with some derogitory remarks. The owner of the best picture or video, as subjectively decided by whichever DJF writer is more sober, will receive a special Drunk Jays Fans Experience invitation for the May 23rd game against Kansas City.

Actually, it’s just a couple tickets to the Royals game that some guy from Ottawa is going to send us, but if you want you can sit near us, and we might buy you a drink.

Check out some DJF Cam samplings to see what we’re looking for.

5) Final Warning

Don’t you dare fucking pass out!

While most of our DJF guides instruct readers on how best to get fucked up, how best to fuck someone else up (or down if you prefer), or how best to sneak stuff into the stadium to get fucked up, I wanted to acknowledge the fact that there are respectable teetotallers out there in the Rogers Centre crowd and explain that baseball audiences aren’t always as ruckus as a stadium full of people waiting for a Bludklot, Festering Puke and Zombie Hate Brigade triple bill.

In fact, one of my favourite regulars from last season was a man in his mid to late thirties who would bring his three young kids with him to games and patiently explain to them some of the finer points. I never once saw him have to keep one eye shut in order to better judge the distance between steps in an aisle on his way to get more to drink, but I respected him nonetheless.

As the 2008 regular season creeps closer and closer to the starting line, I thought that now would be as good a time as any to prepare ball game goers for the time of their life.

Tickets

Don’t ever, ever, ever buy tickets from scalpers, even if they look like Gregg Zaun’s rickbag cousin. They are the lowest form of life on a baseball stadium’s property and that includes the people who get excited over getting a shitty box from FedEx. Scalpers are not conceived naturally. They are created through asexual means and are birthed out of pods that are found in sewers.

You know when you’re walking up Front Street and that whiff of maggoty rancour hits your face? That’s not an ordinary urban odour. That’s the smell of a scalper’s afterbirth seething out of a birthing pod.

Don’t buy tickets from them.

For almost every regular season game, you can purchase your seats through the Jays ticket office on the day of the match. If you’re one of those plan ahead types, you can also purchase tickets online, over the phone or at those Rogers Video stores that I don’t go into anymore because I racked up some serious late charges on a Hot Tamale DVD.

Getting To The Game

I know it sounds hippieish or whatever, but seriously your best options are walking or bicycling. The TTC can be more infuriating than a rusty screw being driven into your backside if it’s only minutes before the opening and you still have to pick up your tickets at will call. Driving in gridlocked traffic downtown just prior to a game is even more unpleasant, and finding adequate parking isn’t exactly a treat either.

If you have to take the TTC, make sure you find your way to the Spadina Streetcar. In fact, go out of your way to get on this trolley and take it to the Bremner Blvd. stop South of Front. Trust me on this one. A bunch of idiots are going to get out at the Front stop and walk an extra kilometre to the game, but if you get off at Bremner you can cross Spadina and follow the boulevard right to the box office at Section 9.

If you have to drive, you’re probably a weird control freak or you live far away which is even stranger. God help you in traffic, but if you’re looking to park on the cheap, there are a bunch of buildings on Front Street between Spadina and Bathhurst. Some of these buildings have visitor parking areas you can use for a few hours. It’s definitely a case of use at your own risk, but sometimes $15 can be better spent on a beer and a . . . well, a beer inside the stadium, than on parking.

Inside The Stadium

I’ve never really understood the thrill of getting a ball at a game, but some people go berserk for one. If you want to ensure a souvenir, during the visiting team’s pre game warmup, go down the first base side, close to the field, but avoid the section with the Comfort Zone seating. Not only are you likely to step on crack vials on the floor (never mind, that’s a different Comfort Zone), the ushers are a bit more protective of this area. Try Section 114 or the outfield side of 115, and politely ask one of the opposing players to toss you a ball.

I’m not going to shit you. Having a great rack or a cute kid definitely helps, but most ballplayers or equipment managers are accommodating if you’re genuine and polite. A few good things did come out of the work stoppage in 1994.

If a foul ball is more your game, be a man, and please don’t use a baseball glove or fishing net. It’s sad, and when you catch a foul with something other than your bare hands it makes my balls feel like I just saw someone get kicked in the gonads. You can increase your chances of feeling the smack of manhood on your hands by sitting anywhere in the 113s on the first base side or the 130s on the third base side.

For home run balls, you can check out Hit Tracker Online to see where the balls going yard have landed at Rogers Centre in the past. Last season, with the Jays predominantly right handed lineup, Section 138 in left field was the money shot section.

Never, ever get tricked into sitting in any of the following sections: 141, 142, 237, 238, 520, 521. These are the Cable Box’s non-alcohol seating areas.

Getting On Jays Vision

There really is little mystery to getting on Jays Vision, or what was formerly called The Jumbotron (fortunately with last year’s addition of Frank Thomas to the ballclub, a jumbotron is still a part of the Rogers Centre experience). All you have to do is act like one of the “Special Kids” from your elementary school when you stole their Ritalin and traded it to a high school kid for a mickey of rye, or a senior citizen who lost his heart medication.

Between innings, dance to whatever shitty song offends your ears over the PA system. Dance, dance, dance. Do the lawnmower, throw some fist pumps, bring the mother fucking hammer down. Do all this, and you will get on Jays Vision and your sad need for attention will momentarily be assuaged.

Once again, if you’ve got a nice rack or a cute kid, you’ll easily get the attention of a cameraman in the camera bays next to the dugouts (near Section 116 on the first base side and Section 127 on the third base side).

During weekend games, keep an eye out for in-game hosts Ryan Greer and Jill Clark patrolling your section. Pay them a compliment without it sounding sarcastic, and they may pick you for the next trivia question. Answer correctly and you could win a glamourous duffle bag or a gift card for a strictly mediocre chain restaurant.

Foodings

As previously mentioned, you can bring your own food into Rogers Centre. As long as it’s properly packaged and isn’t laced with a detectable narcotic, you’ll have no problem getting it past security.

If you don’t mind dropping $10 on items that normally cost $5, try a Philly Cheese Steak near the top of Section 114 or a runny burrito at the top of Section 129. Otherwise, combo up your meals at the regular concession stands and the prices are only partially outrageous. Just remind yourself that you’d probably pay around the same amount for the same food at a pub anyway.

If you’re craving a hot dog though, don’t waste your time at the regular concessions. Seek out the kosher dogs on the third base side. Don’t waste any time at the noodle house either. You’ll do better to wait until after the game and buy a $.25 pack of Mr. Noodles.

Exit Stage Right or Stage Left

The end of the game is usually a clusterfuck. I’m simply not cut out for walking outside the Rogers Centre in the cold Ontario Spring air or sweaty Ontario Summer air and breathing in the second hand smoke of future cancer victims while getting my ass credit carded by denim cut-off wearing former convicts yelling “How ‘bout those Blue Jays!”

That’s why, no matter where I’m sitting, I make my way to the exit ramps near Section 108 or Section 135. Walk up one level, and you’re free to exit the ballpark like a human being instead of cattle. You come out of Rogers Centre close to Front Street and about ten minutes ahead of the people who used the other exits.

On Saturday and Sunday, never use the ramp near Section 108 because that’s where the munchkins line up to run the bases after the game. Anytime I start to get serious with a girl, I take a walk up this ramp after a matinee game. Once I exit Rogers Centre, I immediately place a telephone call to terminate the relationship.

So it’s been a while since I’ve posted and that’s mainly because the Colorado media seem even less interested in Towers than we ever were so I got nothing. Also because a lot of this pre-season news deals with factual information about baseball and that’s something best left to the minds of Stoeten and Parkes (who’ve been fucking nailing it these past few weeks).

My job is dealing with the hypothetical and nonsensical. And with all the trade talks, the new faces we’re seeing here, the old faces we won’t be seeing here no more, the questionnable J.P. moves, the roid accusations and the loss of Towers to the Rockies, I’ve noticed a loss of morale among some Jays fans. And that’s when you start to wonder if there really are any heroes left in the game. The simple answer to that is: Fuck no.

If there is an outstanding player in the game who you admire, chances are he’s either totally juiced, or he drives to and from the game totally loaded, or he cheats on his wife, or he’s a complete asshole or he’s into child pornography. Let’s face it, professional athletes are a bunch of heartbreakers. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t delude yourself into thinking otherwise. Having a hero in the game is essential in keeping your faith during another season where, yeah, we’ll probably finish third again. But having a guy there who you just lose your shit for will have you oblivious to the standings, let alone the fact that it even has other players. It’s only now that Towers is gone that I’m learning the names of some of these fine folks we have here like Hank Thomas, Werner Wells, Alex Ross and Boy Holiday. Some of these guys are pretty good!

But aside from the delusions, a favourite player can simply elevate your viewing of the game to a higher plateau. And let’s face it, if you can’t name a favourite Jays player, you probably have no personality whatsoever. Plus, it makes for great conversation if you’re trying to get a girl in the sack — damnit, I just can’t bring myself to writing punch kitty.

So as we approach the 2008 season (which granted seems pretty far away with this fucking -25 degree wind chill), here are some helpful tips on how to successfully nab yourself a hero for the year. After all, as Nickelback’s Chad Kroeger and that fat fuck told us in that “Spiderman” song:

And they say that a hero can save us.
I’m not gonna stand here and wait.
I’ll hold on to the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.

Wait a minute. What the fuck does that even mean? Not that I predicted that these lyrics would be profound or anything but that just doesn’t make any sense at all. It doesn’t even have anything to do with fucking Spiderman. I guess when you pronounce words in nu metal speak you can get away with anything. Awesome.

1. Be original, don’t pick a superstar

OK, that’s pretty much the only rule right there in terms of picking a favourite player. We’re just going to branch out from that with some tips on how to be original so that you don’t end up like this guy:

a) Don’t pick a superstar and claim credit for his awesomeness

Our friend over here (I’d say Brazillian friend but really, I’m not so sure) is demonstrating how you can commit a bigtime picking-your-favourite-player sin by not only choosing a soccer player who even Americans have heard of, but also pointing out for our benefit that Ronaldo is in fact “the shit.” Thanks for the update dickless! Nevermind the headband, this guy has douche written all over him and that’s not because I think Ronaldo is a douche (dude learned how to speak Dutch during his time with PSV and can still speak it!).

I also just went to the Leafs game on Saturday with Priestman (playoffs!) and my reservation of the Leafs and their fans as human beings was immediately heightened by some 40-year-old dude wearing a Sundin jersey who promptly stood up and pointed to himself when Mats Sundin’s name was announced for that night’s starting lineup. Dude, for real? You’re not Mats Sundin. I realize you spent over $200 to get a jersey pretty much the same as his that he gets for free but that’s where the similarity ends. The only reason for this behaviour would be if the guy was Mats’ long-lost Swedish brother. And he wasn’t. And Priestman and I promised each other that we’re going to be become San Jose Sharks fans next year.

If you still don’t get what I’m going after, consider the classic Offspring analogy. Remember when their second album “Smash” came out and you were stoked cause you were one of the 13 people who had their first album cause you saw one of their songs featured in a skateboarding video? And then you got to the title track with the chorus:

I’m not a trendy asshole.
I do what I want, I do what I feel like.
I’m not a trendy asshole.
I don’t give a fuck if it’s good enough for you.
Cause I’m alive.

And you thought they’d penned an anthem just for you and the other 12 people who bought that album? And then a bazillion other people bought that album and sang along to that chorus? Didn’t that make the band and the song somewhat less special if not completely irrelevant? Sure, if they were playing a gig at the Silver Dollar and there were eight people around, you could proudly sing along. But would you do that in a stadium filled with 40,000 morons singing the same thing? Think about it.

b) Don’t pick a player because everyone else likes him

Maybe it’s just me but I never pick popular players as my favourite players. While that probably makes me a total loser, at least I’m a unique total loser. I wouldn’t even say I don’t like to follow the crowd, maybe it’s just that I’m uncomfortable when I’m in crowds.

I certainly know that I didn’t want to “Be Like Mike” when I was in Junior High School and the photo to the left is one of the main reasons why (although part of me thinks this photo is self-parody, looks at the guy’s stache!). The other reason is that everybody loved the Chicago Bulls and I could never see the point in that. They won all the time. And usually due to heroics by Michael Jordan. While many found that to be admirable and a great reason to cheer for them (come to think of it, I guess it is), I found it to be horribly predictable and lame. And the worst part was most of these so-called fans didn’t have a clue about basketball (remember the fat dudes at your school who loved Jordan but couldn’t make a free throw to save their life? Is it fair to call that pathetic?) and would just join in with the winning team. I guess I was an indie rocker even then when I was into Motley Crue cause that just never appealed to me. What did appeal to my limited interest in basketball was the Celtics and Larry Bird. Now Bird was certainly a superstar, but unlike the exciting style of Michael Jordan, Bird was a boring fuck and although his talent was certainly recognized, no one wanted to associate themselves with his throws compared to the awesomeness that is slam dunks (read: showboating). All this is saying is that I was superior to all of my school mates and I never kissed a girl in Junior High School and I was probably a racist.

c) Don’t pick a superstar and then make fun of lesser players

As a Towers fan, I get a lot of this. And it makes me defensive to the point of losing my sanity. But seriously, you like a player who is blessed with natural talent you do not have and gets paid more in a month than you will see in your lifetime? Fine. But if you want to scoff at someone who actually reflects your life as his own life is a bitch and a constant struggle and nothing comes easy, you may as well be a Yankees fan.

d) If you are going to pick a superstar, have a reason

Alright, you can’t be bothered to waste your life like me and cheer for a total loser. At least have something to back up your choice instead of “He’s awesome.” We all know that you fuck, he does play for the Blue Jays. But what makes him special to you? Acceptable reasons are:

- he saved my mom’s life.
- he paid for my university education.
- he let me sit in his box seats because I was a sick.
- he absolutely destroyed the Kansas City Royals in some game in 2005 in about 85 minutes, allowing me to make it home and still do my laundry.

One of those reasons happen to be the reason why the Chairman Mao’s favourite player is Roy Halladay. I’ll begrudgingly accept only because I still feel he would hate Josh Towers even if he were to accomplish all four of these tasks.

e) Pick a farm team dude

I don’t really think you can go wrong with picking a new guy in the club. Unless he’s some overhyped fuckface like Eric Lindros was in the NHL, you got nothing to worry about. Your boy is an underdog right there, and we all know the underdog is always a superior call (if you don’t mind losing a bunch). Thigpen, Lind, Litsch and De Jong (because of his ancestry) are all admirable to root for. And the best thing is, if they do turn out to be bona fide superstars, you can claim all the credit you want for their glory. You played just as much a part of it and while they might not share any of their earnings with you, you can still be mighty proud.

f) Let your favourite player choose you

This is a tough topic and one that you’ve seen floating around in the comments section from time to time (mostly filled with my rants). I don’t think I’ve come close to ending the argument but ultimately, the fact that your favourite player is someone who chose you is not up for debate. A wise friend once told me: “You don’t choose your favourite player, they choose you.” So if you’re still at a loss, stop forcing it already and relax. You’ll know when the time is right. And if you don’t believe me consider the fact that as occasional contributor to DJF, the most asked question I definitely get (and it’s been asked at least twice) is: Why is Josh Towers your favourite player? Why the fuck do you think? It’s not like I had any choice in the matter.

A couple weeks ago, I stumbled into an Indigo (Canadian for Barnes & Noble . . . sort of) looking for a quick read over the lunch hour. Without a single baseball magazine to choose from, I went searching through the stacks of baseball books that were hidden almost underneath an escalator.

Interested in one out of every two dozen stacked, I made three decisions: 1) I was going to spend this summer reading as many books about baseball as possible, 2) I wasn’t going to read any shitty books about baseball, and 3) I wasn’t going to read any fictional books about baseball (no matter what good things people say about Mark Harris’ The Southpaw).

After a quick and frustratingly unfruitful search online, I consulted my friend and fellow baseball head James (previously mentioned in this blog as the man who intends on tying his first son’s right arm to his body as a means of improving his chances of raising a Southpaw) on a proper list of good baseball reading.

His suggestions combined with my own baseball reading have resulted in The DJF Guide To Summer Reading. Throughout the summer, I’ll be providing reviews on many of these books, as I knock off the ones I haven’t already read.

The Long Ball by Tom Adelman
This is an in-depth look at the 1975 season, mainly covering the Boston Red Sox and Cincinnati Reds, with features on Bill “Spaceman” Lee, Catfish Hunter, Pete Rose and one of the greatest World Series of all time.

A Pitcher’s Story by Roger Angell
Angell, quite possibly the greatest baseball writer, follows David Cone during the 2000 season, the worst of his career. Despite some pity for the arm aneurysm, I hate David Cone. I hated him when he left the Jays for Kansas City and then I hated him again when he came back and whined to be traded.

Eight Men Out by Eliot Asinof
We all know the story and everything, but this book goes into more meticulous detail about the 1919 Black Sox than you when you brag to your friends about your first threesome experience. Although written in 1963, this book would still be a stand out if it were written today.

Ball Four by Jim Bouton
Before the days of tell-all book deals, this story named names and made no attempt to protect anyone. According to Wikipedia, Ball Four covers all “the petty jealousies, the obscene jokes, the drunken tomcatting . . . and the routine drug use” of a professional baseball team.

Diamond Dreams by Stephen Brunt
Probably Canada’s best print journalist, Brunt covers the first thirty years of our beloved Blue Jays, from drunk fans who loved Rush to, well, drunk fans who still love Rush.

The Last Best League by Jim Collins
Collins chronicles the Cape Cod League’s Chatham A’s during the 2002 summer league season and introduces a number of characters amongst the college all-stars. Along the way, we’re given an appreciation for summer on Cape Cod and the place of baseball in the heart of a local community.

Game Of Shadows by Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams
Do you hate Barry Bonds, but have trouble articulating just why? You can skim any random page of this amazing piece of investigative journalism and come up with a dozen reasons to hate the soon-to-be Home Run King of Kings.

The New Bill James Historical Baseball Abstract by Bill James
I know you’re thinking this is likely just the first baseball abstract, but with a new epilogue or something. It’s actually almost an entirely new book in which James rates the 100 best players at each position and introduces more ways to statistically analyze ball clubs.

The Boys Of Summer by Roger Kahn
Kahn takes a look at the history of the Brooklyn Dodgers organization, right up to their 1955 World Series win. He also follows the individual players from these storied teams as they live their lives after baseball.

Moneyball by Michael Lewis
You’ve probably used the term “moneyball” more than the word “please” over the last couple months, but find out why Oakland GM Billy Beane would not want Jeremy Bonderman and Ben Sheets on his team. Also learn what Silver Tongue Ricciardi was up to before his days as Jays GM.

Fantasyland by Sam Walker
Subtitled as a season on baseball’s lunatic fringe, Walker writes about his experience getting into the world of fantasy baseball. According to the The New York Times review, he “goes all out, hiring experts, attending spring training, peppering general managers and players with technical questions and trying to determine whether the clubhouse access he enjoyed as a sportswriter would help him in drafting the best batters and pitchers.”

Weaver On Strategy by Earl Weaver
With a managerial strategy based around pitching, defense and the three run home run, it would be interesting to see how Weaver would stack up against his managerial competitors today. However, the cocky, foul-mouthed manager isn’t just full of piss and vinegar. Reading about his baseball philosophy is a great companion piece to the more scientific Moneyball.

May The Best Team Win by Andrew Zimbalist
Zimbalist wrote the book on the economics of sport. No, literally, he wrote The Economics of Sport I and II. In this book, the American economist examines the current state of baseball and offers economic solutions for the many inequalities between the haves and have nots of Major League Baseball teams.