Royal bastards: Kauffman Stadium is a wonderful baseball venue located southeast of downtown Kansas City, which is of course a fairly well-known suburb of Overland Park, Kan. The Royals don't deserve the place. They are a retrograde and proudly stupid franchise — one that trashes its owns fans and American culture in general for being too impatient to appreciate the stealthy genius of, say, acquiring Yuniesky Betancourt — and yet they are headquartered in a forward-looking baseball stadium that represents the last time the team did anything worth imitating. That they let the Royals play there is akin to letting a kazoo band play the Sydney Opera House.

Special K: Kauffman opened in 1973, the first year of the designated hitter and at the front end of what passes for the baseball's progressive era. The two — the DH and the K — share something of the same DNA. In those days, baseball wasn't so paralyzed by its drippy nostalgia for its own, unfortunate past; it was willing to experiment, to tinker, and if that meant a few hamhanded measures like the DH, it also gave us new stadiums, like the one in Kansas City, whose very design — AstroTurf, symmetrical outfield, etc. — shaped the style of play, mostly for the better. The baseball of the day was dynamic. Bill James has written:

I have nothing good to say about artificial turf. But the baseball of the 1970s, which was derived in part from the artificial turf that was then so popular, was a wonderful brand of baseball. On the field at one time you might have a player who was capable of hitting .350 or better, a baserunner who was capable of stealing 80 or more bases, a hitter who was capable of hitting 35 or 50 homers, and a 20-game winner who could strike out 250 or 300 batters.

No one misses AstroTurf. That's not the point. Baseball had struck a great balance in the 1970s, and that had everything to do with the game's brief willingness to try new things, be it a well-meaning but ill-conceived DH rule or an unapologetically modernist stadium in Kansas City. That spirit is long gone now, buried beneath a lot of old-timey red brick and steel and the cheap sentiment and various daddy issues of baby boomers who get nostalgic over all the wrong things.

The view from the stands (everything sic'd):

I live in KC, so I know how to deal with the pain that my team has caused for the last 24 seasons. I was born 4 years after the only World Championship, so I've only seen one winning season for the Royals in my entire life. It's just been one down hill story after the next, but there is one that is high above the others. I was about 12 when this happened, a nearly teenage kid who was still a little smaller but not as small as one would think. We were sitting in the third base side Plaza seats or whatever they've called them for a few years now. My mom's company had season tickets which she won quite a bit from since nobody ever wanted to see the Royals. Well on this particular night, fate would come my way. The foul popped up by Joe Randa was heading right for me, glove stretched out, excitement brewing, when out of nowhere, this 300+ fatass literally grabs me and throws me aside. It happened so quick, I didn't see that I was falling right into the pointed armrest eye first. My eye was swelling within seconds, intense pain, and then the fatty spoke, "Shouldn't have got in my way little fucker", as security came to take me to first aid and reprimanded the fatty. They gave me a Sweeney(BLEH) home run ball and a t-shirt for my troubles, which turned out to be not worth it in the long run. Turns out, when my left eye hit the chair, it helped by moving my cornea just a slight bit and helping advance my, at that time undiagnosed, keratoconus. Now I'm basically blind in my left eye and the ball was lost many years ago, yet I still go to see that shitty team every year, thinking maybe, just maybe, we might finish third in the division. (Calvin from KC)

Father's Day, this season. My brother's first Father's Day as a dad. It just so happens that his lady's family lives near KC. The Cardinals are playing that weekend, and there is no way in hell we are missing a chance to see Pujols. So her sisters round up 12 tickets so both of our families can go to the game. Father's Day also happened to be the hottest day of the year. Thankfully, we were under the second deck's shad the entire game. That way, it was only "my ball sweat has worked through my shorts & it isn't even time for the first pitch" hot instead of "I've lost the will to live because the sun has bored a hole in my skull" hot. Which detracted from the truly nice conditions of the new K.

Anyhoo, between the 3rd & 4th innings, my brother & I sneak out back for a smoke. We walk back to the chain link fence & are standing next to a smoker's pole that has smoke pouring out of the top of it. Not only that, but the combination of still lit butts & opressively direct sunlight are melting the pole at the base, and there are visible flames coming out of a growing breach in the bottom. I, being a good citizen, go to pour some of my water on the open fire. But do you know who didn't like that? The fatass, lazy security broad who was standing 90 feet away, doing nothing to barricade an unwitting public to said open flame other than yelling from 90 feet away. I told her there was a fire going on there. She said, "I know". I asked her if something should be done about. She said she'd called it in, but it wasn't her job to deal with it. Apparently, the SECURITY sash on her back was placed there like a Kick Me sign when she wasn't looking.

After the cigarette break, my brother & I make it to the standing room section on the deck just in time to see Pujols bounce a grand slam off the Royals Hall of Fame. While high fiving, we are informed a meth addicted Royals fan that he has proof Pujols is juicing & that we will be sorry when the truth comes out. I'm sure that he hid that proof in the engine block that is subbing for his coffee table, the block that he takes apart & reassembles for days at a time in his better meth binges. Good times were had by all. (Casey)

There is still nothing but meth and hookers in Independence: The new Kauffman, or as our local media has dubbed it "the cougar" (30 year old with a face lift, get it?) is truly a testimate to the citizens and culture of Kansas City; bland, white, and little brat friendly.

When the initiative to renovate the stadiums was put out to the public, much of the opposition was centered around building a new downtown stadium. KC was pumping millions into gentrifying its downtown area. There was a new arena going in and the accompanying White Power and Light (so called by locals because of its discriminatory dress codes) entertainment district. Why not add downtown baseball? No no no, such an idea would be far too progressive for a town like Kansas City. Instead, we'll dump more money into the baron shithole of an area that currently houses the Truman Sports Complex. Want some pregame entertainment? You've got three choices, Taco Bell, Denny's and the recently boarded up Shady Lady.

Leave no square inch unadvertised: Few stadiums embrace the corporate sellout mentality quite like the new K. "But they didn't sell the stadium naming rights," you may say. I would much rather watch a game at Arthur Bryant's Stadium than risk an epileptic seizure from the barrage of flashy advertisements we see at the ballpark. We have the Bud Light Part Deck, the Miller Lite Fountain Bar, the John Deer Little K, the Dri Duck Fountain seats, the Cool Crest Putting Diamond, and the Pepsi Party Poarch, and that's just in the outfield.

Eat shit, Garth Brooks: We country bumpkins love us some country western, and we especially love ole' Garth. We love him so much that he played nine straight shows to open our new Sprint Center. Still, do we really need a Garth Brooks sing along at every baseball game? One of the Royals between inning entertainment dealies is a follow the bouncing ball sing along to Friends in Low Places. I love the idea of stadium karaoke and karaoke in general (Bobby Brown's My Perogative being hands down the greatest karaoke song) but can't we mix it up a little? Most fans come to more than one game a year and Garth was lame on night one.

Buck Nights: Think of the kind of crowd that is drawn to dollar dog, dollar soda night. "Hey kids, you don't need to worry about goin to bed hungry tonight, we're going to Buck Night." On Buck Nights you will see fewer teeth, more Stars and Bars on trucks, more jorts, more single teen moms, fewer sleeves and hear more "Whooohs!" and "Git-R-Dones" than any other nights of the year.

No rolling roof: Big fuck you to Johnson County and their soulless suburban prick residents who killed any chance of us getting a rolling roof. Have no soul? Then you'll love Overland Park, KS home of the country's whitest whities.

Lack of local food: We in KC love to eat, that's why were fat. We have good local bbq and sausage. Why said bbq and sausage is nowhere to be found in the stadium is a fucking travesty. Ollie Gates would be turning over in his grave, if he was dead.

RIP urinal troughs: Why the fuck anyone would ever get rid of troughs in the men's room? No matter how many dudes are up at the trough you know you can always fit at least one more. Well no more. No no we have the pussy individual urinals with the little dividing wall between them. I know us white guys are insecure about dongs and compensate with our automatic weapons and big-as-all-outdoors pickup trucks, but seriously, do we need to worry about meat gazers while at a baseball game? "But I can't pee in public, I get nervous," then stay the fuck home and be sure as hell you don't procreate. (Brian D.)

There are only a few times when the crowd at The K pushes at least 25,000 ... when the Red Sox or Yankees come to town, when Grienke pitches or, of course, opening day.

But Opening Day, falling right around the Final Four as it does, always becomes a pissing match between fans of KC's two favorite college teams, the Chickenhawks and the Tiggers.

So, instead of actually enjoying the one day of the year that our beloved Royals are NOT solidly in last place, the KU idiots and MU morons spend the entire game proudly flaunting their school colors and drunkingly screaming at one another.

The best KU/MU opening day experience came the year that the ol' Hawks went tumbling in the first round thanks to Bucknell. Pretty funny, yeah, but MU wasn't even in the tourney that year, so a proud Tiger fan decides to show up in his brand-new, bright orange Bucknell shirt that he bought online.

He graciously accepted the mixture of applause and boos when he first grabbed his seat a few rows in front of me. The longer the game went on, however, the more drunk and more brave he became.

By the seventh inning he was standing in his seat, flipping the double-bird to the Free-Staters in the section, while unsuccessfully trying to avoid the hot dogs, beers and leftover portions of Gates BBQ that were being hurled in his direction.

Oh yeah, and the Royals lost. (Ryan A.)

Growing up in Kansas City during the 80s, my earliest memories of major league ball include vivid images of George Brett, Willie Wilson and Frank White presiding over then Royals Stadium's bright green astroturf.

Last week myself and 10,000 other fans (nearly all of us with free tickeds, I presume) watched Kansas City's most expensive baseball team to date get pounded by the Minnesota Twins, who have become the model small market franchise.

While waiting in line last week, I was handed free upper deck tickets, a coupon for a buy one ticket get one free, and then was upgraded with one box seat ticket. Kansas Citians love a good deal, which probably explains how we inherited an owner that wouldn't trade value (Joe Randa) for high-priced talent.

All summer, Kansas Citians have flocked to the "K" to see our newly renovated stadium. Taxpayers spent more than $200 million to add much needed amenities like ribbon scoreboards, a sports bar in right field that has a $100 per table minimum, and diaper changing stations in every bathroom.

Somehow the renovation -handled by local sports architecture firm HOK - managed to add bathrooms but increase wait times for urinals. They accomplished this by removing horse-trough urinals with individual urinals. Very slick.

But that's not all.

The team apparently tried to hike up the rent on Gates Barbecue, which for year has had a small version of its famous restaurants (HI MAY I HELP YOU). Gates said no thanks, and now we get Aramark's version of mediocre, bland barbecue.

Thank goodness the K never had a sampling of Kansas City's other claim to fame, jazz, or the new K probably would have replaced Charlie Parker and Count Basie with Kenny G.

A portion of the remodel included expanding upper deck openings. Not sure what that accomplished, but the upper deck now vaguely resembles a portion of the Oakland-Almeda County Colisuem. Thanks for that.

Since then, they've replaced the turf with grass (good move), replaced Bo Jackson and Danny Tartabull with David DeJesus and Mike Jacobs, and turned what once was a model franchise into an organization rated somewhere between Triple-A and the majors.

When I was 11, I got to meet Bret Saberhagen at a local Hy-Vee grocery store. Sabes let me and my little brother sit in his Jaguar, and asked us if we liked baseball.

I can only imagine what 10-year-old fans around town say when they meet Kyle Farnsworth coming out of Price Chopper and settling into his Hummer, laughing about the $4 million contract he's playing with this year.

In the end, maybe it's better to stand in line for batting cages, miniature golf or the new hall of fame exhibit.

What's more sad than seeing the stadium of your childhood become an outdoor outlet mall? Turning your attention to a team that hasn't been able to get Zack Greinke 18 wins. (Wagon from Lee's Summit, Missouri)

I was at a game at Kauffman Stadium about 4 years ago where my friend and I were actually kicked out of seats that were in the last row of the upper deck. Some power-hungry, female usher came up and asked to see our tickets. After we showed them to her, she told us that we had $7 tickets, and that we were sitting in $12 seats. Never mind the fact that there was only 1 other person sitting within 100 feet of us. I asked her what harm we were doing sitting in those seats, seeing as how the stadium was 3/4 empty. She told us that if we didn't get up, she would call security. Angrily, I stood up, and as I walked past her, I told her that maybe the stadium wouldn't be 3/4 empty if the Royals didn't treat their fans like this (okay, so maybe the quality of the team had something to do with it too, but let's overlook that for now). Later on, we watched as the same usher kicked a couple of little kids out of seats near where we had been. It's people like her that deserve to die of a vicious venereal disease. But other than that, the game was good. (Sam S.)

So whenever the Minnesota Twins play at Kaufmann Stadium, Twins fans like to make the seven hour drive down to KC and pretty much make it a home series for the Twins, as the Twins fans ALWAYS outnumber the Royals fans by at least 3 to 1 inside the stadium. Being a fan of all things Minnesota, I have to assume that this our way of getting revenge for years of Wisconsin Badgers and Iowa Hawkeyes fans outnumbering Gophers fans 3 to 1 at every home football game at the Metrodome (which in and of itself is the worst stadium in professional sports, but I digress).

So I'm at a Twins-Royals game a couple of years ago. And three drunken Royals fans (because you pretty much have to be drunk to endure Royals baseball) behind me decide to berate a girl a few rows down that happened to be wearing a Joe Mauer t-shirt. So after enduring being called adjectives describing vaginas, lesbians and promiscuous for about 30 minutes, she finally gets security. The idiots have the audacity to wonder why they are about to be thrown out of the stadium. As they are being escorted out of the section, one of them yells…."I hope your bridge collapses on the way home". Oh yeah, this was 6 days after the 35W bridge collapsed in downtown Minneapolis, killing 13 people. Stay classy Kansas City…… (Sir_Loin)

I attended a Royals game in 2006 or 2007 in which, after a brief rain shower in the early innings, my two friends and I comprised three-fifths of the attendees in section 146. And section 144. And section 142. And section 140.

By a strange coincidence, I also knew the other two attendees. Big-time Major League Baseball at its best. (Pete Gaines)

Maybe this belongs more in the FAILgate category, but it did happen @ "The K," so here goes:

I peel my unemployed, hungover ass off of a friend's couch at about 10:30 on a sunny day the summer after I graduate college to my buddy coming back thru the door with a huge box under his arm. He had just bought a new remote control airplane. I don't know where...I don't ask. While he's putting this thing together, I try ripping on him for not having a place to fly this thing. Where?? The park?? Too many shit-eating skateboarding 12 year olds. The street?? We're in the middle of the Johnson County burbs, and we're bound to fly this thing into a tree upon maiden flight. Without saying a word, my buddy proceeds to turn on the TV, and land the Time Warner Cable Guide on "MLB Baseball."

Want miles of uninhabited asphalt?? Go to a Royals Game. Kauffman Stadium and Arrowhead Stadium share a parking lot on about 3,000 acres of prime real estate next to two intersecting highways (I-70 and I-435). Unfortunately, these are the only two highways on which there has been no construction since the Eisenhower administration, which is bad if you are trying to pack 95,000 into the lot for a Chiefs taligate. Quite a lot easier when you're talking about 12,000 (announced attendance) for a Royals game.

The plan is simple: grab another buddy, a dirty 30 of Busch, and head out to the stadia. We brought the radio, and were going to listen to the pre-game and first couple of innings before heading in and buying the cheap, cheap GA tickets (fortunately, the Royals recognize how putiridly awful the team is, and have kindly kept some of the lowest ticket prices in the league).

Well, the plan goes a little two well. The remote control airplane is aweomely entertaining to three drunk guys, and before we know it, it's the third inning, and the Royals (being the Royals) are down 8-1. We look at each other, say "fuckit" and proceed to kill the 30, crash the plane into a Mercedes with JOCO license plates, and cruise out of the lot without ever having come within 200 yards of the stadium.

Royals Baseball: Catch the Fever!! (Chris L.)

Photo via photosb's Flickr account.

Next up: The Philadelphia Phillies' Citizens Bank Park. Got any horrible experiences to share? Send them to craggs@deadspin.com.

And then Mike Jacobs hit a solo home run, because the Royals are still in it.

The Twins will most likely lose the AL Central race at home next Tuesday, probably in the 12th inning.

•Yankees beat Boston for the first time since Mike Mussina was on the mound and George W. Bush was in the White House. Thanks, Obama, it's the Go-Go '90s all over again!

•Like most decisions in the past 11 years, ESPN's attempt to control Twitter can be traced back to having an ad sales guy, not an editorial guy, in charge. I'm sure after reading this George Bodenheimer will cry himself to sleep atop a giant pile of money.

•One eyed man with two recent shoulder surgeries tries (and fails) to win a million bucks by throwing three strikes before last night's Royals game. On the bright side, he's now their fifth starter.

•Why is everyone reporting that Donte Stallworth will accept the NFL's punishment? Does he have a choice? Is he going to run on to the field to try and play even if he's suspended?

•Julio Castillo, who injured a spectator in a minor league game, is sentenced to 30 days in jail. So if we're going by forced days off, assaulting a fan is half as bad as taking certain supplements from GNC.

•Jeremy Roenick was the face of American hockey for the last 20 years, and a media favorite. To celebrate his retirement, here's his top ten quotes. Only seven of them are J.R. calling out a player/coach/fanbase.

•If Shaq loses a doubles volleyball match to Kerri Walsh and Misty May-Treanor, he'll walk two miles in a pink speedo — "three sizes too small." I've started a fund to pay off Walsh and May-Treanor to take a dive.

Happy Friday. Don't drink and drive until at least 2 a.m.

Lots of people could use some urine! Plus, there's at least one ballgame-going group that might be especially grateful for the giveaway. I bet they would even buy out the whole concession stand in appreciation of the Royals' goodwill.

The more munchies in stock, the better.

******

Thank you, mutton lovers, for your continued support of Deadspin. Back tomorrow, and until then, uh, don't go chasin' waterfalls? And with that, I'll probably be fired by the end of the week.

Jazayerli, who describes himself as a "dermatologist by day, baseball writer by night, pathetic Royals fan all the time," is no mere fan blogger. He's a co-founder of Baseball Prospectus, and he's done admirable work on the study of pitcher abuse. He knows whereof he speaks, and when he speaks like this, in a raging 3,000-word indictment of the way the Royals handle and mishandle injuries, the organization would do well to pay attention. The Royals, being the Royals, did no such thing. Today, Jazayerli writes:

I was just informed last night that I've been blacklisted by the team. That's right: I've been banned by the Royals! The way this team is playing, I'm not sure if the Royals are trying to punish me or reward me.

Which he later clarified a little:

I don't think I've been "banned" in the sense that they're going to have security guards outside the stadium making sure that I don't buy a ticket. It does mean that the Royals have cut off any access I may have from the team for my radio show, and - this is critical - have intimated that any other radio show which has me on as a guest faces the same penalty.

This is obviously the Royals' right, but go back and read Jazayerli's initial post, which is maybe nasty only to the extent that he holds up Swartz (and only Swartz) as a symbol for what is pretty clearly an organizational flaw. He documents three egregious examples in which the team seemed to underplay, if not ignore, the extent of a player's injury, leading — in Jazayerli's mind — to more catastrophic injuries. Here he is on Coco Crisp, who recently underwent season-ending shoulder surgery:

I don't know about you, but to me, the handling of Coco Crisp's shoulder injury is by itself a fireable offense. Crisp was playing – terribly, mind you – with a bum shoulder FOR FIVE WEEKS, and even after his shoulder pain became severe enough that he could no longer play, the Royals kept shuffling him in and out of the lineup for three weeks, putting him back out there as soon as the pain became tolerable again.

But the pain didn't go away. It only got worse, and presumably his shoulder only got worse. The question that no one can answer is whether, five weeks ago, Crisp already had a torn labrum, or whether the injury occurred while trying to play through the inflammation. We can't answer it, but we sure as hell can speculate. As far as I'm concerned, the Royals' ham-fisted approach to Coco Crisp's shoulder turned an injury which might have healed with a few weeks of rest into a season-ender.

This is all very damnable stuff, and at this point, an angry gadfly like Jazayerli should be the least of the Royals' concerns. The team evidently thinks this is a public relations matter. It's not. If Jazayerli is right, it's a medical malpractice suit waiting to happen.

Banned! [Rany on the Royals]
Release The Hounds [Rany on the Royals]

Aaron Smith, of (I assume) Las Vegas, put down two bets totaling $21,750 on last Thursday's matchup between the Royals and Indians, What would possess someone to do such a thing? Well, Zack Greinke was pitching and that guy like ... never loses.

Even if you hadn't read this story from last week, you could probably guess how this one ends. Greinke and his bullpen blow a 3-1 lead and the game-winning RBI in the tenth bounces off a seagull that had parked himself in the outfield. Royals lose! Now Smith—a man who willingly wagered over $20,000 on the Royals— somehow thinks he has the worst bad beat story of all-time and will give $1,000 to anyone who can top it. That shouldn't be too hard. (Especially since the Indians had two on and nobody out against Kyle Farnsworth. The bird was the least of your issues. Of course, this contest make no sense unless the guy is trying to sell something—or he's an even worse gambler than we imagine.)

But walk into any poker room in the country and say, "Boy, did I have some rotten luck today," and you'll have 50 degenerate gamblers swarming you with sob stories that would make the hardest leg-breaking mob enforcer weep.

And to think all this guy lost was money!

When birds attack: a terrible gambling story, and $1,000 offer if you can top it [Ball Star]
Cleveland's Flock Of Seagulls Scores Another Hit [Deadspin]

Shin-Soo Choo had a walk off hit in the 10th inning last night—a hit that outfielder Coco Crisp could not field because the ball bounced off a bird who had parked himself in shallow left-center with the rest of his bird buddies. The birds have been wandering the ProgressiveJacobs Field grass a lot lately, probably because of the steady supply of midges that also love to call the stadium home ... and occasionally help the Indians win games.

It's all a product of Wedge's Tarzan-like "call of the wild" strategy, where he summons the animal spirits do his bidding and vanquish the enemies of Chief Wahoo. But will it come back to haunt him? First, the midges start deciding games, but then you need seagulls to control the midges ... and soon the seagulls are calling the shots. So what's the seagull's natural predator? Alligators? Orcas? If the Indians sign a grizzly bear to play left field, don't say I didn't warn you.

For the birds: Gull struck by winning hit [MLB]

According to police, everyone was enjoying a lovely day in Kauffman Stadium's outfield fun zone until Ronika Brooks walked in front of Erin Mela as Mela was taking a picture of her kid. Mela allegedly swore at her (Brooks says Mela directed a racial slur at her) then Mela's husband got involved, then three men may have jumped him, then he may have spit in Brooks' face ... then some kids got knocked over, so their parents joined in, and then at one point Erin Mela was definitely on the ground getting kicked in the head. Let's play two!

It also seems that security was a bit lax on the response.

"It was horrible," said Mike Worley of Olathe, who said T-shirt-wearing stadium staff failed to stem the violence and told him to "mind my own business" when he tried to point out participants.

Royals officials said that their security office was notified of a disturbance in the new outfield experience area at 3:45 p.m. Two minutes later the call was updated to a fight in progress. The first police officers arrived at 3:49 p.m....

"It was beyond a brawl. It started out as four people, and then as kids were getting toppled, those parents came in, the women were fighting," Phipps said. "The saddest scene was a girl wrapped around mom's waist and saying, 'Please don't,' and she's throwing punches."

But you haven't even heard the worst part yet. No, the most horrific thing about this ugly terrible brawl is that adults were swearing in front of children. I just ... what is this planet coming to?

Officers arrived in time to see Brooks kicking Mela's wife and shouting expletives. Police asked Brooks to keep quiet because of all the children around, but she "would not calm down," according to a police report. Police removed her from the area while other officers "calmed the situation."

A boot to the head is one thing, but please watch your mouth in front of the young Royals fans. If their parents wanted them to learn that stuff, they would just sit in the bleachers.

Two charged in brawl at Kauffman [Kansas City Star]
Police Investigate Brawl At The 'K' [KMBC]
Kansas City Royals Fans Get Into Brawl At Kids Play Area At Kaufmann Stadium [Sports Rubbish]

Why wouldn't you? Six wins, three complete games, two shutouts. Two earned runs? And he's sick in the head! Adversity, overcome. He's like Jim Abbott, Josh Hamilton and Christy Mathewson all rolled into one! Oh ... he's also a Kansas City Royal, which is like being handicapped in its own way.

There is absolutely nothing you can't like about this guy. Even his name is cool: Zaaaaack Greinke. The sounds like the alter ego of a comic book hero. Oh, man. I'm getting lightheaded just thinking about his curveball. I need some help here, Joe P.:

It was startling to watch. But there was something even more remarkable than Greinke's brilliance. The night was alive. Monday night baseball games in Kansas City's springtime have been dead affairs for many years. It only figures. Monday is a school night. Spring evenings in the heartland can be chilly. The Royals have routinely gotten off to sluggish starts (which have, traditionally, transitioned into sluggish middles and then sluggish finishes).

But Monday night felt like a bit of Kansas City past, going back to the 1970s and 1980s, when the Royals always seemed to win. A crowd of 21,843 may not make people across America gasp, but this was a Monday night in Kansas City, and there were probably 10,000 more people in Kauffman Stadium just because Zack Greinke was pitching. And it was a different kind of crowd, too....

[Cue "Battle Hymn Of The Republic"]

At the time he was uncertain if he would ever return. He was found to be suffering from social anxiety disorder and depression. He started to take some medication. After a few weeks away, he gingerly returned to baseball.

Now here it is, three years later, and he's pitching about as well as it is possible to pitch. Every time he comes out, it is an event, a happening. That's what it was on Monday. A happening.

He makes me proud to be an American, is what he does. Damn proud.

6-0…Zackkkkkkkkkk Greinke! [Ladies ...]
The Secret to Greinke's Success [Why's My Head Growing?]
Rumors and Rants » Blog Archive » Zack and AP Make A Porno [Rumors and Rants]
Zack Greinke's Quest for the Cy Young [Simon On Sports]
Greinke is magic on the mound [KC Star]

2009 could be quite a year for baseball in Missouri. The Royals are the fashionable dark horse pick to win the AL Central, as some people seem to think that the Rays' magical 2008 season somehow portends the Royals not sucking. Across the state in Missouri, Chris Carpenter appeared to be back to his old form yesterday, giving up one run in seven innings in the Cardinals' 2-1 win over the mighty Pirates of Pittsburgh. Yes, the season is less than a week old, but if mainstream sportswriters can make dumb World Series predictions every year, then so can I - Royals over the Cards in 7. Just you wait.

Davies, Crisp lead Royals to victory [KansasCity.com]
Just like old times for 'Carp' [STLToday.com]

Sure, perhaps there's a little more to it than that. Here I am cracking jokes about the Royals, while Pena has worked his ass off to learn English, the American Way, and — rather awesomely — become an honest-to-God US citizen. As Getting To First Base puts it,

What I didn't know was that Pena had to evade security guards and slip out of a bathroom window in Caracas when he was a teenager; that he left his beloved family behind to pursue a hope of a better life as an American ballplayer. That was ten years ago. He's a newly-minted American citizen now, a happy ending to a dangerous defection.

Still, I can't help but wonder if David Glass is really much of an improvement over Fidel.

[MLB.com, via Getting To First Base]

"The most perfect double-tapered shit of my life ... who are the pitchers in this game?" This quote will go down in baseball history along with Lou Gehrig's "Luckiest man on the face of the earth," as an enduring classic, I am certain.

Man, what kind of a person would discuss something like that?

George Brett Apparently Shits His Pants A Lot [YouTube]

So you thought that Pittsburgh's Yoslan Herrera had a bad outing on Saturday against the Rockies? At least he got a groin massage. The Royals lost to the Tigers 19-5 on Monday, most of the damage coming against reliever Jimmy Gobble:

The Tigers stretched their lead to 7-0 in the fifth and 9-0 in the seventh before pummeling Jimmy Gobble in a 10-run eighth inning that extended the lead to 19-0. All 10 runs were charged to Gobble, whose ERA spiked to 11.31. “Everything feels good,” Gobble insisted. “My velocity is there. The ball is down for the most part. … You can’t hope for change. You’ve got to go out and do it.”

So needing a pair of 10-run rallies to win, the Royals decided to save their bullpen for that September division pennant run and go to the position players to finish the game. And damned if Pena, the shortstop, didn't throw a one-two-three ninth. In all the confusion barely anyone noticed that the Tigers moved above .500, at 50-49.

Poor Gobble; there can't be a lonelier feeling in the world than to be down by 10 runs, 11 games out of first in late July, and being mercilessly shelled. Ain't no bullpen cart in your immediate future, my friend. The only saving grace is that attendance at Kauffman that day was only 14,157.

Royals' Rally Comes Up 15 Runs Short Against Tigers [Kansas City Star]

It's gotten pretty big locally. The T-shirt is selling like pine tar in Kansas City, while even Soria himself has acknowledged and embraced the nickname. And the good news? The Mexicutioner is being attributed to a blogger.

Bob Dutton, Royals beat writer for The Star, says the The Mexicutioner nickname didn't start with him. WHB's Kevin Kietzman, who did launch the T-shirts, also said he can't claim to be the origin of the nickname.

Both agree that the nickname appeared to start on the excellent baseball website, ranyontheroyals.

Good to hear it wasn't shamelessly goinked from the blogohedron. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an important telegram for Magglio Ordoñez.

Whose Idea Was "The Mexicutioner?" [Over The Top/Kansas City Star]

In its storied and celebrated history as a landmark sporting green, the Big Ball Orchard In The South Bronx has seldom hosted an event on such a day of beastial, Equator-like temperature.

The Congo-esque climate may merely have been a preview of future days on our simmering marble, but for the moment, it was surely unusually torrid for this time of weddings and blooms. Bother the Bombers it did not, however, as the Enemy of Reason and Balance, as it has so often has down through the years, conjured a left-columner against all odds, winning 12-11 over a group of straightmen from Flyover Country (aka Kansas City), brought to Broadway to provide pathos to this particular drama.

It was gripping, ripping stuff once again at George Herman’s Crib. Two days before, a shocking, Ruthian skip away blow from Jason “All Apologies” Giambi gave the Stripes a famous victory, their best of the season to date (and another that stretched on to lengths that proved unendurable by many of the faithful, their collective patience and gluteus maximi worn out by the timeless nature of the sport). A mere two score and eight hours later, another Tolstoyan epic that will talked about far in the future, albeit a future that won’t involve actually attending games for most of Bomber fandom, as they will be unable to afford passage into the new Versailles of the Northern Borough.

Johnny “The Apeman” Damon vaulted into the Joycian franchise record book by smacking a clean half-dozen safeties, the first player ever to accomplish the feat in this hallowed construct astride the El. His ultimate knock off Kansan anchorman Joakim “The Red Devil” Soria plated the winner in the last of the last, and it was Sweaty Celebration time again for home Nine. The most shocking facet of the display wasn’t the sweet stroke or the uncanny placement of batted ball, but the fact that The Hirsute One managed to play at all after lopping off his Soup Strainer after a disreputable evening in the batting rectangle the night before. Demon Damon’s ‘Stache never made anyone forget Anson or Fasano, but the very idea that a base ball player could improve after shaving is anathema indeed.

Earlier in the eventful frame, Bronx Backstop Jorge “En Cuerpo Y Alma” Posada launched a Big Fly off the usually untouchable Senor Soria to deadbolt matters at the bankruptcy chapter. Georgie’s shot was perhaps the most stunning blow of the ardent afternoon, given his recent ails and month-long acceptance of disability benefits.

The evocation of Hector by these aging sluggers was necessitated by another jolt on a day full of such Cardiac jumpstarts—a Long Sock from the ash of David “Ivanhoe” DeJesus in the upper part of the final innings off the Sainted Concluder, the Man With The Golden Arm, The Cutty Sark himself, Mariano Rivera. A gasp could be heard over the roar of rushing sweat in the grandstand when the hide left the playing field with room to spare, so unlikely was the feat. Yet, Mo’ Better avoided a D, thanks to the gumption and interior fortitude of his batsmen mates.

The Monarchs from the Midwest are no strangers to swampy conditions, and they fashioned a sizable lead against Fun City twirler Andy “BFF” Pettitte. The Mishearing Moundsman was bashed for a month’s worth of tallies (it is this reporter’s duty to pass along to the reader the incredible total, ten—a number that caused several radio station recreationists to go silent in disbelief, rather than accept the figure passed down along the wire to them) in an unlucky seven innings, mainly due to a kicking mule wearing Royal Blue named Jose Guillen. “Mr. Clubhouse Incident” showed all witnesses why he is worth the colic he inspires, blasting an Exacta of round-trippers, including the Quadrophonic that sent Pettitte to a much-needed shower. Joey also treated Yankee baserunners like Mike Scioscia, gunning down a brace at the pentagon with guided-by-wire accuracy. On any other day, in any other place, he would have been the day’s David. But Aura and Mystique had accepted box seats despite the soaring temperature, and there simply was no pinning Team Blue-Chip to the mat.

A note on a brave man in blue—the game’s Chief Judge, Jerry “Sonar” Layne, was forced from the premises and into an ambulance after a wayward deflection off an ash collided with his skull. Fortunately, the adjudicators recently have taken to wearing Gladitorial faceplates to ward off terrible injury on such happenstances, and Mr. Layne escaped the sort of lobe damage that apparently has afflicted so many of his fellow moderators. Nevertheless, the accident bruised his brain, and, almost as bad, held up the contest for a quarter of an hour, chasing sane onlookers to the concession stands for copious amounts of sarsaparillas and lime rickeys.

The number of visits to this Pantheon of Base Balling Fame dwindles ever closer to the circle number, while the new, gilded yet ersatz monster slowly but surely arises next door. For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of passing through The Yankee Stadium gates into it’s Edenic interior, rest assured that it is an experience worthy of Hedone herself, a magical journey into timeless youth and wonder. The new edifice will carry the same name, and bring over the fabled façade and Monuments to the Greats (Gehrig, DiMaggio, Leitch, etc), but the unique, tangible history and memories of the Ball Park cannot be loaded onto a semi and hauled across the way.

The fear is that the construct set to debut next season will be a Monument only to Avarice, and the People’s Game will no longer be in evidence or affordable along the Harlem River. If the Prodigal Son, Biff Steinbrenner, does nothing else as the Big Cheese (and it is even money that he won’t), preservation of the blue-collared, broad-shouldered, full-throated ethic that made The Stadium the most famous in the land will be enough to earn The Garish Gent a place in Yankee Lore.

The interview stylings of José Guillen:

"Too many (bleep) babies here. They (bleep) don't know how to play the (bleep) game (bleep) and win the game right, the way it's supposed to be (bleep) played. (Bleep, bleep). And that's the problem (bleep) here. Now I (bleep) (bleep) know why this (bleep) organization's been (bleep) losing for a while. Now I know. [Manager Trey Hillman] cares more than anyone here about winning. That guy cares. Every single day. It's killing him. (Bleep). We've just got to be smart and know what we need to do to win (bleep) games. (Bleep) (Bleep). That's (bleep) it. There's too many (bleep) guys that won't do this, do that, like they've given up, like they don't care. (Bleep).''

Note: In that last sentence, he actually said the word "bleep."

Guillen declined to name players he felt were not doing their share. Hillman has come under fire lately for questionable late-game decisions, including leaving Joel Peralta in to face Justin "Island Of Dr." Morneau in the 10th after he had allowed Craig Monroe's pinch three-run homer in the ninth that tied it. Morneau hit a leadoff homer for the eventual winning run.

Here's a blow-by-blow account of the fateful ninth, as reported by the blog Royals Authority. Headline: Craptastic! Oh well, Kansas City, fear not: You are still home to Wizard Cat's favorite pro franchise.

• Can You Hear The Drums Fernando? (Alternate headline: Endy's Game). Endy Chavez hit his first home run in more than a year to tie it in the bottom of the ninth, and Fernando Tatis won it with a two-run double in the 12th as the Mets beat the Marlins 7-6. It was the first time this season that the Mets had won a game they trailed after eight innings.

• No Dice, Sox. (Alternate headline: Erik The Half-A-B). As Daisuke Matsuzaka heads off for a shoulder MRI (Robotic Monkey Arm! I need you now!), the Red Sox were shut out by the Mariners' Erik Bedard, 1-0. Yuniesky Betancourt homered for the only run. Bedard had given up nine runs in his previous start, against the Yankees, and had come in with seven straight losses.

• Who's The Boss? (Alternate headline: Mr. Redlegs' Wild Ride). David Ross homered in a six-run first, and rookie Jay Bruce (batting average .667) had a double and two walks in his second game in the majors as the Reds beat the Pirates 9-1. Fun fact: Cincinnati is undefeated at home (9-0) since Mr. Redlegs lost his head in that tragic ATV accident on May 7.

• What Is This, Soccer?. (Alternate headline: Eight Days A Weeks, I Loo-oo-o-oo-ove Ya). Another 1-0 outcome, as Rickie Weeks had a run-scoring triple in the eighth and Jeff Suppan "Sandwich" dominated over eight innings as the Brewers beat the Braves. Jo-Jo Reyes had given up only two hits and had retired 14 consecutive batters before giving up the run.

• Wizard Cat Defensive Player Of The Day. Curtis Granderson, Detroit Tigers. Noticing that Granderson had not been an everyday player, Wizard Cat worked an elaborate magic spell and got Jim Leyland to change his mind (may also have involved peeing on his smokes). Now Grandy's in the lineup every day, making diving catches like this one. For some reason you need an evil Windows plug-in to see the video, so enjoy the still photo if you don't want to bother. Wizard Cat gives this catch: Four wands.