Murray Chass, a once-great baseball reporter turned bitter crank, recently revealed his 2013 Hall of Fame ballot in a blog post in which he proudly stated that he did not vote for Craig Biggio or Mike Piazza because he believes that they used steroids. It was the kind of thing that was written specifically to rile up…
Blogging anti-blogger Murray Chass has written one of his patented half-lucid anti-blog blog posts about the Hall of Fame. Near the end of the post, he dodders over to the subject of his own voting habits. This one's a treat:
Murray Chass, senior writer for murraychass.com, recently threw heat at HOF Expansion Era committee member Tom Verducci for apparently voting against Marvin Miller. Verducci fired back, and thus the post became unique to the Chass oeuvre in that someone actually read it.
Because no one reads the newspaper, and SportsCenter's anchors are too perky for this early in the morning, Deadspin combs the best of the broadsheets and internets to bring you everything you need to know to start your day.
Joe Morgan may be gone, but his ignorant spirit lives on. Murray Chass and Phil Rogers wonder how in the world Hernandez could be the best pitcher if he didn't have the most wins. Yes, we're still having this damn discussion.
Murray Chass is still writing a blog about how he hates blogs. It's pretty delightful, in an Away from Her kind of way. Sometimes he even writes about baseball. He's usually wrong. Let's say "fuck" a bunch!
What would an FJM reunion be without the mocking of an ancient, stat-hating, online weblog writer who insists that his online weblog is not a blog?
This week's Deadcast guest is Selena Roberts, the author of A-Rod and columnist for SI. Did you know Selena is the daughter of hoboes? It's true!
The armchair Kakutanis of the world have weighed in on Selena Roberts' bildungsroman, and their verdict is a resounding "nay." This apparently has something to do with, you guessed it, the Duke lacrosse rape case.
Jeff Pearlman's "The Rocket That Fell To Earth" extinguishes the leftover burning embers of Roger Clemens' baseball dignity in one big 320-page stomp. But Mike Piazza won't be pleased with this book either.