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Snooker is an interesting game. Somtimes the shot is clear as day, unobstructed with only green felt laying between man, stick, ball and pocket. More often than not, though, there are other balls in the way and an opponent can block access. Each shot changes the dynamic of the table and players can expertly manipulate the ball by spinning it a certain way to set up future moves. So, not only is there skill in hitting the ball with the cue, but knowledge of geometry and physics is paramount. There are many similarities between snooker and baseball. Players from each sport use a stick to hit a ball. The opponent can affect your shot by putting you in difficult situations. While snooker is about angles, spin and location, baseball has spin rate and location of pitches with launch angle from batters. Both are a cat-and-mouse contest with adjustments constantly being made to get an edge. Which leads me to Brent Rooker of the Oakland Athletics. He was the darling of the early season, slashing .353/.465/.779 with nine home runs in the first 86 plate appearances of the season. Over the last month, though, he’s slashing .196/.291/.320 with two home runs in 110 plate appearances. As a result, he was the most dropped player in ESPN leagues over the past week. What adjustments have pitchers made and is there hope going forward?

Please, blog, may I have some more?

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Usually I try and write up a funny intro filled with anecdotes. I’m strictly about the business today. This may or may not be due to some lady cutting me off big time while I was driving my kids to school. Anyways, Christopher Morel has been all the rage this past week. And for good reason, as he smashed four home runs in seven games and has batted 3rd, leadoff, and leadoff in the last three contests. This has prompted people to make it rain at the Club de FAAB. Don’t mind the scraggly looking guy with the sign outside Club de FAAB that reads: The World is Ending. Find Jesus. That’s just me bringing doom and gloom to the party.

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Wolves hunt in packs and do not rely on the element of surprise when attacking their prey. Each wolf has their role, as some chase while others surround. The end goal is to eat. The Rangers are one of the top offenses in MLB, being second in runs scored, eighth in home runs, second in RBI, sixth in batting average, sixth in SLB and fourth in OPS. Oh, they eating all right. Over the years, they have brought in hitters with excellent plate discipline (Corey Seager and Marcus Semien) but they still get googly eyes for the wild child, power/speed combo players. Think Adolis Garcia. For transparency, I wrote a piece earlier this season to fade Garcia. I’m not a smart man. Garcia has made massive improvements in the plate discipline and could the same trajectory be in store for one Ezequiel Duran, who has been scorching hot and possesses a similar profile to the Garcia of the past?

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It’s crazy when people drive slow in the left-most lane on the freeway. It’s crazy that people spend over $5 everyday for coffee when the Korean instant coffee packs come out to like $.20 each. They are delicious, by the way. It’s crazy that Razzball is not the most visited website on the internet. It’s crazy that people don’t consider Shohei Ohtani the greatest baseball player we have ever seen. It’s crazy that….Luis Robert Jr. has been dropped in 10.2% of ESPN leagues over the past week? Is that so cray cray? Let’s dig in. 

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Outside of the day I got married, the birth of my kids and the first time Grey commented on one of my pieces for Razzball, the two months of Linsanity back in 2012 were the greatest two months of my life. This past month of Lynnsanity has been one of the most painful months of my life. Lance Lynn has made five starts, served up batting practice for 26 1/3 innings and posted a 7.52 ERA so far in the 2022-23 season. Good times. It is often said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. So is the life of Lynnsanity. But do we capitulate or do we make William Wallace proud and hold?

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I feel like such a dope anytime someone sends me a message written in acronymoglyphs. Sure, I know LOL. I’m not a complete moron but everything else has me going to the good ole Google machine. Even then, I have questions. Do I click on Urban Dictionary or not? The prudent thing is usually to eschew UD but I need the street cred. So, to exhibit my proficiency in acronymoglyphs, this post will be dedicated to my new creation: A. S. S. Anthony Santander Sucks. The beauty of this acronym is that it can be used in a sentence: Anthony Santander sucks A. S. S. He’s the 574th player on the Razzball Player Rater. To be fair, Santander has not always sucked but he’s sucking A. S. S. so far this season, which has led 12.1% of owners in ESPN leagues to drop him. Who’s going to be the A. S. S. at the end of the season?

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Michaelangelo’s statue of David is arguably the most famous statue in existence. Korean bus tours ferry their customers to gawk at it, so you know it’s famous beyond famous. Giorgio Vasari, a renowned Renaissance painter himself, said this about the statue of David:

“When all was finished, it cannot be denied that this work has carried off the palm from all other statues, modern or ancient, Greek or Latin; no other artwork is equal to it in any respect, with such just proportion, beauty and excellence did Michelagnolo finish it”

The David I’m going to be talking about in this piece is far from perfection. In fact, his imperfections are so apparent that the boy from the Mask, not the Jim Carrey one but the Cher one, has become more confident. This David whom I write of is David Villar of the San Francisco Giants. Here’s why I think he has some utility.

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The beginning of any fantasy season is the most wonderful time of the year. After mental masturbating over rosters, listening to pods, and reading prognostication after prognostication, the little white ball finally travels from mound to plate, and the live scoring flickers and lights up the screen. We fantasy nerds latch onto every play and either go into bouts of depression when the players we mentally masturbated over all offseason do not perform, or victory lap without clothes when our “guys” exceed even our most erotic dreams and desires. After about a month, the honeymoon period ends and the true grind begins. Until then, though, there will be overreactions galore, for better or for worse, ’till death do us part. On April 1st, Trayce Thompson went 3-for-4 with uno, dos, tres homeruns and 8 RBI. Brother Klay Thompson did not play on that night, so Trayce took care of all the treys for the Thompson family. He was on SportsCenter all day and all night. Now, most of you will not and have not fallen for the banana in the tailpipe, but he was scooped up by close to 15% of owners in ESPN leagues. NFBC owners were not immune either, as Thompson is now rostered on 18% of teams. Even though I have assumptions about many things, I do like to do my due diligence….just in case.

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Throughout this preseason, I have dived deep into the trash bin, trying to unearth some diamands in the…smelly trash. Ewwwww. P. U. The things I do for y’all. Before I continue, I have to give a shoutout to Laura, for she is the deep league specialist, and I recommend that you all read her work if you don’t already. Now, I like to have some semblance of balance in my life, so I’m going to flip my world upside down, don the hater cap, and throw internet tomatoes on a player who I feel has a chance to disappoint this season. I got no shame in my game, as I’m playing don’t pass at the table if I sense a disturbance in the Force. The stink eye I get from the others ain’t no thing. So, I’m prepared for the internet tomatoes that will more than likely be thrown my way, but such is the life of a hater. 

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After 40 days and 40 nights of rain in Los Angeles, a respite finally arrived, so I slipped on the Vans and ventured out. The birds were chirping, the fresh after-storm smell was pungent, the sun was glistening off the puddles on the ground, and the Vans were getting soaked because Son is an idiot. As I walked in a trance-like state, I was brought back to reality when a car zoomed around the corner as I was about to step into the crosswalk. Furious, and about to fire off a salvo of expletives, I hesitated because I heard giggling. Not the teenage girl giggling that I’m scared to death of hearing when my daughter gets to the age. No, this was unadulterated joyous and free giggling. I looked left. I looked right. I looked down. Why did I look down? Anyways, I finally triangulated where the sound was coming from with my bat-like abilities. My eyes finally calibrated to expose a meadow, not one flush with green grass and blooming flowers. No, this Austin Meadows may be made of glass but could provide plenty of power. And he’s cheap! Let’s dig in.

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This could be my last baseball post at Razzball. If so, it’s been real and you all shall be missed. The reason why I have my head on a swivel and hear Grey’s cackles reverberting through my dome constantly is because I write up players he hates. In addition, I may be committing the cardinal sin being a writer at Razzball as this post is about a catcher! Yeah, I done F’d up. But such is the life of being the trash man at Razzball. It’s a thankless job but someone has to do it. Last week, I brought you riveting analysis of one Mike Yastrzemski. This week? Another Yas shall be written about: Yasmani Grandal. I am impervious to those internet tomatoes being thrown at my head because I’ve got my helmet on. Suck it! 

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This is a story as old as time. You enter the draft with the fervor of a hormone-raged teenager while donning a cap with YOLO embroidered on the front. Outfield? It’s super deep. Let me handle my business with the rest of the squad. So, you’ve got one hand on the steering wheel while the other is trying to find some good tunes on the radio as you cruise down the fantasy draft highway. The windows are down and the wind blows the hair into Picasso art. Round marker after round marker whizz by, then a dread encompasses the cabin of the car like a nasty fart; I need outfielders. With leagues requiring five outfielders, the once vast player pool dissipates quickly like a Sahara watering hole during the summer. One name that is often dredged up is Mike Yastrzemski. He is far from sexy and there’s a reason he’s in the dredges in the first place, but is he trash or a diamond in the rough?

Please, blog, may I have some more?