Stocking Stuffers

I have been keeping up the ol' Studly Pastures blog for over four years now, I've watched sports much longer than that, and I've even been paid in legal tender for some of the things I have written and I honestly cannot sit here and tell you why Robinson Cano deserves $240 million.

Take that $240 million, halve it, then halve it again, then halve it two more times and that's what I would pay a 31-year old second baseman over two years.  I'm obviously a huge proponent of sabermetrics because I follow the Tampa Bay Rays and I thought that the Seattle Mariners were trying to be scholars of the same train of thought but then they just throw us a wicked googly like this and I just...I just...don't get it!  I don't get it!  Take that money, invest it in pitching and solid defense and on-base percentage and now you've just taken a small-market team and made them competitive in a big-market team world.  Take that money, invest it in one guy and you've sunk your battleship.  You're just begging for a disaster, aren't you?  What if he gets hurt?  What if he has a down year?  What if, God forbid, he starts declining in every major statistical category like most ballplayers do after 30?

The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim Southeast of San Francisco and west of Last Vegas, Nevada have taken the liberty of making colossal failures of huge contracts for you, Seattle, and you chose to ignore them even though they are in your same division!  Albert Pujols and Josh Hamilton were the lucky recipients of great agents and a terrible precedent for a free-agent market in Major League Baseball.  And the Angels were victims of both and the men in charge of making those deals no longer have any hair or functional livers.

Not you, Seattle.  You had to painfully part with your boy, Ichiro.  You salvaged enough money to lock up Felix Hernandez.  You bought bargain basement players so you could plan for the future.  You had a PLAN, Seattle, I know you did!  Then one night you got drunk and went out and had a little too much fun and when you woke up in the morning there was a 31-year old Dominican man in your bed and he wants breakfast, you naive jerks.

For your stocking stuffer, Seattle Mariners, you get a copy of Moneyball.  DVD, not Blueray.  Sit there and watch how Brad Pitt wheels and deals irrelevant names for other irrelevant names and is successful but never wins anything meaningful just like sabermetrics has proven thus far.



As always, if I was trying to be a successful sports blogger, I would never bother with mentioning the US men's soccer team because there's probably like a whole two of you that actually care about the next words that appear on your screen but then again here we are.

I love soccer and I love the US men's soccer team and I stand up for them even when they don't deserve it.  They're like my fictional son that sucks at sports but is out there every single day trying his little heart out and just not squaring up at all with the other kids.  And after every match I take him out for ice cream and he's really proud of himself for trying and I just sit there trying not to let him see my shame and I'm secretly glad he had to settle for strawberry because they were out of mint and chocolate chip.

With that said, the US team got hosed today for the World Cup draw.  Our opponents?  Oh just some no-name countries that never play soccer because they're great economically and stuff.  Ghana, Portugal, and Germany.  Are you kidding me?  Talk about a total non-invite.  If you didn't want us to come to your party, you could have just said so, Brazil!

I know a lot of readers won't take the time to wikipedia a lot of the soccer jargon I use in this blog so I'll help you out and secretly tell you it's never good to be in something dubbed the "group of death".  They call it that because the World Cup doesn't start until next July and we've already been given our 'Participant' ribbons.

For your stocking stuffer, US men's soccer team, you get the board game, Risk.  It's a strategic board game of world domination and NOBODY can take that away from you.  Get 'em, boys!



In the NFL world, Gary Kubiak was mercifully fired today as head coach of the Houston Texans and that's honestly best for him and his health.  If you truly love something you set it free and that's exactly what Houston is doing for their fans this year by making Wade Phillips the interim head coach.  Look, Kubiak had to go, that much was clear, but I wouldn't make Wade Phillips the interim 'puzzled look while hands on hips guy' and he's really, really good at that.

I feel partially responsible for Kubiak's departure because I picked Houston to go to the Super Bowl this year and that's basically a kiss of death.  And I would be sad for him but he's going to get a nice coordinator job next year that's less demanding and it will be great for his health and his kids won't have to spend Christmas at the Phillips' household and I'm thankful for that because we all know that's gotta be really, really disgusting.  I heard he likes to sacrifice a live pig and let the blood flow down his naked chest.  I just shuddered and gagged at the same time.

Houston isn't very good this year.  In fact, they're pretty terrible.  They made Jacksonville look decent enough and they won't even sign Tebow to stay relevant.  So the Houston Texans did what the NFL demands from losers trying to get better and that's to start completely over from scratch and be out of contention for at least the next four years, if you're lucky.  Does the rhetoric that you get rid of the highest titled and most recognized figure to get better as a whole fly in any other scenario than medieval times?  It's only a revolution if you win.

For your stocking stuffer, Gary Kubiak, you get a very polite and official interview as offensive coordinator for the Washington Redskins next year!  You deserve it, you're just the scapegoat, and you'll probably still end up being a quarterbacks coach or something equally demeaning.



Finally, I'm like a lot of you right now playing in all of the fantasy football playoffs that aren't worth anything other than pride and bragging rights.  While those things are cool, I too like cold hard cash and am very ashamed at myself for not making it where it really counts.  Stop for a minute for a 'that's what she said' joke.

Let me remind you fantasy players that March Madness is pretty much right around the corner and this year we get to do a World Cup bracket too and both of those things are crap shoots.  So rejoice, fellow failures, and know that blind luck could possibly be in your favor fairly shortly.

For your stocking stuffer, fantasy football playoff miss-outs, I give you false hope.  Hey, at least it's something.