The President, he’s got his war
Folks don’t know just what it’s for
Nobody gives us rhyme or reason
Have one doubt, they call it treason
We’re chicken-feathers, all without one nut. Damn it!
Tryin’ to make it real — compared to what?
I was going to try to write this piece without using the phrase, “Fuck You, Bud.” Because “Fuck You, Bud” is crass and “Fuck You, Bud” is simple and “Fuck You, Bud” isn’t specific – it could be a reaction to any of the mindless and dimwitted decisions he’s made in his regime. But “Fuck You, Bud” is inevitable and “Fuck You, Bud” is to the point – even poetic – so I’ll do my best to incorporate “Fuck You, Bud” somewhere in here. But definitely not in the lede, that’s for sure. Or the title.
Now for something hyperbolic.
A meteor hurls slowly toward earth, immovable and foreboding, its path and intentions equally clear. You can see it if you squint your eyes and you can smell it if you flare your nostrils. It’s been there for months, and those who know of its existence and significance can do nothing but stare at it, day after day, hoping against hope. Because, really, there’s nothing you can do about it.
Then one day at work you hear a thunderous BOOM! and your fears are confirmed. Not only did the meteor hit – it landed with calculated precision, right on top of your fucking house. Your home, your memories, your dog, your past, present and future – all destroyed.
Then you discover Bud Selig created this putrid meteor in his bowels and shit it out his ass.
Fuck You, Bud.
Why us?
It’s simple, really.
Those who accept the DH see no reason for complaint. If you accept that the DH is a legitimate MLB practice, switching leagues for “balance” is nothing if not preferable. 14 teams in the AL embrace it – the Office of the Commissioner of Major League Baseball celebrates it – so what’s the big deal?
Add that thinking to the impending sale of a low-ratings baseball team with no World Series titles and it’s easy to find a solution to a manufactured problem. And hey – Nolan thinks the Rangers need a geographic rival! Let’s give it to him! To quote a quote from Dick-Fucking-Justice, “I spoke to Nolan Ryan,” the official said, “and he’s really excited. He thinks it’s going to be a very good thing.”
Ok so what the fuck is it, Bud? Competitive imbalance between the leagues? Or is it that Lynn Nolan is tiring of your teat and wants a fresh one?
Even IF you can look past these motivations – Bud totally Seligged this deal. He dragged a prospective owner – one who’s willing to pony up $680M for a last place team – through the muck to get here. Bud’s accusations of Crane’s shady business tactics were just that – shady business tactics, employed just so he could drop a steamy growler down the necks of Astros fans while we switched figureheads. Thanks for making this transition seamless, Bud, you fucking halfwit. It’s not like Astros fans haven’t put up with enough bullshit lately. And while I’m talking directly to you, Fuck You, Bud.
What now?
No more rivalries. No more meaningful Cardinals games. No more meaningful Cubs games. No more Dodgers or Mets or Braves or Giants. And yes, we despise many of these teams, but it’s a competitive emotion that’s tied directly to our love of playing and defeating them. The Astros will play them again, but it won’t be the same.
Congratulations, you now get to form a baseless hatred of the A’s and Angels and Mariners. I’ll assume I know where you stand on the Rangers.
Fewer sac bunts and sac flies. Fewer double-switches. Less pitcher-accountability. AL ball is dumbed-down, chicks-dig-the-long-ball marketing bullshit that leans on power and luck instead of strategy and planning.
Congratulations, you now get to overpay a one-talent fatass to sit on the bench 95% of every game.
But I’m just reciting facts here, nothing you don’t know or haven’t already lamented.
Daddy, what’s the NL?
My kids, who’re too young to understand baseball, will grow up AL fans. Fuck me, I’ll be watching with them. Houston baseball fans will become like Dallas baseball fans, but, you know, not as douchey. And life will go on. Some fans will accept it, some won’t, even more won’t even notice.
But that doesn’t cleanse Bud Selig, Jim Crane and Drayton McClane of their sins. We didn’t fucking ask for this. We don’t fucking want it and it’s not fucking necessary. It’s a pointless attempt to quench a drowning man’s thirst for balance, and our departing and incoming owners brought a bucket each.
Despite Bud’s best efforts, MLB wasn’t broken. For Astros fans, it is now. And if Bud’s lifelong dream to implement MLB-wide DH and year-round interleague play comes to pass, I won’t be the only one saying,
Fuck you, Bud.
I should make a fucking t-shirt.