Tuesday, February 17

Sal's Family Tree Does Not Extend That Far

Hey pals. It's me. Sal.

Now Sal knows he ain't been around in a while but he felt the need to let all of his fans know somethin' very important.

What Sal wants you to know ain't got nothin' to do wit' his new team (can't say which) though Sal is happier than a cat wit' a pet canary about that. Yep, ol' Sallie got another shot at the bigs and the only thing standin' in his way are two fellas wit' what have to be fake names. Sal is pretty sure those crazy names are just made-up to fool the government or somethin' so Sal should have a job soon...the feds gotta catch up wit' one of them in the next month or so.

Now, Sal knows that - on occasion - he was known to sing "Lazy Sunday" around the clubhouse. That that sketch was crazy funny. Sal still loves it. And Red Vines, too.

At one point in the song Sal would yell "I told you that I love these cupcakes, cousin." Sal would do this because that's how the song goes.

Sometimes Sal did this in the locker room. Sal did this no matter who was around at the time. Sometimes Sal yelled the line directly to people. For laughs. Because it's crazy funny. But the fact that Sal yelled this at someone does not mean that the person in question is necessarily a relative of Sal.

What Sal's tryin' to say is: he is not the cousin of a certain purple-lipped superstar.

So don't be callin' Sal. Sal didn't do no injectin'. Sal don't even know what "Boli" is. Sounds like a made up name for a catcher on the run from the law.

In the meantime, Sal wants you to know he's back. And to you his readers he just wants to say...





(Editor's note: Sal took a drink of water here)





thank you.

Thursday, June 14

Sal Solemnly Addresses His Fans

Here's the straight talk comin': Four weeks and seven days ago our GM brought forth, upon this maple syrup-eatin' city, a new catcher, conceived in benchwarmin' and dedicated to the proposition that "all mustaches are not created equal."

Now Sal is engaged in a great designation of assignment, testing whether that maple syrup-eatin' city, or any city so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great ballfield of that designation of assignment. Sal has come to kiss goodbye a portion of it, as a final restin' place for the call-up that died here, that the maple syrup-eatin' city might live. This we may, in all pissed-offness, do. But in a larger sense, we cannot benchwarm, we cannot let balls pass, we cannot bat .045, on this ground. The brave players, livin' and traded, who struggled here, have hallowed it, far above Sal's poor power to the gap. The baseball world will little note, nor long remember what Sal says here; while it can never forget the fu manchu Sal grew here.

It is rather for Sal, the designated for assignment, that he here be dedicated to the great task remainin' before him--that from these honored players we take increased devotion to takin' extra battin' practice--that Sal here highly resolve that these 25 men shall not have lost tons of games in vain, that this maple syrup-eatin' city shall have a new birth of winnin', and that baseball of the bluebirds, by the bluebirds, for the bluebirds shall not perish from the earth.

Tuesday, May 29

Sal Hits a New Low

Hey, folks. Sal realizes he ain't been writin' much lately and he thought he owed you, his loyal readers, an explanation as to why.

See, the other day Sal bottomed out. He did something that he ain't too proud of.

Let's get something out there right away: Sal know he ain't the greatest player in the league, or on his team, or - on some days - in the stands. So Sal has learned to live wit' a bit of jeerin' and fun-makin' and the occasional wisenheimerin' at Sal's expense. But two days ago Sal had enough.

Here's the straight-talk comin': Sal has no problem wit' some jocularizin' from his teammates. It's character buildin'. He also has no problem wit' a little bit of lampoonin' from the fellas on the other team. The umps can tease Sal, the fans can heckle. But one guy...one guy got no right to say stuff to Sal or to mock Sal or to even do a little bit of Sal parodyin'.

And two days ago this guy did it.

He came out of the dugout wit' a fake fu manchu and pillows in his shirt. Then he did some strike-out feignin'. This got Sal steamed. Sal lost control. He beat the guy. Kicked him. Did some bat-bludgeonin'. Then the worst thing happened.

Sal ripped his head off.

This ain't no joke, Pals. Sal did it...and once the authorities catch wind of it, Sal may be headin' for the Big House.

If you don't believe Sal, here are some pictures of his victim.


Sal's not sure why he stuck around to take a picture before fleein', but he did. Anyways, if anybody out there is willin' to put up some bail money - let Sal know. Backup catchers don't make as much as some of them other fellas.

Saturday, May 5

Sal Chases Aaron

Just 708 left to go.

Wednesday, April 25

Sal Demonstrates Quiet Dignity and Grace

Hey, folks. It's your pal, "Big League" Sal.

"Big League" Sal thought his name deserved a little spicin' up, considerin' the excitin' events of the day. You bloggin' types can just keep callin' Sal, Sal, though. You've been with "Big League" Sal through thick and thin, and "Big League" Sal don't forget his friends.

For those of you who haven't been watchin' the wire, "Big League" Sal is sittin' in a Major League clubhouse again! Now, as one of the baseball brethren, Sal certainly doesn't like the fact that he's sittin' here because another guy went down, but when one backstop can't keep stoppin', another backstop will be there to do the stoppin' for him. That's part of the Backstop's Code, and it's somethin' that "Big League" Sal takes very seriously. Plus, "Big League" Sal was hittin' the crap out of the ball down in the Trips and, let's face it, is returnin' to where he belongs.

Now, as "Big League" Sal's sittin' here, waitin' to take some hittin' practice, he can't help but notice the ironicalness of this particular turn of events. Not only is "Big League" Sal returnin' to The Show, but he's returnin' to a place that provides him with plenty of memories. This here city is one of "Big League" Sal's old stompin' grounds. (Nope, Pals, "Big League" Sal's still not spillin' the beans on which stompin' ground it is! It's like a little game "Big League" Sal gets a kick out of playin'!)

So, why is "Big League" Sal so excited to be back here, you ask? The city that went runnin' when Sal went lookin' for a job? Well, Pals, it's really pretty simple.

Here's the straight talk comin': "Big League" Sal is glad to be back playin' on the field he used to do his playin' on because he wants all those guys to kiss his big black butt!

That's right! "Big League" Sal is back to right a wrong. You know what happens when you turn your back on a backstop, folks? He comes back with intentions on hauntin' you.

"Big League" Sal has tried to be cool...buyin' a train, runnin' for public office, pickin' up strange guys and givin' 'em a helpin' hand, but really he's been waitin' for the chance to squat behind that pinstriped plate and take a "Big League" dump on it.

You know the sayin' about payback, Pals? Well, as one of "Big League" Sal's favorite sexually ambiguous performers once sang, "The b#tch is back!"

These guys ain't gonna know what hit (or caught) 'em.

Viva la fu.

Sal Screams in Ecstasy

Friday, April 20

Sal Corrects A Common, and Unfortunate, Misconception

Hey, folks. It's your pal, Sal.

Considerin' the way ol' Sallie's been hittin' the ball down in "the Trips" (that's what we sometimes-big-leaguers call Triple A ball), and what's goin' on up there in "the Bigs" (that's what we sometimes-minor-leaguers call the Major Leagues) with one sweet-swingin' third baseman from the Big Apple, Sal feels it's only right to clarify somethin'.

Here's the straight talk comin': Sal always knew that A-Rod was a god among men and should be treated as such. This fuckin' guy is on fire.

Now, some of you readers of this here blog may point to some earlier postin' in reference to A-God. Like this one, or this one.

Really, Sal's a little disappointed in all of you bloggin'-perusin' types. Can't you tell when a guy's tryin' to be ironical? By sayin' those things, Sal was just stressin' how untrue those things really were.

Plus, the idea that those posts were actually about A-God is purely speculatory, since Sal was smart enough to use clever nicknames to get around any potential legal action.

C'mon, Pals. Join Sal in treatin' A-Rod with the clutchy, grit-spittin' respect he deserves.

Saturday, April 7

Sal Celebrates His Peers

Hey folks. Many of you have been askin' ol' Sallie for an update on how his minor league season is goin' so far. Well, the truth is...

Sal is tearin' it up.

Don't just take Sal's word for it, though - check the stats. Look at that there OPS! Sal is well on his way to breakin' the record.

All of this dominatin' has got Sal to thinkin', though. Why is it that Sal is so crazy good in the minors...and he stinks like mid-summer jockstraps in the majors? Well, the answer is simple.

Sal is a textbook Quadruple-A player.

See this means Sal is just way too good for AAA, but he can't quite cut it in the Show. And Sal ain't alone. There have been many a-Quadruple A-ers over these here years and Sal thinks it's about time we celebrate these fellas. So, Sal has decided to create...


Here are the first few fellas Sal has inducted:


This here fella hit 196 HRs in the minors. But he only managed to hit 15 in the bigs and even big Sallie managed to jack a few more than that.

But, The guy did have a kick-ass nickname goin' for him. Sal wishes he was around to make the Fruity Pebbles jokes. Crazy funny.


Sal wasted a lot of money on all of this here fellas rookie cards.

To be fair, Sal does realize this here fella actually had a pretty good major-league career, battin' .289 and all...but Sal heard all of the hype what with the swingin' underwater and the "hey, who needs Wally Backman" and, again, Sal wasted a lot of money on his cards. So Sal is bitter.


Continuin' on the "money wasted on rookie cards" trend, this here fella was supposed to be a power hitter but he only hit 9 more taters (Sal means home runs not taters like potatoes, because why would a fella want to hit a potato?) than Sal has so far.

Phillies fans expected more from him just because of his pedigree alone, what with him bein' the son of Ozzie and Harriet.


This here fella holds the record for most home runs hit in the minors, though for some reason Sal can't find any record of it. Sal has heard rumors that Crash was so upset about not makin' it in the show that he went psycho-nuts and moved to Iowa. Then he built a baseball field where there shoulda been corn, made a comeback wit' the Tigers, and arrested a mobster. The guy's done some stuff.

So that's it. You folks can send in nominations for the next induction ceremony. And keep an eye on big Sallie's OPS.