NL East

Philadelphia Phillies

– Same thing that happened last year, huh? Okay, well, the Phillies are just a monster of a franchise right now, though I believe this is the beginning of the twilight of their era. (Which makes Cole Hamels the era’s Bella, I believe.) The NL East belonged to the Braves for so long, it’s easy to forget it’s every bit as difficult to compete in — financially speaking — as the vaunted AL East, especially now that Montreal has presto chango’d into Washington, D.C. Roy Halladay was indeed a coup, and the pitching will probably be this franchise’s dominant weapon as it crumbles back to Earth, which is quite a contrast from its rise to power on batting. It seems that this is a typical trajectory, actually: team finds success with overwhelming offense, wins pennants with a good balance, continues to visit the playoffs thanks to good pitching, signs an overly expensive free agent, then enters either a death spiral or a quick two-year rebuild phase depending on market size. Someone should do a study on that. Anyway, the Phillies. Polanco and Ibanez are the only two soft spots in the lineup, and even they were financial steals so one can’t fault the Phils for running them out there. Bullpen? Yep, the final standing on the podium all comes down to bullpen. Enjoy the playoffs, Philadelphia. I don’t think the pennant is yours this time.

Atlanta Braves

– Here come the Tomahawks. I think Nate McClouth was one of the stealthiest offseason acquisitions in all of baseball (right up there with Harden) in terms of actual roster improvement, and if the hype about Heyward-Jablome is real, this could be an actual monster lineup, give or take a first baseman. If the Phillies weren’t so damn hard to bet against on paper, I would be bolder and predict a darkhorse run for the division from Atlanta. As it is, they’ll make it hard for the West to claim the Wild Card spot again, which will only add flavor to the fantastic race shaping up out there. The bullpen is probably better looking on paper than on the field, but what’s a Braves team without an immensely talented closer with inexplicable weaknesses? That tradition dates back to Mark Wohlers, maybe even further. Here’s hoping Billy Wagner doesn’t come out the racist closet like some other Brave Souls from the past. Oh, and I hate everything about Chipper Jones: he reminds me of Matt Damon, he’s a sort of copycat Todd Helton (depending on where you stand on chickens and eggs), and he still rocks chin fuzz like it’s time to put Limp Bizkit on the jukebox.

New York Mets

– The way the Mets get dogged in the media, you’d think they were the Knicks and not an occasionally successful franchise with superstar players and more money than Frank McCourt’s divorce attorney. Yes, they tend to overpay for theoretically marquee talent, and yes, they seem suspiciously susceptible to injuries (the way Tony LaRussa teams seem suspiciously susceptible to post-career Congressional hearings), but this is a damn strong lineup. Johan Santana is still an ace to be reckoned with, David Wright and Jason Bay are big leaguers in the Wheaties sense of the word, and I’m not entirely sold that Francisco Rodriguez is a mirage. That said, there are holes, including the continued insistence that Carlos Beltran will someday be healthy and/or amazing. When I saw Gary Matthews’ headshot in the depth chart, I could have sworn they signed his dad, so he might be past whatever mediocre prime he had. And the rest of the starting lineup has names that are bigger than they should be, with ERAs to match. Still, a .500 team is not a Knicksian disaster, New York. You would have thought the, er, Knicks would have shown you the difference by now.

Florida Marlins

– Let’s hear it for the boys in teal! Another year, another season of storied baseball in one of the majors’ most fanatic markets. I can already hear the turnstiles spinning for what promises to be a lineup of legends. There’s no way the tremendous talents of Hanley Ramirez and Josh Johnson will go unappreciated in this mecca by the sea, the House That Gary Sheffield Built. I can already picture the television cutaways to longtime Marlin devotees scratching their inimitable notations on old fashioned scorecards as Fredi Gonzalez brings out another fresh, breathtaking talent from the bullpen. I can hear the murmured water cooler conversations in office buildings across Miami the day after the entire city plays hookie for the home opener, discussing the potential of Cameron Maybin to win a batting title someday, or the workmanlike pinch hitting of Emilio Bonifacio. Yes, baseball in America means baseball in South Florida, no doubt about it. It’s traditions like this — not to mention two World Championships in every fan’s living memory — that make baseball the national pasttime. I know I’ll be tuning in when they visit Wrigley Field, if only to see how many rabid Florida fans show up in full black-and-teal gear to drown out the apathetic dregs of Cubs Nation.

Washington Nationals

– For a second, during the first pitch of the first game of the Washingtonian’s season, I had hope. Hope that this year would be different. Hope that the red-white-and-blue-of-arbitrary-importance would turn the corner to see a new day. A new dawn. A new America. Then I realized it was just a ceremonial pitch by Barack Obama, and that even he would rather be on the South Side of Chicago than anywhere near what passes for baseball in the nation’s capital. I mean, this is a team that actually signed Willy Taveras. On purpose! Ryan Zimmerman, Adam Kennedy and Adam Dunn look like they’re ready to take on any competition in a beer pong tournament, but that’s about where the intimidation factor ends. Yep, Strasbourg. But this ain’t hockey. You can’t Ovechkin your way out of misery via a good draft pick in baseball. (See: Kansas City.) You need a front office that knows what it’s doing, and that’s not equated to a front office that believes Ivan Rodriguez will put them over the hump. Enjoy that stadium, D.C. Sure, you probably wanted better public school funding or more cops instead, but watching the Nationals is a safe way to become educated in the lessons of failure. And there’s a 50/50 chance that Congress will decide the franchise is too big to fail and give the fans a bailout.

NL Central

Milwaukee Brewers

— They’re going to have to make some in-season trades to make this work, but the Brew Crew has what it takes to unseat St. Louis. Prince Fielder and Ryan Braun can stare down Albert Pujols and Matt Holliday without blinking. That rotation is sneaky good, without any obvious 20-game winner or Cy Young candidate, but more longevity and less injury risk than the one in red down the Mississippi. Also, never underestimate a franchise’s desire to perform during its 40th anniversary season. (Wait, or was that always underestimate? Baseball can be so confusing with all these numbers.) I think Carlos Gomez was a great pickup, and hopefully Jim Edmonds won’t eat up too much playing time — then again, considering how they deployed Jason Kendall almost every night, you can’t trust the Brewers. Still, as I’m about to explain, if the season is a very long sixth-inning sausage race, St. Louis is more like to trip and fall than Milwaukee. Division clinched.

St. Louis Cardinals

— For all the kudos Dave Duncan gets, nobody ever mentions how alarmingly frequent it is for a Cardinals season to be derailed by pitching injury. Whatever magic he works, it seemingly comes at a price. (And if he’s that magical, why is Rick Ankiel now an outfielder with the Royals? Black magic?) Last year, things more or less held together. This year, I predict doom for at least one starter. The lineup, once you get past the PB&J of awesome that is Pujols-Holliday, is filled with players like Colby Rasmus and Skip Schumaker. In other words, scrubs. I think the Cards know what they’re doing, and thus will win more series than they lose, but this recent dominance of the Central is a mirage built on the coconut tree of the Greatest Hitter of the 21st Century So Far (suck it, ARod and Barretired Bonds). The Central is too weak this year for St. Louis to do any worse than second place. The Brewers are probably too good for them to do any better.

Cincinnati Reds

— I can’t really explain this pick other than a gut feeling that the Reds have to surface above .500, if only for a season, before sinking back into the quagmire of bad ownership. That’s a really nice pitching staff, too nice to be worse than the bottom-feeders lurking below (sorry, Cubs). And that’s all I have to say about the Queen City. Hunches are hard to write about.

Chicago Cubs

— New owners! A healthy Derrek Lee! A decent payroll! What could possibly go wrong? Well, I think Zambrano is finished as a top-tier pitching threat, Carlos Silva ain’t never going to walk just 8 batters all season again, Soriano is old enough to remember playing with both Jeter and ARod before they were on the same team, Geovany Soto is such a tease that high school boys don’t think he’s worth the effort to ask to prom, Fukudome is just a funny name now, and the middle infield is riddled with French Canadians. The last time the Cubs relied on Montreal for offense, Andre Dawson was a force in the league. In fact, I think the Cubs need to do a full rebuild pretty soon here. To put a pessimistic turn on sportdom’s most optimistic phrase, if you think the Cubs are disappointing this season, just wait till next year.

Pittsburgh Pirates

— The Pirates will probably be baseball’s only happy fifth-place team, just because of the alignment quirk that gives them someone to look down on for once. In fact, until we eradicate the DH, put the Brewers back in the AL and shift Kansas City to the AL West, this will always be an overcrowded and underwhelming division. (I know some people will suggest that we could also go full interleague if the NL adopts the DH, but those people ride broomsticks every full moon.) It’s a long slow ride to the middle of the pack, but something tells me the Pirates are finally on board that train. It certainly isn’t the lineup, which isn’t much more inspiring than Washington’s. Still, there’s always that fact that…

Houston Astros

— … Houston is worse. Somewhere in Springfield, Nelson Muntz is pointing his finger at this team and saying “HA ha.” They’re deceptively bad, in the sense that some of the players were pretty darn good in 2007. Sadly, it’s 2010. Sorry Pedro Feliz, Kaz Matsui, Lance Berkman and Roy Oswalt. HA ha, indeed.

NL West

Colorado Rockies

— Time to deploy the royal We. It’s finally time to declare the Rockies one of baseball’s elite, and for once, I’m not the only one who thinks so. Much has been made of the entirely homegrown lineup (aside from Carlos Gonzalez, who came via awesome trade and not free agent splurge), and it does appear that the front office knows what it’s doing for once. Tulo’s locked up. Helton will retire a Rockie and, given a ring, probably be the first franchise Hall of Fame inductee. The pitching is solid from top to bottom. Sure, we’re starting the season with Francis and Street in the hospital, but they’ll both be back in plenty of time to run away with the division and make noise in the playoffs. This is the kind of team that, in the words of cliche becrutched television announcers, finds a way to win, simply because at least two players have the tools to produce runs or prevent them in any given game. I won’t say the Rockies are streak-proof, if only in deference to the recent history of outlandish streakiness, but we’re certainly flop-proof. I’m saddened that Jason Giambi is on the team, because I can’t abide cheaters and I thought we got rid of the last one when Holliday got shipped out. (Calling it here: Matt will be the last major leaguer to be tarnished by the recent steroid era.) I adore all that outfield depth, and while it will be nerve-wracking to watch Morales “close” games for a month or two, I don’t think the bullpen is the glaring question mark so many national pubs do. Look out National League. This team is for real.

Los Angeles Dodgers

— It’s curious so many preseason write-ups have fretted about the ownership divorce. I get the sense that people think somehow a confuzzled purse string will hold this team back in 2010 like it’s kryptonite. That can only be true if they need to add pieces during the season. And if they need to add pieces during the season … well, what’s wrong with the Dodgers right now? They seem all right on paper. Solid offense, decent age of core players, the usual assortment of solid starters, a fireballing closer, Joe Torre, tradition, Alyssa Milano…. I know, something’s still missing, right? Missing the playoffs, that is! It will be a pleasure to watch this team fall short of 90 wins this year, and hear everyone making excuses as to why.

San Francisco Giants

— They shouldn’t be any good. If Lincecum gets hurt, the pitching is merely above average. If Pablo Sandoval gets hurt, the offense is dreadful. But there’s a greater-than-the-sum-of-its-parts makeup to this team that should keep it around .500. I think the Giants beat teams that suck, and lose to teams that are good. That will make for an angst-ridden Bay Area this season, because everyone thinks the Giants are destined for greatness every year instead of being what they really are as a franchise: Boston, pre-2004. I’m actually impressed nobody’s come up with a curse yet to explain the championship drought since 1954. I suppose we could blame it on Barry (Bonds, not Zito, though people do have fun blaming Zito.) Me, I think it’s the curse of Brian Sabean, who knows how to write contracts and develop pitchers but can’t trade to save his life.

Arizona Dickbacks

— I give them fourth place because even I can see how awful San Diego is, and I do make an effort to be reasonable in these predictions. I fail to explain everything that’s wrong with them because I just hate the Diamondbacks as a rival. They don’t have Eric Byrnes to kick around anymore, which is too bad. He was fun to mock. They do have Stephen “The Fourth DiMaggio” Drew and Justin Uptonopotential. They also have some good starters. They also have a losing season.

San Diego Padres

— I’m too tired to make fun of the Padres tonight. Let’s just say there comes a time in every young man’s life when he learns that the presence of David Eckstein on a roster is the sign of a team going in the wrong direction. Tony Gwynn Jr. is a bad-ass, though. Cute of the Friars to sign him. Can’t wait to see who they’re forced to trade him to when he gets good and wants to play for a real team. The Cubs, maybe?

NL Playoffs

Colorado Rockies vs. Atlanta Braves (Colorado in 4)
Philadelphia Phillies vs. Milwaukee Brewers (Philadelphia in 3)

Colorado Rockies vs. Philadelphia Phillies (Colorado in 5 — and is this starting to look like a rivalry or what?)

World Series

Colorado Rockies vs. Texas Rangers (Colorado in 4, huzzah!)

AL East

New York Yankees

– Time to put the Wild Cards away and stick the pinstripes back on top. The weakness in the Bronx these past few years has been pitching, and I think that weakness has been sewn up. Sure, the Yankees are old enough to be a Daylight Savings Time change away from Hall Of Fame Legends, but for once they don’t seem to be banking on an injury-free season. Having Joba Chamberlain back up Mariano Rivera takes away that “will the cutter still work?” worry. Randy Winn isn’t exactly a big bopper, but he can provide far-above-replacement level at any outfield position. Is Brett Gardner really that good? Probably not as good as the New York media will make him out to be, but like most fresh Yankee faces, probably better than anyone playing on the Royals. I think CC Sabathia will come back to form for one more season and contend for a Cy Young Award. I think having the World Series monkey off A-Rod’s back (not to mention another year between him and the S-word) will help him put out one final monster year before the decline (he’s 35 this year!). And I think the AL East is in what passes for a re-grouping year in that monster of a division. When in doubt, give the Yankees the crown.

Boston Red Sox

– Picking the Yanks and Sox to finish 1-2? What balls! Yeah, well, money can buy you love in baseball, and the Red Sox still have plenty of cash out in the field. While the Beaneaters still have all-pro players manning most positions, I think there are some roster slots given over to uncharacteristically questionable veterans, like Boston has turned into the Tigers or Angels or something. Beltre at 3rd? Scutaro at short? Mike Cameron in center? JD Drew, still? I also think the trio of Varitek, Victor Martinez and Big Papi is a wobbly three-legged stool. Like the Yankees, the Sox are kinda old. Unlike the Yankees, their roster isn’t 80% bound for Cooperstown. The pitching is beyond solid, but one can also say that about the Undeviled Rays. I would say their staff gives them a division title anywhere else but the AL East. As it stands, it’s just another Wild Card year in Boston.

Tampa Bay Rays

– I actually think this is a close call between the Rays and Boston. Give or take a few injuries, the Rays could either nab a Wild Card or finish .500. Certainly after 2008, nobody doubts the talent that’s been assembled, and if I were building a franchise tonight, I’d take that pitching rotation over any other, including San Francisco’s. Tampa Bay’s problem comes down to a tale of two Carls. I don’t believe Carlos Pena is really that awesome, and I don’t think Carl Crawford is as valuable a baseball player as his fantasy stats make him seem. Pena’s batted ball stats point to an escalating fly ball rate (at the expense of line drives and grounders), which means he’s getting completely reliant on home runs. If he loses a bit of timing/strength/eyesight/willpower/whatever, he might turn into an out machine, which is basically what he was prior to 2007 when he only got a whiff of .800 OPS figures. Now, every prediction engine out there has him continuing along at a pace of .245/.365/.890, so I guess I’m just having a hunch that he’ll decline at 32. But it’s my hunch and I’m sticking to it. As for Crawford, his very nice 2009 still rubs me the wrong way after his very not nice 2008. The tools are there, but the consistency?

Baltimore Orioles

– Their youth propels them out of the cellar. What puzzles me is the corner infield tandem of Miguel Tejada and Garrett Atkins. Tejada is simple old and in decline, though it’s interesting that his K rate has dropped so much that if he remembers how to walk (something he apparently forgot how to do after 2007), he could become an OBP machine. Atkins was the ultimate rally-killer in Colorado, showing perpetual unclutchiness with negative WPA two years running. That said, his abysmal 2009 was part of a stupendously unlucky .246 BABIP. A rebound to .300ish numbers there and he can be an RBI guy. Put a good season from those two together, and you’ve got a real offense, depending on how the youth movement lives up to the hype. The pitching, particularly the bullpen, is a great unknown, so there’s no profit in predicting a run for the pennant, but the Orioles could surprise this year. That said, this franchise has felt like an AL counterpart to the Reds for an entire decade: nice parts on paper, but always missing too many ingredients to climb past .500.

Toronto Blue Jays

– What’s the Canadian word for “rebuild”? And remember when John McDonald was the best fielder since Ozzie Smith? And who are these guys again? The Jays could swap their entire roster with the Nationals, and I don’t think anyone aside from the IRS would notice. I’m not one of those baseball fans who watches the minor leagues with drooling anticipation of what’s to come, so I’ll need a year just to familiarize myself with this roster before I even pretend to know what this team’s about. Luckily, in the AL East, a field of unknowns virtually guarantees fifth place. Just ask the Rays. It took them two years in a row of Sports Illustrated covers in March before they had enough star power to compete. Also, I have a theory that before Vince Carter departed from the Raptors, he transferred a bit of his DNA into Vernon Wells so that Toronto could continue to feel tortured by a player who struts around with a fat paycheck based on distant memories of predictions of greatness. (Maybe they should trade Wells to Orlando?)

AL Central

Minnesota Twins

— Sure, they lost a closer to start the season, but the AL Central isn’t exactly a rumble in the jungle. The most potent starting pitching is a toss-up between the Twins and the White Sox, depending on health, and the most potent lineup is a toss-up between the Twins and the Tigers, depending on who has fewer fluke down years. Since the Twins get to be in both toss-ups, they’ll get to survive the home stretch and see the playoffs. The one great wrinkle of unknown is the new Target Field. Minnesota has a storied tradition of riding the Metrodome to unfair homefield advantage. If the Big Bullseye turns out to be an offense-suppressing beast like San Diego’s nasty Petco surprise, or simply levels the playing field and allows Central rivals to feel more at home, this could erase an important edge that’s pumped this franchise to the top in so many years when the competition went limp. We’ll see. I predict a close finish with…

Detroit Tigers

— Say what? You thought I’d say White Sox, didn’t you? Well, every year something fluky seems to happen in this division (hell, even the Royals went .500 sometime last decade), and I think this is Detroit’s year to have a statistically unlikely run of excellent starting pitching. The White Sox have already seen it happen twice. Detroit’s offense might be less than thundering (Johnny Damon is now just a lowercase “i” idiot and Adam Everitt might as well bat with his glove on, he’s such a fielding-first player), but again, the Central is a mess of uneven teams trying to compete with the cohesive Twins. And Detroit’s always allowed precisely one decent sports franchise at a time. Why not the Tigers?

Chicago White Sox

— After years of hearing national sports commentators backhand my beloved Rockies by implying that any offensive purple prowess is due solely to the ballpark and the altitude, I finally get to turn the tables. Jake Peavy looked like the second coming of Bob Lemon while playing in the most pitching-friendly ballpark of the modern era in a division that was rebuilding offenses across the board in a league where the pitchers bat ninth. I don’t think he’ll pull a full Zito flop, but I do think Peavy will look entirely human, and all those predictions of a lights-out rotation on the South Side might crumble by June. Also, Mark Teahen. Also, Juan Pierre. Sorry, Chicago. This team has mediocrity written all over it.

Kansas City Royals

— Huh? Look, I’m predicting fourth place by a sliver. I think the Royals will continue to smell bad, just not last place bad in 2010. Any team with Zack Grienke in the rotation is going to avoid long losing streaks, and as much as I denigrated Chicago’s lineup for being mediocre, Kansas City’s is similarly mediocre … and that’s an improvement for the boys in the blue. A lot could go wrong. Alex Gordon could turn out to be in rehab the rest of his career. Rick Ankiel might need to be sent down to A-ball to learn how to catch or whatever it is he hasn’t tried doing from scratch yet. Jason Kendall could get more than 100 at bats (*shudder*). Grienke could get hurt. But I don’t think it hurts my childhood favorites to get a bit of a karma bump from this blog this year. C’mon, KC, let me hear you chant it! We’re Number Four! We’re Number Four!

Cleveland Indians

— Will the Indians trade LeBron to New York? Look, the team isn’t that hopeless. They’re still substantially the same team they were a few years ago, when they were awesome, plus or minus a handful of Cy Young Award winners and a young power-hitting catcher. What I’m most curious about this year — and I fully admit it’s for fantasy baseball reasons alone — is whether or not Travis Hafner is another Pat Burrell (not nearly as good as he’s supposed to be) or another Juan Gonzalez (he’s suddenly good again … must have been injured). Baseball Reference says he’s another Dolph Camilli. Don’t worry, I didn’t know who the hell that was, either.

AL West

Texas Rangers

— Ah, the wild west. I love this division, because every year it seems so unpredictable, and every year either the Angels or the A’s win it depending on which franchise is firing on all cylinders at the time. Well, this year, I think the Rangers will actually-really-for-sure-despite-a-coke-snorting-manager-I-mean-it win the division. And, as a bonus, I think they’ll win a playoff series. Actually, two. Actually, I think the Rangers will win the pennant. Here’s why. The starting rotation is solid. Rich Harden is a beast, and he’ll return to form in the AL. Michael Young and Ian Kinsler are, at this moment in time, better all-around players than ARod and Jeter. Vlad Guerrero is perfectly cast in the role of “that one veteran who never got to play in the World Series and finally gets to with his new team.” Any player you can point a finger at who’s under the age of 25 is awesome. And, as a special bonus, the division is stealthily good, but not nearly as good as Texas. Which means the Rangers will be battle hardened and likely to face off against the two AL East teams in the playoffs (Wild Card, then whoever kicks the crap out of the Central winner). That thing the Angels did in 2003? I see the Rangers doing it in 2010. Congratulations, Texas. It’s a long overdue shot at a title. Of course, you’ll lose, but I’ll get to that in a dozen more team recaps or so.

Seattle Mariners

— There’s not much separation between the remaining AL West teams, so it’s tough to call the order here. I think Seattle’s the steadiest team, so they seem most likely to hit number two. Then again, any team with Milton Bradley on the roster, now matter how old and fat and jolly Griffey Jr. is, can’t be 100% steady. King Felix is a little overrated as an ace, but Chone Figgins is still a little underrated as a hitter. (All his comparables are ancient 19th century players with names like “Ducky,” so you know he’s a unique player who’s tough for modern commentators and viewers to evaluate.) But really, what this team has always needed is someone to knock home runs behind Ichiro. If Bradley can keep his sanity long enough to do that, they should win a lot of games.

Oakland Athletics

— I like Ben Sheets. I know he’s been hurt a lot and never lived up to the Cy Young promise he had when the Brewers gave him all their sweet, sweet Selig money, but I like him. What’s more, Billy Beane likes him, and success vs. non-success aside, Beane is one GM who knows when to fold ‘em and knows when to hold ‘em when it comes to starting pitchers. (He gave Harden up under a contract gun.) All those things people believe Jake Peavy will be for Chicago? I think Sheets will be that for Oakland. I also like Daric Barton. I like the cut of Rajai Davis’s jib. I like Kouzmanoff’s underrated overratedness. And I like how the official team site puts Ryan Sweeney at the top of the depth chart in both center and right. (Man, that guy covers a lot of ground!) Sure, this isn’t a very good team, but it’s not a very bad team, either. Let’s say 76 wins.

Los Angeles Angels of Orange County

— Remember how much I like Ben Sheets? That’s how much I dislike the Angels. I think they’re a smug organization and I think their rally monkey sucks dick. I can’t explain my antipathy; it’s just there. Oh, wait, I can explain my antipathy. They think Bobby Abreu and Hideki Matsui are both still power hitters. (Um, sure, if you think 18 homers equals power.) They think their starting pitching is the shit. (Jered Weaver, I hope that great 2006 year keeps getting you laid and paid, because you ain’t been ace since.) They think Torii Hunter is a great fielding player. (We ought to rename Web Gems the Wool Gems, for what they pull over the eyes of general managers.) (And also, while I’m using parenthesis too much, can I say that people who “prove” that UZR is a bad stat because Torii Hunter has a bad UZR are … making the counter-clockwise circular argument to say the least.) Anyway, my hatred of Los Angeles de Los Angeles is completely irrational, and this isn’t a bad team by any stretch. They would contend in the Central. But they’re the worst of a mildly mediocre trio in the West, and that might plant them in the cellar for a year. Shrug it off Angels fans … if you exist out there.

AL Playoffs

Texas Rangers vs. Boston Red Sox (Texas in 5)
New York Yankees vs. Minnesota Twins (New York in 4)

Texas Rangers vs. New York Yankees (Texas in 7)

National League tomorrow…

If we politely ignore Nacho Libre, this movie is the true spiritual follow-up to Napoleon Dynamite for Jared Hess, and it accordingly suffers from sequelitis.Told in the same sweetly halting and awkward universe as ND, Gentlemen Broncos follows the travails of home-schooled teenager Benjamin (Michael Angarano) as he attempts to get his sci-fi scribblings published. At a convention for young writers, bestselling author Maurice Chevalier (Jemaine Clement) steals Benjamin’s Yeast Lords manuscript and puts it out as one of his own. Meanwhile, sexually aggressive (in a Mormon way) Tabatha (Halley Feiffer) and her video director sidekick Lonnie (the marvellously-lipped Hector Jimenez) are adapting Yeast Lords for the silver screen in a way that doesn’t exactly accord with the author’s wishes. This set-up actually yields plenty of comic material, and some of the performers, notably Clement and Jennifer Coolidge (who was born to live in Hess’s world of the pathetically tentative fringe) rise to the occasion. But unlike ND, which provided preternaturally sweet supporting characters for Napoleon (Pedro and Deb), this movie strands us with no character who can elicit sympathy. There are plenty of characters to pity, but none to cheer for. Angarano is particularly blank as the protagonist, gazing at every scene in the movie with a frozen expression of nervous worry, so that all the comedy has a surface of pudding to bounce off. Feiffer, a Noah Baumbach regular, brings the most interesting character interpretation to the table, but she’s more of a misguided villain than a salvation for Benjamin. In the end, he nominally triumphs, but there’s nothing like the transcendent dance sequence from ND, and since this is a sequel in all but name, the omission is glaring. If you’re going to watch this, watch it solely for Sam Rockwell’s kooky Texan performance as the main character of Yeast Lords in several cable access–worthy re-enactment scenes.

1. Make cops use cars that power down during idling. Cops idle a lot. How many times have you seen two police cars spooning in a parking lot as the drivers waste away a boring shift chit-chatting? Or, of course, a cop idling in a median with a radar gun? There are already electric cars that can provide energy to the municipal power grid while idling. Can we build something into hybrids, a kind of smart shut-off with instant rev-up? At the very least, could a car be designed for cops that is super-efficient at idling, fuel-wise?

2. Option to turn off graphics during sports games. I’ve watching a few old-school classic baseball games online to get geared up for the 2010 season. It’s a joy to watch those pre-’80s broadcasts with no graphics cluttering up the view of the batter or the field. While the amount of graphics on screen has hit a plateau since networks went ticker/info/sidebar/animation crazy in the early 2000s, it’s still annoying how little of the screen is actually devoted to the sport. We already have the SAP button and closed captioning. What about a similar simultaneous stream for graphics? Just push a button, and they drop away. (I know there are raw graphic-free feeds of sports at least, because the later games that MLBAM streams are run without them sometimes.) As a bonus, this could also be used for non-sports programming to eliminate the annoying transparent logo in the lower right or the atrocious fly–across-the-screen promo with a smiling guy wiggling around to announce the latest crappy sit-com.

3. Computers with built-in scanners and printers. Really, the chips are small enough to fit in a phone now. Most of the size of an iMac is given over to just the monitor. All-in-ones have become pretty cheap. For high-end desktops, can’t we have a slot that you can put paper in for scanning? With a bit more technical wizardry, it would be cool to be able to slip that piece of paper in and have it pop back out printed with whatever’s on the screen, like a toaster. Most of what I print these days is recipes or directions or résumés — one page items that I need to use away from any kind of screen. Seems wasteful to have an entire electronic appliance dedicated to that.

Thomas Hardy’s final novel scandalized England for its views on divorce, but there’s something more shocking at work in its dreary prose. Jude Fawley — the hardscrabble protagonist who dreams of an autodidactic escape from rural poverty — constantly undoes himself by tragic flaws that are ambiguously ingrained and external. Is he brought down by his animal love for two impossible women? (Conniving Arabelle tricks him into marriage in a plot device that would be familiar to viewers of Glee, while his cousin Sue Bridehead is a queer concoction of asexual coquettishness.) The events of the plot certainly point to women ruining his life, but it’s hard to figure whether this is the fault of the women or Jude’s own crazy devotions. There’s also a question as to whether Jude’s lack of academic success is entirely the fault of external forces — rigid 19th century British classism — or limitations in his own talent. We’re given scant evidence of Jude’s prowess in study, and there are subtle hints dropped throughout that he might not be as smart as he thinks. Then again, how smart must one be? Hardy’s close narration, which ventures only occasionally into the mindsets of cunning Arabelle and addled Sue, reveals the crippling nature of self-doubt. More than once, the reader will want to shake Jude out of a torpor and tell him to fight against all odds. That’s what heroes do, right? By painting the portrait of a failure, Hardy did something far more shocking than his nominal support of divorce (yes, the books suggests that divorce is necessary, but the characters are ill-served by it): he told the story of an ordinary person who struggles against mediocrity to wind up in obscurity. In other words, he narrates a life most of us are destined to, whether we care to face it or not. In an American society conditioned to think of all of its constituents as superheroes, this book might properly be classified as horror.

2. Acting cute will protect you. While I try my best to keep an even but authoritative tone with my dog, just like the Whisperer says I should, I occasionally yell at the dog. If I’m imposing enough, her first instinct isn’t to cower or run away or even fight back. She rolls on her back and dangles her legs in the air with a dew-eyed look. It’s adorable, and it invariably calms me down and earns her a belly rub (or at least a gentle hauling off to the time-out room). I only realize later that I’ve been played. Sometimes, asserting your control over a situation requires a reversal of expectations. I actually learned this in middle school, when I used humor to wiggle my way out of fights. If an argument or a situation is becoming to tense, it can often be defused by cuteness or humor. The delicate trick is to deploy such cuteness in a way that wins you the floor, but doesn’t imply that you don’t take the situation seriously. You want someone to smirk and calm down, not dismiss you as an idiot. At least, not until later.

3. It’s scary! Bite it! While this is one of Cricket’s worst traits, obedience wise, I’m fascinated by my 12-pound dog’s instinct to shoot first and ask questions later. Whenever a particularly large man approaches — or someone who’s jogging, or a noisy truck — she instantly lunges in a full-out, teeth-bared attack. She never does this with anything she has a reasonable chance of actually harming and/or killing. Only those objects that are sure to destroy her if I actually let her have at it. (On the few occasions she’s done this and I haven’t had her on a leash, what happens is a charging attack followed immediately by a cute flip for a belly rub. As I stated earlier, she’s certifiably insane.) Taken out of context and put in human terms, this behavior is often considered bravery, or at least bravado. Minus the actual intent to harm, it’s also a good lesson for problems that arise in life. The more gnarly and dangerous the problem appears, the more you should instantly attack it. The worst that could happen if you lose is a violent but noble death. If you win: eternal fame. If it’s a draw: belly rub!

4. Above all else, guard your ass. If you don’t want someone to touch your ass, attack. If someone touches your ass without warning, attack. In an uncertain situation, make sure the first thing you protect is your ass. The touching of an ass should be reserved for trusted sentient beings only. This one is, I believe, self-explanatory.

5. Adapt without changing. The most incredible — and most frustrating — aspect of Cricket’s personality is how rooted it is in her brain stem. She’s not just a poor dog who learned bad habits. She is, deep down, an insane creature with an aggression problem. That said, through numerous owners, apartments, training regimens, cities, diets, and situations, she’s always managed to figure out what she needs to do. I have to learn a new trick? Give me five minutes. I need to be nice to this person? Okay, I can handle that. You want me to sleep in there? I’ll try it. She’ll steadfastly refuse to let go of her basic paranoia or need for attention and affection, but she will survive anything you throw at her. Is it better to be perfect, or alive? Cricket chose the latter, which is only as impressive as it is because so many dogs are fairly stupid, and will endanger themselves in the service of a routine. (Okay, okay, we consider that “loyalty” and “obedience” their best trait, but really it’s kind of stupid.) There’s a central paradox to most fable-style morals; “be true to yourself” conflicts with “reach for the stars.” When in doubt, survival is your best guide to both.

In conclusion (man, it’s been since high school that I’ve begun a paragraph that way), following this advice as a lifestyle would turn one into an asshole. There isn’t going to be any bestselling self-help book called “Be the Poodle” for a reason. Nobody but the co–dependent really loves a self-centered aggressive survivalist with an instinct for attacking. But when the chips are down, when life is throwing the worst of its shit your way, you can do a lot worse than acting a little bit like Cricket. Assertion is the key to crawling out of depression. Men of action win the bear markets. Doing is better than thinking when results are paramount. In this period of my life, I embrace my inner poodle.

Or, as the script would have it titled, Um in Underland. Now, I’m a Tim Burton apologist, so I’m inclined to forgive this movie for many faults, but… he’s always in debt to his screenplays. Sadly, sometimes the screenplays can’t pay the bills, either. This one falls completely flat in the third act. The idea is actually quite nifty, a sort of wrap-up of an imagined trilogy started by Carroll’s Alice and Through the Looking Glass. I would have liked to see Wonderland as an allegory for the choices 19-year-old Alice has to make in a hide-bound British society, and that’s indeed what we get, right up to the point when the screenwriter chickens out and decides a fight with a Jabberwocky is more important than a coherent story. Burton’s visual flourishes drive the story, and I’ll never understand those who denigrate him as repetitive. Aside from a dash of spindly trees and striped clothing, this is his most original barrage of set decorating since Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and he has always reserved his macabre Goreyisms for his macabre movies. The 3-D is gimmicky and unnatural — even with this new technology, I feel like I’m swimming through a movie instead of kicking back to watch it — and I’m not entirely sure I understand what Johnny Depp was doing with the role of the Mad Hatter, mad as it was. Entertaining enough, and completely forgivable in its mistakes if you see it as a movie primarily for children, but not one of Burton’s best, and certainly not as good as it could have been.

Ricky Gervais is a master of the comedic reaction shot, which means he cast himself perfectly in this brilliant script about the only man in the world who knows how to lie. Even in the early stages of the movie, when the world is completely honest — and in this world, honesty seems to be compulsive, as if everyone had soberly lost the inhibition to speak their minds — Gervais has a wounded look of surprise, like all of this honesty is still a fresh blow to him even though it doesn’t faze anyone else. Similarly, the look of devious joy on his face when he conceives the first lie might be the funniest unspoken line that I’ve seen in years. The movie rolls a little off the path in the third act, after the inevitable segue into religious parody sets in and we need to wrap up the romance angle. Jennifer Garner, the love interest, is portrayed as a self-centered blue blood throughout the movie. Gervais is in love with her for her beauty — and it must be that alone, because she’s invariably cruel to him and others throughout the first two acts — yet the movie claims as a moral that beauty is irrelevant. Okay, then why is he in love with Garner above all other women? The “genetic mate” joke is pummeled until it gets stale and borders on psychotic. In a world of honesty, would eugenics really be the norm? Still, as romantic comedies go, this obstacle to the two lovers getting together is less dumb than most, and it serves the need of the brilliant conceit just fine, giving us a hero who’s an honest liar in a world full of deluded truth-tellers.

2Lindsay Rae Spurlock: I’ll probably go my whole life without shaking the bug for poppy, emotional female singer/songwriters (Lilith Fair forever, holmses). I’m frankly surprised, given her media exposure at this point on television and years gigging around, that nobody has scooped her up yet. The professional-quality recordings on 2008’s Heart On EP sound as if they could have come from a label already. I can practically watch the Grey’s Anatomy montage unfold over this particular track.

As For Now by Lindsay Rae Spurlock

3Bear Hunter: Caught this noisy rock band from Chico while I was back in Santa Cruz for a visit. They were making ears bleed in a tiny pub that was wholly unprepared for their energy and blasts of rock and roll. In fact, the speakers were cranked so loud that most people left. Too bad: they missed one of those miraculous misplaced shows that should have happened on a giant stage at ACL instead of a hole in the wall in Northern California.

4Shad: Okay, okay, he’s already signed. But I would offer whatever it took to steal him, and it’s a Canadian label besides. The U.S. needs to get schooled by this guy the way Sidney Crosby schooled us in overtime. Not only does this Toronto native have some of cleverest, most sincere rhymes in the business, his flow is impeccable. Seriously, the dictionary needs to scratch out whatever definition it has for ‘impeccable’ and just drop in the phrase “Check out this six-minute video by Shad. Shit. Sick.”

5Great Lakes Myth Society: It’s a bit of a mystery what happened to this Michigan band, so if anyone knows something, please enlighten me. They put out some fantastic big songs in a light-hearted, more Irish-sounding style of Arcade Fire, signed with someone called Quack! and promptly dropped off the face of the planet. The last I can find is a short slate of recordings from spring of 2008. I suppose they could just be holed up and recording somewhere, but if they’re not, I’d like my imaginary label to make that happen for them.

Summer Bonfire by Great Lakes Myth Society