Dodgers vs. Devil Rays, Tampa

How do the Devil Rays get away with their team name? Didn’t the Moral Majority get all riled up? Where were the protesters? Anyway, if they possess some hotness, I wouldn’t know, because I happened to be in my car at the time of the game and heard it on the radio with my aunt. She’s been watching baseball for a lot longer than me, and is my personal walking Wikipedia of information. We were laughing over all our favorite players and when we heard that Nomar was sent back to the hotel with “flu-like symptoms” we were duly concerned. My mother, who was sitting in the back seat, said “How come when I complain about my back you tell me to suck it up but when some baseball player has a cold you’re ready to send flowers?” Mom is not a baseball fan, needless to say.

It wasn’t until I got home and caught the last inning that I realized they were having “Turn Back the Clock Day” and wearing the old Brooklyn uniforms. Damn, our men looked good in retro gear…..particularly Ethier (you know he gave Grady a fight over those short pants, I’ve never ever seen him wear those before.) The rest of the younguns were looking swell as well. James Loney is radiating some serious hotness with those crazy eyes of his and the uniform just made it better. Old fart Jeff Kent continues to be the man I hate to love. The exception (and you know there had to be one) was poor Gonzo. I really love Luis Gonzalez, but you know this dude’s natural style is a pair of flip flops, raggedy shorts from Old Navy, and a threadbare t-shirt that probably says “Dad’s Day 10k 1997” on it. I swear he’s going to end up being one of my neighbors one day, watering the lawn and hollering at his kids to quit stepping on the hose. If ever a baseball player radiated “regular guy” it’s Gonzo. So his Brooklyn Dodgers uniform had the unfortunate appearance of a costume, which was distracting, but oh, well, can’t win them all. I think we should make this a regular thing, hmmmm.

In “speak of the devil” news: Paul Lo Duca’s ejection from the 6/23 Mets @ Oakland game, complete with finger pointing, bat and cap tossing, and equipment being ejected from the dugout. Didn’t I just say he was the compleat New York Guy? has the best video of him with his eyes nearly bugging out of his head, but damn them, won’t let me download. Best I can do is the YouTube video of a fan who was at the game.

It’s not perfect because it doesn’t show the run-up to the equipment-flinging, which is priceless. For that, you’ll have to visit, I guess.

We have one more shot against the Rays today. Because it’s a day game, and with the funky time difference, I get to watch baseball (nearly) first thing in the morning. Men in uniforms—it’s what’s for breakfast. Tasty!


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Dodgers vs. Various, Early June

I’m slumping. I’ve been doing nothing but work, although I make time to watch games. I find that being a baseball fan makes me a better teacher. I find some way to work in the Dodgers to every class, and every class will have two or three people out of thirty-odd students whose eyes light up and who start talking about the game and can’t stop. It’s cute. I teach adults, and most of them are from very different backgrounds than me. I sometimes feel that we’re from different planets, but some of the planets apparently get the game on the satellite dish, so we have this tiny little place where we meet on equal ground. It’s pleasant. Last week a student was quiet during class, but approached me during lunchtime and started talking all about baseball and how when he was on his tour of duty in Iraq last year, the only things that got him through the bad times were pictures of his wife and daughter, and baseball news. He said he treasured every scrap of information he could get, “even about teams I hate.” Every couple of months he would get a big box of magazines and news clippings from friends back home, and he would ration them out, reading them in order, making them last until the next box came. What’s remarkable is that this guy has never spoken three sentences in class before, and I had always thought he was sullen, or dimwitted. Turned out he was just quiet after all those months in the desert. Now I know how to get his attention.

We’re getting ready to switch shifts, and I’m going to be working evenings for a few weeks. I don’t like that at all. Not only will I miss games, but all my baseball buddies will be on the other shift. I’ll be stuck with the other night instructor, who enjoys watching Survivor in the break room and likes to play Neil Diamond tapes during the lunch hour (a student looked up when she put on “Comin’ To America” and said “My grandma loves this kind of music too!” She was not amused.) A far cry from my daytime cronies, who love to chew over a topic like “Is it time for Gonzo to give it up?” and re-live magical moments in Chavez Ravine. Even the receptionist at work is a baseball fan. She and I are going to the game together soon, but she only likes to go on giveaway nights so we’re kinda limited as far as choices go. She’s favoring the Furcal bobblehead on July 6th against Florida but I’m thinking I’d rather have the mesh cap June 29th against the Padres. You know it’s a cheap piece of shit, but I really just want to get within spitting distance of Adrian Gonzalez and his plumber’s crack.

So, backtracking a bit: The Dodgers came home on the 8th after an exhausting road trip (see below), and played the 8th, 9th, and 10th against Toronto at Dodger Stadium. Despite a careful search, I could discern no noticeable hotness among the Blue Jays. It was a whole different story when the Mets came to town on Monday the 11th.

The Mets have two of my future ex-husbands, Shawn Green and Paul Lo Duca. Shawn Green was on my radar several years back, back when I “occasionally watched baseball” and before I evolved into “baseball chick.” I remember listening to my grandfather gripe about him back when he was a Dodger. At the time, I found him weird but hot in a geeky way, and now he’s older and less hot, but still agreeably geeky. If anyone saw those words between him and Brad Penny regarding the signs, know that my heart was beating with terror! Poor Shawn! Brad could break him in half with those beefy forearms of his, and just when Greenman was getting over that broken foot. I don’t doubt for a moment that Shawn was guilty, though. I’m smitten, but I’m not stupid. Shawn looks like the kind of person who got used to getting away with shit at a very young age because he has such a innocent, angelic face. You know, the kind of kid who would break a window and then blame it on Billy, the troublemaking neighbor kid from a broken home. Have you ever noticed how when he makes a bad throw or an out and out error, and he KNOWS the camera is zooming in on him, he casually looks away, playing the “la la la I can’t hear you” indifference card.

My other favorite Met is Paul Lo Duca. I just enjoy watching him, as I’d enjoy watching a rare and unusual species of animal in a zoo. I don’t personally know many people from New York, but I picture native New Yorkers as being exactly like Paulie. Small, quick, always with the grumpy scowl or the brow furrowed in thought, restlessly hitching up his pants at the plate, pointing his stubby finger, shooting off his mouth (a co-worker of mine will never forgive him for telling Sports Illustrated “Fuck the Dodgers” after they traded him a few years back.) He is the classic New York Guy. When he talks with that accent I get crazy. And then I think of something a friend from New York told me years ago when I was jonesing over some random guycrush from the Big Apple. “People from Los Angeles shouldn’t hook up with New Yorkers. New York kids, even rich ones, grow up without back yards. Single family insularity is completely alien to them. It causes problems.” OK, but I can still think Lo Duca’s mad hot for a little guy. Mr. S-Mob, who is proud of his Northern California Sicilian heritage, should be glad I’m lovin’ on the Italians instead of the Latins for a change.

Anyway, after three Dodger triumphs over the Mets (and after Kuo pissed off Paulie by flipping his bat in sheer disbelief over hitting a home run–his first in MLB) we moved to interleague play and took on the Angels, which started off well and ended up dreadful. Personally, I was horrified when a throw to second by (my darling) Russell Martin ended up whacking poor Casey Kotchman on the head in the middle of Saturday’s game. Not only does that hurt, it also robbed the Angels of their one sexy player. Not fair. They won anyway. Damn Angels. Here’s Casey on the ground. His goatee is still looking good!

Then the next day poor Loney was playing right field (?) and crashed into the wall. Damn Vladimir Guererro just kept running. If this sport was played by women we would have all dropped the game and raced over to aid our fallen comrade (even if she was on the opposing team.) My co-worker Paul was in the all-you-can-eat pavilion at the time and swore he could feel the vibrations from Loney’s smashup shaking his seat. I was glad to see Crazy Eyes (according to Joe Beimel, that’s Loney’s nickname) back and apparently no worse for wear this week.

Now we’re back to the Blue Jays, in Toronto, which means the games are on at four in the afternoon California time. I had KFWB 980 cranked up on the way home from work, listening to the boys beat the pants off the men of the Great White North. It’s kinda sad that some people live on a frozen tundra and have to have a covered stadium, innit?

From there we go to Tampa and the Devil Rays and then Arizona, and then back to Chavez Ravine. Next homestand I plan to see at least one game. Stand by for action photos as I celebrate the hotness that is Dodger Blue.

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Dodgers vs. Padres at Petco Park

Well, the series isn’t over but it’s not looking good. Two losses with one game to go—and I’m disappointed, because our defense hasn’t been as stellar as usual and our offense has been, well, sad. It’s awful in the S-Mob household when the boys are losin’, folks. I see their cute lil faces all sad n’ stuff, and I just wanna comfort them…..

(I completely skipped over Pittsburgh, even though there are some cuties on that team, because what can you say about a team that has a pierogie as a mascot? I thought the Nationals were dorky–the pierogie with a purse outdorks the Presidential puppets by a loooooong way, my friends. Ah well. We’ll return to the hotness of the ‘burghians some other time.)

Back to San Diego. Game One–Can we talk about Rudy Seanez? The man may be old, and may have played for every damn team in the universe like an old ho making the rounds of the cathouses, but he’s got the hotness working. Witness the classic moment when he let the Padre whose name I cannot spell steal a base and the camera did a closeup only to see him mouthing the words “mother fucker”. Vin said something like “he’s muttering to himself” (uh, I think the entire baseball universe knew what he said, but ok.)

Let’s also talk about Jeff Kent right here. I am torn when it comes to Mr. Kent, no doubt about it. Jeff reminds me of that hot guy every girl dates—the one who’s totally in love with himself, who believes he is such hot shit that every date he gives you is a favor granted, who doesn’t open the door for you, who flirts with your best friend, who tells you your ass is fat and who yawns when you’re having a crisis. You know you still call that guy every once in a while, because you need a loan and he’s the only guy you’ve ever dated who had money, and…..ok you get the idea. That’s Jeff Kent to me. When he was having that little slump recently I was gloating but when the chips were down, I was yelling “Come on Kent, hit one for me baby.” It’s pathetic huh? He’s got a great head of hair, by the way. He needs to loan Gonzo some of that hair. Gonzo, I still love you but it’s time to shave whatever’s left and call it a day.

The Padres have their fair share of hotness, but I was unable to look anywhere but first base. Adrian Gonzalez has never struck me as sexy before, but something about that 90s goatee….I would be remiss if I didn’t confess that Mr. S-Mob has a similar goatee which he’s been warned not to shave off under pain of death. Yo, Adrian….Vin kept referring to your family’s plumbing business that’s been in San Diego for three decades. Honey, you can come clean out my pipes anytime. And I won’t complain about plumber’s ass either, you can be sure of dat.

Back to my D-men: let’s hope we can stop the bleeding tonight before we slide even further down the list. Can someone remind me why we paid all that money for Juan Pierre? Sorry Juan, I love ya, but please show me the money.

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Dodgers vs. Washington Nationals

Well, by the second game of this three game series, it was shaping up as a rout in favor of the Dodgers but the Nationals woke up on Thursday and realized they had a baseball game to go to. I have to admit, Tuesday’s game (especially the outfielding) was just so pitiful I actually felt sorry for the Nationals and was hoping that they could at least get a run or two so that they wouldn’t lose all taste for the game. I was surprised to see them rally on Thursday and beat the pants off the boys in blue.

There is some potential for hotness on the Nationals’ team, in the form of Ryan Zimmerman. Now, success isn’t always a cuteness guarantee, but it rarely hurts. Z-man delivered the goods with that dogged intensity that’s always an attention getter. I googled his name looking for photos and what was the first link that turned up? A gay sports board with a men-of-baseball appreciation thread, which included a frank appraisal of the Zimmerman sex appeal. Glad to know I’m not the only one.

Note to Nationals: Get rid of those tacky puppet-headed mascots. They are not helping you in your drive to be taken seriously.

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Angels vs. Mariners @ Angel Stadium

OK, watching this game was a bit of a switch-up for me since the Angels are our hometown rivals, but the Dodgers are on the road today and I couldn’t let Memorial Day go by without watching a game. As a child, I spent every single Memorial Day at my grandparents’ house by the beach, watching my uncle burn the steaks and corn on the cob on the BBQ and listening to Vin Scully call the game over background noise consisting of squabbling cousins and barking poodles. Carrying on that grand tradition, I settled in to watch the “Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim” (sorry, but that name will always be in quotes, for me) battle Seattle. Coming off their series against the Yankees, they looked kinda beat. I was willing to find hotness, friends, but I struggled. Casey Kotchman is almost OK but he loses points for blandness. Ya know ya gotta have either youthful enthusiasm or old-hand blase attitude, or you can change it up and have youthful blase or old-hand enthusiasm, but you gotta have somethin’. Erwin Santana’s evil juju gameface had caught my eye in a previous game but he was nowhere to be found (pitching tomorrow, I think.) I had no choice but to turn to the Mariners, who were winning 12-4 through most of the game. What did I see?? Several cuties in the dugout who never came out to the light of day…I just hate that. It’s like being at a smorgasbord with your mouth sewn shut. Miguel Batista who has those sexy light eyes (and according to has authored a book of poetry in his native Spanish!) on the mound. And of course Beltre’s two home runs. Did you know he used to be a Dodger?

All in all, the best cute (as opposed to hot) moment was watching that Angels guy (forgot his name) making his major league debut and getting on base. You could tell he was STOKED but trying to stay cool. Enthusiasm is hot, man! Enjoy the moment.

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Opening Day

Welcome to, which within the first 15 minutes of its existance was nicknamed the S-Mob. Women and baseball go together like whipped cream and strawberries, but for some reason broadcasters rarely play up the sexy. That’s a big financial mistake. Look around at any baseball game, my friends. How many women do you see? At Dodgers games it’s about a 50/50 split–or at least a hell of a lot closer to it than than at a football or hockey game. That’s because of love of the sport, and HOT MEN. Ask Alyssa Milano: girlfriend knows her baseball.

Are there any unsexy men who play baseball? Yes, unfortunately there are, but we don’t have time to dwell on those. We’ll let The Phoenix do it for us (best calls-though not baseball related—#85 and #47 with #5 taking honorable mention.) There are just too many S-Mob hotties to worry about to bring out the few that don’t make the cut.

Fellow female fans, I need your help. As a loyal Dodger watcher, I really only know my boys in blue. Of course, a random cutie on the opposing team will always catch my eye, but I can’t pretend to be an expert outside my own bailiwick. Let’s expand our knowledge of this sport. Send me in a roster rundown of your favorite team (photos are a plus) and I’ll put it up in all its leering glory.

And now, gratuitous sexy eye candy of the day, Dodgers catcher Russell Martin:

I wish I could have found a picture of him snapped in mid-lunge, taking the box seat railing like it was a playground monkeybar yesterday afternoon, but the only good shot I’ve found is locked up tighter than Grady’s ass on the Dodgers site and nobody’s even posted a clip on YouTube. Check out the clip on or just wait for the end of year “greatest moments” shows.

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