Check that -- all of us were robbed, because had Pierzynski won the Gold Glove, the reaction would have been hilarious. Not only is the 111th-best defensive catcher out of 114 according to Beyond the Box score's rankings, but he's also widely despised around baseball. That's two whole layers of disgust!
I was mostly sure that Pierzynski wouldn't win the Gold Glove. But had he received that distinction, my plan was to watch the angry volcano explode and collect the best of the bile.
Alas, we can only dream about what Pierzynski's reaction would've been...
...or maybe we don't have to! South Side Sox sources obtained a copy of this not-at-all-fake press release the White Sox never got to send on Pierzynski's behalf. Or maybe I actually did dream it up, typed it all out, and went back to sleep. The keyboard imprint on the right side of my face suggests the latter, but it's below the jump either way.
I am beyond thrilled to accept the AL Gold Glove. I couldn't help thinking about what I was going to say when I found out I was finalist, and now that I actually got the call and learned that I was named the best defensive catcher in the American League?
Well ... it's about damn time.
They say bases are stolen on the pitcher, and while I don't know who "they" are, I know in my heart that "they" are 100 percent correct. The experts might say that I threw out fewer runners than any other full-time American League catchers. The nerdlingers will take it a step further and point out that of the 24 runners I'm credited with gunning down, I only actually threw out 13 of them, and the rest are pickoff-induced outs by the pitcher.
Guess what, haters? This award is worth more than your lives. Check. And. Mate.
I might have only thrown out 13 runners, but that's pretty awesome given that I only had, like, 15 real chances. It's bad enough that I'm throwing into those stiff lake breezes, but look at what I'm working with:
Gavin Floyd? His leg kick is so high and slow that he wipes his nose on his kneecap when it's cold out. I have to throw a soft fly ball to second when Phil Humber's on the mound, because the play's already behind him when he starts to duck. Jake Peavy is screaming at me while I'm trying to catch the ball, which is distracting, and I can't really throw from my stomach after diving to the on-deck circle to block an Edwin Jackson slider. The relievers don't care, because most of the time it's not their baserunner. You could take any of these guys, have them pitch from second base with me squatting on the mound, and I'd still have no chance.
So that sucks. And on top of that, how am I supposed to know when Alexei Ramirez feels like catching my throws? The reason why I aim my cannon 10 feet left of second base is because that's the direction he's falling. It's called leading your receivers, go look it up.
And if I didn't call these guys out in public, I'd look even worse. That's leadership with a capital LEADERSHIP. Throw in my 1,000-inning streak and my ninja-quick pitch-blocking ability, and why wouldn't I get the Gold Glove? The better question is, "Why isn't this my 10th?"
P.S. Buehrls is cool, I guess.