are whiny FUCKEN CUNTS!!

a big, yet quiet, "fuck you" to the cardinals...
can't wait for those whiny pussies to try to say adrian was taunting them
he was... but funny how you punks will conveniently forget/ignore that it was you who started it
and btw... all the pressure is now on you

Adrian Gonzalez's 'Mickey Mouse' antics get real with two homers as Dodgers win Game 5
Tim Brown | Yahoo Expert -- 14 hours ago​

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LOS ANGELES – The honest truth is, according to his reputed friends in the clubhouse, Adrian Gonzalez does resemble a certain well-known celluloid rodent.

"He has those kinda big ears," Jerry Hairston said.

Uh-huh. No. Don't.

"He looks like him," Hairston insisted. "He does. We were so glad when they called him Mickey Mouse. Now we all do."

Well, that's not how that was supposed to work out at all. Not when a couple of NLCS games back Gonzalez was accused by the St. Louis Cardinals of "Mickey Mouse" tactics, for gloating or taunting or gesturing or chirping or whatever it was that irked the Cardinals that day.

See you in St. Louis. Why? Because the Los Angeles Dodgers won Game 5.

Whatever came over Gonzalez on Wednesday afternoon brought on one of the most ostentatious bat flips of his career. And summoned the notion to pantomime those Mickey Mouse ears, because a Cardinals pitcher – Adam Wainwright – had accused him of being just that childish, and because Gonzalez's teammates have adopted that as his unofficial nickname, and maybe because it looked fun to be so goofy.​

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The Dodgers' Adrian Gonzalez flashes mouse ears after his third-inning homer. (AP Photo)

Gonzalez plays the game with reserved competency ordinarily. But, one supposed, Gonzalez and the rest of the Dodgers had little to lose by lightening up, by reveling in whatever it was the Cardinals think of them.

Hell, the Dodgers had Ron Burgundy read the lineup card pregame, and Mr. Chow ("The Hangover" guy) stand on the dugout in the early innings shrieking at people to cheer. What's a little Disney in the day?

They'd defeated the Cardinals 6-4 at a Dodger Stadium with several hundred empty seats in it. They'd hit four home runs, two by Gonzalez, the first with great ceremony. They'd run the NLCS to a Game 6 on Friday in St. Louis, and gotten the ball to Clayton Kershaw, which is all they had to play for in Game 5, and then they'd see if they didn't have a few more outbursts in them. Or runs. Or something.

Hanley Ramirez irately dumped a couple Gatorade buckets in the dugout, and Yasiel Puig seemed as though he would stand in the batter's box until plate umpire Ted Barrett changed his strike-three call, forever if it took that long, or maybe he just didn't want to go back and wade through the dugout, like everybody was a little jumpy, a little edgy, a little unwilling to be done in five.

"I hope so," said A.J. Ellis, who hit a hanging splitter in the seventh inning for the third of those four home runs. "I hope there was an edge today. We were a little flat yesterday, honestly."

The Cardinals had pitched them into that mess, and the Dodgers had hit themselves into it, and so the best the Dodgers could hope for was one more game. Kershaw off in the distance. Game 7 after that. In the meantime, you suppose, there's so little to do but show up, and laugh at yourself, and watch Zack Greinke go seven strong, and try to put the bat barrel on something. The Dodgers hadn’t hit a home run since the division series, and on Wednesday they tied the club's postseason record for home runs in a game.

Along came Gonzalez, one of the Boston Red Sox castoffs who'd been to the postseason once before in a decade-long career. While Ramirez plays to protect his ribs and is not near the offensive player he was before Joe Kelly's fastball, and Andre Ethier hobbles on a sore ankle, the lineup turns to Gonzalez. He, in turn, gives it a bat flip with hang time and a grin and some big, round ears. He homered in the third to give the Dodgers a 3-2 lead and in the eighth for a 6-2 lead. On the latter, he dropped his bat, looked straight ahead, did not get a glare from Yadier Molina, and did not go full Mickey on the dugout.

"I was just having fun with the comment that was made earlier [in the series]," he said. "Nothing against them or anything."​

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Actor Ken Jeong rallies the Dodger faithful during Game 5 (AP)

No. Course not.

"I'm going to retire them," he said of the ears, though his teammates may think that impossible without a scalpel.

Beside him, Carl Crawford, who'd homered in the fifth inning, protested. "Once you start it, you've got to keep going," he said. "I'm pretty sure it rubbed them the wrong way, and they're going to use that as some kind of fuel, so you might as well keep doing it, Adrian."

Said Gonzalez: "Hey, if Carl wants them, it's for him, not for anybody else."

This is how the Dodgers began the climb from down 3-1 in the series. And this is how the Cardinals reached for the kill shot, up 3-1. A year ago, ahead by the same margin in the NLCS against the San Francisco Giants, they"d lost the next three, by a cumulative score of 20-1. This, they'd believe, is not the start of that.

"Right now," Cardinals manager Mike Matheny had said, pregame, "just keep playing the game."

It'll take one more. At least one more.

Hairston, sticking by his separated-at-birth story, is not on the postseason roster. So he watches. And he laughs. Bats fly, and ears appear, and the Dodgers hang around for one more. At the end of the day, the Dodgers had grinded, they'd pitched, and they'd gotten a few fat pitches to hit. He'd loved the passion and been unscathed by the Gatorade bucket. They'd all go to St. Louis and try again.​

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"You know," he said, "I like to be entertained. And I was."​

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lol

good
that's what they get for pointing fingers and then acting like victims
and who the fuck appointed them (and the braves) mlb's etiquette committee?
fucken self-righteous, hypocritical, whiny, cunt, fuck bkitches!
:angry:
dodgers in 7!!!
a whole new blue indeed :irish:

 

let the whining begin (resume)...
one-sided perspective from a cards fan...
lol at "the dodgers and their childish antics"
whiny bkitches

Cardinals Are Getting Pushed Around by Dodgers' Antics
Manager Mike Matheny Needs to Channel His Inner La Russa and Turn His Enforcers Loose
By Kevin Reynolds | Yahoo Contributor Network – 26 minutes ago​

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COMMENTARY | There's nothing really to dispute -- the St. Louis Cardinals got pushed around by at Dodger Stadium in Game 5 of the NLCS.

The players with the birds on the bat are caught in between here.

On one hand, the celebrated Cardinal Way suggests turning the other cheek and just playing the game when others choose to display their foolishness for everyone to see. More often than not, the Redbirds' focus and dedication to actual baseball wins out.

But players like Adam Wainwright and Carlos Beltran are also human beings, and being mocked or taunted -- or, yes, even challenged as the infantile Adrian Gonzalez did with his dugout-directed bat flip -- tends to irritate them.

I'm honestly surprised Chris Carpenter hasn't incited a benches-clearing brawl by screaming at Gonzo -- the goofy Muppet nickname kind of fits, now -- from the Cardinals' dugout. Come to think of it, considering the Cardinals' uninspired play lately, maybe he should.

Something has to jar the St. Louis squad out of its stupor.

If the tried-and-true method of ages past isn't working, maybe it's time to try a method employed more recently by former Cardinals manager Tony La Russa.

Turn the enforcers loose.

Matheny's calm and cool approach is admirable, and is likely responsible for the Redbirds' ability to endure a season-long marathon afflicted by injuries and obstacles, but it seems to be handcuffing his players now.

Over the last several years, we've witnessed teams like the Milwaukee Brewers, the Cincinnati Reds and even the once-relevant Chicago Cubs and Houston Astros challenge the Cardinals on the field. And we've seen players like Jim Edmonds, Albert Pujols, Yadier Molina and Chris Carpenter push back.

No one pushes back from the St. Louis side of the field anymore.

When Mike Matheny took over, too many fans and Cardinals employees were ready to move on from the drama and bitterness that seemed to color the La Russa era near the end. Weary of heated disputes and on-field brawls with characters like Johnny Cueto and Dusty Baker, the Cardinals just wanted to play baseball.

But now we see why La Russa felt it necessary to push back.

Matheny's players are stuck. As they did with TLR, they're trying to emulate the personality of their manager. In Mike's case, that means keeping your head down and playing the game. For players in the heat of an October battle, that approach must be maddening.

This is an emotional game with mountain-top successes and deep-valley failures. And those roller-coaster experiences are only magnified in the postseason. They need an outlet. They need a way to push back.

They need permission to unleash their natural aggressiveness and regain some pride.

With Michael Wacha on the mound for Game 6, the Cardinals can't afford to drill anyone in the Dodgers' lineup early in the game. They can't risk losing their most dominant starter in a potential series-clinching game.

But Chris Carpenter has nothing to lose. Let him rant and rave from the top step of the dugout in Busch Stadium.

And surely Yadier Molina can say a few choice words to Adrian Gonzalez or Yasiel Puig when they're standing in the box. Just enough to set them off and get something started.

No, we're not looking for any punches to get thrown -- although I wouldn't mind watching Puig duke it out with Molina at home plate -- but a good 'ol fashioned push-around on the field could be just what this Redbirds team needs to cut loose.

And make no mistake, they need to cut loose.

It's clear the Dodgers are in the Cardinals' heads at this point in the series. The shadow of Mickey Mouse hanging over the Cardinals' at-bats is almost palpable. They can't hit, they can't execute, and it seems they can't respond.

Matheny needs to give them permission to push back.

The Dodgers enter Busch Stadium on Friday, October 18 with all the swagger of a team one win away from a World Series -- but it's the Cardinals who hold that distinction, not the Hollywood Showmen of the Cuban Theatrical League.

It's time for the Cardinals to remind their opponent of just who, exactly, they're playing. Busch Stadium is hallowed ground in St. Louis. It's time to defend it as such.​

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Kevin Reynolds is the author of Stl Cards 'N Stuff and host of The State of the Nation Address​

podcast at Stl Cards 'N Stuff. He's been writing and podcasting about the St. Louis Cardinals​

since 2007 and can be found chatting about baseball on Twitter (@deckacards).​

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YOU CAN'T HATE THE DODGERS
By David Roth | SB Nation -- Oct 18 2013, 9:03 am


Jeff Curry-USA TODAY Sports

There is no single way for a baseball team to be, but there are a few ways that baseball teams generally more-or-less are. There are the grim, coppish grit-farmers -- think of the bilious Arizona Diamondbacks, so weirdly eager to Water The Tree Of Liberty with the blood of those who don't sufficiently respect the game, or Atlanta's proud Party Police, protecting and serving the edicts in a thick and unwritten rulebook.

There are the teams that work like workplaces -- everyone showing up and doing things and liking each other more than not, but generally projecting not much more in the way of transcendence or fun than you'll find in the average workplace break room. And then there are the Good Time Bros, just having some scruffy fun out there and making things easy for Fox Sports producers, who are at their happiest when crafting promos built around facial hair.

The St. Louis Cardinals don't fit perfectly into any of those categories, as indeed most teams don't. They're a Workplace team, if predictably a somewhat conservative one -- this is, after all, a baseball team with baseball players on it, not the staff of a scrappy alt-weekly or organic farming collective.

They behave about like a baseball team would, and their fans -- lazily lauded and lazily loathed as The Best Fans In Baseball -- are knowledgeable, supremely devoted and passionate and so, on balance, more or less as unbearable as any other fan base. The whole St. Louis Cardinals thing is a lot easier to dislike in the abstract than the team itself is in any concrete, as-they-actually-exist state.

That there is a portion of the baseball-watching world that insists upon seeing them as an elite squad of Niedermeyers seems less like a reflection of the team itself -- which is, again, like many other teams, but a good deal better at important things -- than an echo of various annoying things associated with the team. There's the glowering ghost of Tony La Russa, the team's legendary, departed, ulcerous and pyrotechnically smug hypermanager; an image of him is on the outfield wall at Busch Stadium, beaming aggrieved vibes back towards home plate. There's the whole silly Best Fans thing, which incubates a squicky faux-understated smugness in those fully in its thrall, but is mostly annoying because of how endlessly and fatuously it is repeated.

But the Cardinals are not complicated, really -- they're a fantastically good organization in most every way, and well-supported by an appreciative fan base. Depending on your perspective, there either is or isn't something interesting about the specifics of all that. There is, objectively, nothing all that weird about it. The Cardinals, as one of the game's worst cliches has it, play the game played as the game was meant to be played. We know how to handle this sort of good, not-strange team, which is with some combination of admiration and grudging mockery. We do not quite know, as the last months have shown, know how to handle a good, quite strange team like the Los Angeles Dodgers.



This goes beyond the dim These Two Teams Don't Like Each Other Much media narrative for the series -- all those grimly partisan rum-dummy-dum columns, self-defeatingly studded with hilariously anodyne Baseball Dude Quotes that thoroughly undercut the clash-of-civilizations narrativizing. It goes beyond, too, the thumbnail cultural attributes that make it simple to slot the coastal, diverse Dodgers into the (literal) Blue role opposite the Midwestern, more-white-than-not Red Team, and so allows sour patch masochists to re-stage our tragicomic political discourse on a baseball diamond. This is more, too, than the silly heavens-to-betsy-ing that dominated Our National Yasiel Puig Conversation during the summer.

But it is, maybe, nothing more than the Dodgers being the Dodgers. They are, too, not at all a new type of team -- in their happy rituals, brazen on-field enjoyment and generally swag-positive approach, they're a classic Party Bro team, and a fun one at that. They're also fully a Workplace team, cobbled together out of expensive parts acquired at a discount from teams that deemed them either defective or surplus to requirements. For much of the season, the Dodgers weren't even a functional Workplace team, and played in an enervated funk that suited a roster that could perhaps best have been described as Solid 2011 Fantasy Baseball Team. It's a testament to how interesting and truly strange this Dodgers team has been that both their 2013 iterations -- punk-jocky fun bunch and Grumpy Millionaires Baseballing Society -- make perfect sense.

This roster -- and this is part of the fun of the Dodgers, for those of us inclined to enjoy them -- is weird. There is Puig, the groovily overstated Cuban swagbeast at the heart of it. There is the amusingly humorless Zack Greinke and the amusingly brilliant Clayton Kershaw and the fascinating Hyun-Jin Ryu. There's Hanley Ramirez -- or was, before a broken rib brought him back to earth -- aloft in delirious, feral swing-at-and-destroy-every-pitch mode, and there's the unexpected re-emergence of the competent version of Juan Uribe. There's Adrian Gonzalez's late onset personality breakout and a passel of interchangeable utility types grit-spackling various holes and Carl Crawford's ongoing transformation into a puffier Brian McRae, which is more fun than it sounds. It's fun to watch and tough to figure how -- to paraphrase a common Cardinals fan refrain -- anyone who likes baseball can hate a team like this.

The Dodgers have projected joy as a winning team, but it's easy to imagine the same roster gone lumpy, curdled and unappealing in different circumstances. It's easy, too, to see how some of those currently co-surfing on this team's happy defiance could in time come to see them as brash, braying VIP Room jerkweeds having entirely too much fun. Because of the way this sort of thing works, a great many people who don't presently see things one way will come to view the team the other way, or both, and probably before too long.

As usual, this has more to do with us than it does with the Dodgers. Die-hards still watching their teams this late into October are fortunate, and we should be happy for them. The rest of us make varous unconscious micro-decisions -- based on various aesthetic and personal and political and geographical biases -- and so build our own bespoke collection of preferences and narratives, mostly because we're not ready to stop watching baseball just yet and also because this sort of transference is just what baseball fans do to add more feeling and fun to the game, and to life.

It's difficult for Cardinals fans and those in an October marriage-of-convenience to the Cardinals to imagine a good reason -- one not grounded in Coastal Elite smuggery or base haterdom -- why others might not like their (actually quite virtuous and admirable) team. It's difficult for Dodgers fans, those who came aboard in October and those who were walking up the hill from The Short Stop in July, to imagine how others could be so joy-averse as to resist this bright, wild team of theirs. The thing to remember, it seems, is that we're imagining all of it, all the way along the line, and also that each fan-imagination is every bit as good and distinctive as any other.

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