Bud "Don't Blame Me" Selig: A Timeline of Fuckuppery

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Bud "Don't Blame Me" Selig: A Timeline of Fuckuppery

. Thursday, February 19, 2009

"Who me?" - a theme of his time as Commissioner

Do you ever think about the assumptions we operate under as baseball fans? Every day, we wake up, go to work, and (for some of us) write blog posts while under certain assumptions. We assume that players are overpaid, that the sport has priced itself out from under the asses of many traditional fans, and that there's no damn way you can assume that any of the MLB records from the past 15 years are untainted. We just go along with a wink and a nudge when talking about record-breaking feats that should inspire baseball partisans. Sammy and Big Mark blasting them out every day in '98 was magical at the time - now it's just a crappy plastic memory. You can't even say "my favorite player would never do this," because unimpeachable specimens of old-school hustle and true character have already cheated and lied and been caught. I'm looking at you, Viagra pitchman and former Cub Rafael Palmeiro. All the while, one man has been watching over the shit shack - former Brewers owner Bud Selig. He makes $18 million a year, a salary that makes Jason Marquis look like an unexpected bargain. But don't blame him for the steroid era, even though the Steroid Era and the Bud Selig Era run concurrently.

1992 - Comissioner Fay Vincent (the guy who wanted the Cubs to play West Coast games all year) pisses off the league so much that they kick him out. Enter Brewers president Allan Huber Selig. Or "Bud," as the desperate-for-a-nickname-other-than-"Dingleberry" interim comissioner would have you call him. The same year, a Canadian team wins the World Series. Coincidence, or portent of doom? Either way, evil 1992 warded off by emergence of Mr. Baseball, and the Selleck-based joy that followed.

1993 - ARG! Fucking CANADIANS AGAIN! Also, Atlanta catches on fire. But they're already used to that, right?

"I'd answer your question, but I'm currently firing out a wicked deuce"

1994 - Hey! No baseball at all! Thanks, fuckface! Bang-up job there. At least it gave us all an opportunity to catch up on our Japanese while cheering on the Yomiuri Giants to Super Happy Terrific Crazy Time Victory Party.

1995 - Souvenir baseball day at Dodger Park turns into "huck fastballs at the umpire and cause your team to forefeit" day. Not Bud's fault, but a pretty hilarious fuck-up anyway.

"Who dressed me in a Pirates trash bag? I DEMAND to know!"

1996 - Yankess win the series, and darkness washes across the land. This sets the stage for years of luxury tax goldbricking by the soulless fucks from the Bronx. Bud politely clears throat, then pisses pants.

"Hey, guys, check out my Southern redneck sheriff impression"

1997 - The Brewers join the NL in a move orchestrated by Mr. Selig and owners. Division games just got 30 percent more annoying and 400 percent fatter!

1998 - Mr. Bud is finally made into a full comissioner. By coincidence, two formerly mediocre players - suddenly and magically built like He-Man action figures - smash one of the oldest records in baseball. During the same year. Bud practices his nonchalant whistling.

[2001-2003 - EIGHT Texas Rangers are using steroids, including Golden Boy. Anyone paying attention?]

"What-roids? Sorry, I couldn't hear you - next question."

2001 - Barry Bonds suddenly hits 73 home runs, 24 more than he will ever hit again. Nope, nothing suspicous here. Move along.

Oh, and also, Bud was charged with Racketeering for attempting to contract the Expos and Twins. The Twins, mind you, prove to be heads and shoulders better than the fucking Brewers.

2002 - The All-Star game ends in a crap-ass tie. It's the lamest All-Star game ever at that point in history. It is, however, soon exceeded in levels of shittiness by every lame over-marketed All-Star game that follws. "This time it counts!" My ass.

2003 - I don't seem to recall a 2003 baseball season. Do you?

You wish, Bud

2004 - Baseball finally agrees on a drug policy. Fans reply with a rousing "what the hell took you so long?"

2005 - Eggggghhhhhhhh. Fever Pitch. Eggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh.

2006 - Bud's beloved World Baseball Classic is stillborn into the world, beginning the great tradition of General Managers talking their star players out of suiting up for their countries. Somehow, the U.S. loses to Canada and fails to make the semis. What madness hath Bud wrought?

"Barry who? BAL-what? I can't hear you. Have I told you about the majesty and wonder of the World Baseball Classic? Here, have a WBC cap. That'll be $35."

2007 - Barry Bonds concludes wiping his ass on the legacy of the great players who came before him. Two douchebags fight over the accursed ball and eventually end up with nothing but an assload of laywer's fees. Bud wonders why his patented Home Run Dog and Pony Show isn't selling quite so well this time around.

2008 - Don't worry, Barry Bonds is out of baseball. Clean cut, All-American (well, All-Dominican) Alex Rodriguez will soon reclaim the record for roid-free, honest players ...

2009 - Well, fuck. Golden Boy admits to roids, Yankees spending reaches $200 million, and every sensible fan thinks that the last 15 years of stats is bullshit. Thanks Bud. Here's your sack of money.