Today on Hardball Talk, Craig Calcaterra points us to an interview with Luke Scott at the Winter Meetings. The talk centers on the things that you would probably expect Luke Scott to talk about, hunting and gun totin' and Ted Nugent, right up to the point where he gets all rant-y and misinformed:
Obama … hmm … Obama does not represent America. Nor does he represent anything what our forefathers stood for … He was not born here. That’s my belief. I was born here. If someone accuses me of not being born here, I can go — within 10 minutes — to my filing cabinet and I can pick up my real birth certificate and I can go, “See? Look! Here it is.
I implore you to read the whole interview (at least the last half), because it just can't be adequately summarized in a small blockquote. I mean, wow. Just, wow.
So, it doesn't really matter to me what Luke Scott's politics are. In fact, I don't care at all about an individual's political beliefs, especially in sports. That is, until a couple of things happen: 1. You use your "fame" as a soapbox to start to impose your beliefs on someone else (see: Curt Schilling), 2. You spout off factually incorrect information and develop crazy opinions based on crazy rhetoric and the crazy opinions of others.
I don't suffer fools. If you can make a reasoned argument for anything then I will listen and respond in-kind. And hey, everyone's entitled to their opinion--this is America, dammit--but if your opinion is crazy, then I'm entitled to make fun of you for it, and/or not like you because of it.
Of course, all of this is just supporting evidence about why Luke Scott may be my least favorite player in all of baseball, despite the fact that he plays for my hometown Orioles which, I admit, I have taken a bit shine to since I've moved to Baltimore. No, I hate him for much more pure, apolitical reasons. He destroys the Tigers.
Note a two day sequence from 2009.
May 28th, in "Tiger Killer Kills Tigers":
Scott demolished the Tigers in the series. If I recall, he his an extra inning walk-off that landed on Eutaw Street for one of the games. He was a beast. The Tigers split the series, stayed below .500 and never recovered. Scott went on to make the "Top Ten Tiger Killers" list at Number 3Oh, that was actually my summary of what he did to the Tigers in 2008. As for that night...
Flash forward to tonight. Galarraga forces a double play to clear the bases in the second inning. Luke Scott steps to the plate for his first at bat. I turn to my wife and say "Boy, I'm glad that those bases are empty." Scott swings and sends the ball to the land of the untouchables. 1-0 O's. 8th Inning. 2 runners on and Scott steps up. I say to my wife: "This out would be huge. This guy is a Tiger Kill..." Untouchable. 5-1 O's. Game Over.
Sometimes a player just owns another team. Luke Scott owns the Tigers. There is nothing that they can do. I would intentionally walk him every time there are runners on base. It is absolutely ridiculous.
On May 29th I came to grips with reality in "Why I Blog, Luke Scott Edition"
I blog because of Luke Scott. At least, he is why I blog about baseball cards. If I didn't, I might feel compelled to blog about baseball in general or the Tigers specifically. I don't think that I could put myself through it. I couldn't handle a world where so much rested on each pitch--I am already tormented as a fan. Baseball cards at least, are portraits and snapshots of happier times. I will never have a Tigers card that shows Luke Scott trotting around the bases in front of a scoreboard that reads "Luke Scott 9, Orioles 3, Tigers 3". But that's what I get when I look at the box scores. Baseball cards are neutral, they allow me to forget.
Which brings me to another thing. From here until the end of time, I will destroy every Luke Scott baseball card that I pull from packs. I know this seems overly dramatic and unnecessary, but I feel as though I will get this sick pleasure out of it. Oh, and I'll find new and fun ways to destroy the cards.
There's nothing wrong with a little healthy player-hate when said player kills your team, consistently and crushingly. It would be harder to do if it turned out that the player you hate is actually a great guy, or a smart, well-reasoned, well-spoken, hard-working player.
But if you're a fucking crackpot? Fuel to the fire, my friend, fuel to the fire.