Party like I’m &

Party like I’m &

“Cum to NYC” said the text on my phone.

“Why?” I replied.

“Need a wingman. That girl from Israel with the big tits.” My friend Mike had gone to Israel for a week the previous month. It was one of those free trips sponsored by our government for some reason where Jewish college students get to fuck and drink on a desert.

“How big?”

“The biggest. Tremendous. Life-changing tits.”

He called me fifteen minutes later to give me the details. The girl from his trip, not the one he banged, the one he wanted to bang but didn’t, she invited him out to dinner with her and her friend. She had a friend so he needed one as well. He called me.

I’m not good with girls, but I’m better than all of my aspie basement-dwelling World of Warcraft-playing friends. She had a friend and they were meeting at a restaurant in Manhattan at 8. I told him I was broke. He said I wouldn’t have to spend any money. I told him I was not well-dressed – it’s casual Friday and I’d have to come straight from work. That’s fine he assured me, we were drinking at all our spots in Brooklyn. “Good”, I said. I like Brooklyn. Barcade, Union Pool Hall, nice low-key joints where you could just hang out, talk, and relax.

I worked an extra two hours of unpaid overtime, sat through an hour of traffic, and then parked by the hotel the girls were staying at. Always paranoid of getting my car ticketed or towed in the city, I stopped a meter maid and asked her if it was okay to park where I was. She assured me it was fine. “The whole night?” I asked. “The whole night.” She said.

I walked over to the restaurant and walked through the door 30 minutes late. I see Mike with the two girls and say “Hi. Hold on I gotta piss.” I had been holding it in for the past two hours. I pissed for what felt like 10 minutes. It was great. Almost felt like I was coming. I reenter the dining area and make the formal introductions. Mike is nervous, awkward. The girls are aloof and not hiding the fact that they’re thoroughly unimpressed by me.

The one with big tits is alright looking. Not too spectacular. She looks half-Mexican or acts half-Mexican. I don’t know. Not my type, but she does have big tits. The other one was exactly my type. Cute, blonde, dumb, entitled, thinks she’s better than me.

The one with the tits goes “We had been saving this chair for you for the past 30 minutes.” I look at Mike. Mike apologizes and takes the fall. “And I told you to tell him to wear dress shoes.” I look down at my feet. Scuffed up Nikes. I pan up. Old jeans. I continue. Green logoless thriftshop sweatshirt. “I thought we were going to Brooklyn.” “My fault again.” Said Mike.

“Are you gonna order something? We have been saving this seat for you.” Said Bitchy McBigTits.

There’s something terrifying about being attacked before you can settle in. It took having a job before I realized why when I was a kid my dad seemed to hate me every time I would maul him with affection as soon as he would get home from work.

“I’ll get a drink.”

“You should really order food.”

They had already finished theirs. I was broke. The least expensive thing on the menu was $25. I disliked them already and just wanted to drink.

“I’m only getting drinks.”

She scrunched up her face and started to say something before the blonde stopped her. In my head I heard her say, “Stop. He’s not worth it.” But I know she said something far less combative. It really seemed like these two hated me and everything I stood for as soon as I sat down.

“Listen, I know the owners so I think you should get something to eat. My family has connections in the restaurant industry so I know how this works. They lose out on money when people sit down at a table and don’t order anything.”

Annoyed, I replied, “Okay, well I worked in the restaurant industry for 8 years. What you don’t seem to understand is I am making them money. A) There are at least 4 other empty tables in this place. B) If I wasn’t here, the three of you would still be sitting at a 4-top. They just added me to it and I’m spending $12 on a Jamo and Ginger. That’s money in their pocket. If they want me to order something they can ask me to, but I will decline and leave, as would Mike. But they wouldn’t do that because then they’d be losing out on money.”

She said something bitchy back. I forget what it was, but I didn’t have a comeback for it. It just kind of stayed in the air and set a tone between us for the rest of the night. When it came time to split the bill, she tried to get us to split it 4 ways. I threw down the money for the drink and a tip, nothing else, and I left to smoke a cigarette while they figured out the rest.

From there we went to their hotel room. It was very nice. They were spoiled NYC kids with rich fathers. They do this all the time they said.

Then we went to the bar at the top of the hotel. It was also very nice, and expensive. Mike and I chainsmoked cigarettes while the girls ignored us. Their friend came too. He was black but spoke white. He was entirely unforgettable. I shouldn’t have even included him in this story. He desperately wanted to fuck the one with big tits, but no one else could tell. The girls kept disappearing for 10 minute intervals and coming back. I tried to make conversation with the black kid. It wasn’t worth the effort.

Eventually the girls came back. I tried to make conversation with them too, particularly, just the blonde. She was more attractive and hated me less. She told me she dated a UFC fighter. She was very proud of this. “Oh Calvin [that’s me] dated a girl who dated one of the Jonas Brothers. They wrote a song about her.” I laughed. I forgot about that, but it’s true.

“I met him in Las Vegas, he took me out to dinner, but I wasn’t feeling it.” she said. I think that’s codeword for they fucked and he never talked to her again. “That’s it?” I asked. “That’s it.” She confirmed. “So you didn’t really date him. You went on a date with a UFC fighter.” She hated me even more.

The girls wanted to go to some fancy club called RFK. I’ve never heard of it. Mike asked how much, they said it was “$400 for bottle service and $1500 for table.” There was no way this was going to happen. I didn’t even know what they meant, but I knew I couldn’t afford it. Neither could Mike who started to hate them as much as I did. “They suck!!!!” he texted me discreetly while on the rooftop. “We ditch them and go to BK in 30.”

This plan never materialized. Mike told her we were leaving and she wouldn’t stand for it. I have no idea why. She clearly didn’t like either of us, but somehow agreed to pay for both of our entries into the club.

Standing in line, the big fear was that I wouldn’t get in. Everyone else was wearing Hugo Boss suits, or I don’t know, whatever is more expensive than Hugo Boss. I was wearing sneakers and a plain green sweatshirt I bought at a thrift shop for $4. They let us in regardless.

We walk in and immediately we are the ugliest people there. Everyone is beautiful. Like a different species altogether. The place just screams money. We hang with the girls for a little while we drink their bottle. Once we kill it I tell Mike I can’t spend another second with them so we have to ditch. We do.

We wander around looking at all of these people who’ve had it so much better than us. “Tell people I’m the youngest son of the guy who founded Penthouse.” Says Mike.

“Okay, tell people I’m a rapper.”

“What’s your rapper name?” he asks.

I think for a second then come up with “DJ Ampersand, but spelled ‘DJ&’.” He laughs.

We walk around for a while. We get a good look at everybody. Okay, those people are probably in a band. Those are models. That looks like a bachelor party. Models. Wall Street hot shot. Trust fund kids. Models.

Finally we pick out our first mark. It was a table inside of the only people there who, almost as much as us, looked like they didn’t fit in. They were nerds. They didn’t know how to stand like men or wear their suits. I went over and started a conversation with the only girl there.

 

Not three exchanges into the conversation does the nerdiest looking one of the bunch come over with this childlike excitement in his eyes shouting “My IPO just dropped!” That’s fantastic news I tell him. “You know, I work for a hedge fund. What’s the name of your company, maybe I’ll invest.” He tells me and then proceeds to explain in intricate detail every facet about stupid company. Not really listening while I’m filling up my glass with his Johnnie Walker Blue, I see Mike sheepishly watching from afar. I grab Mike and introduce him, telling the 32-year-old owner of a newly public company that this is my husband. I did it only because I was bored and wanted to make Mike feel uncomfortable. I also hoped it would help get me out of this conversation faster, but it did not. We stayed there listening to his life story until the bottle was done, and then we moved on. “Wait, I’ll get us another bottle.” I heard as we walked away.

What a sad man.  He just became a millionaire, his dream has just been realized, and all he cares about is my affection. “I’m pretty hammered off of that Blue Label. I don’t think you’re supposed to drink that stuff fast. You must be gone.” Mike tells me.

We move on to another table. A bunch of guys about our age. They look like what I imagine Yale’s rowing team to look like. We talk, they’re boring and don’t care about our existence. Naturally. You’re rich kids surrounded by models, why would you give a fuck about anything else. However, the fact that those girls were a possibility for them enraged me. I dumped as much of their bottle into our glasses as I could while they weren’t looking. One of the bigger ones stops me as I’m walking away. I’m not nervous, just interested in seeing what kind of excuse I’ll come up with and whether or not it will work. “Hey, do you like rap?”

Caught off-guard, but remembering my alter-ego, I start “Actually, I’m a rapper…”

“Do you know who that is?” he interrupts pointing into the crowd. “The one with all the tattoos. That’s Spooky J. Off of the Black Ax label.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he was on Jimmy Fallon last night. Dude goes hard. Swear to god he’s the future. He’s like Freddie Gibbs mixed with J. Cole.”

 

“Nah, he’s a punk. I’d spit circles around him. Bet he can’t even freestyle.”

“Are you good?”

 

“Top off my glass and I’ll spit for you. Don’t feel like going back to the bar.”

He obliges and I rapped a few verses. I did very well. The lyrics weren’t mine, but from a talented underground rapper I was hoping he wouldn’t know. He didn’t.

“That was AWESOME! I know hip-hop. You’re gonna be big.”

“No thanks, I like the view from my throne atop the New York underground.” I said trying to sound like a douche.

He stares at me like an idiot. “DJ Ampersand. Come to a show sometime.” I walk away.

When I drink, I go through periods of intense clarity and then periods of nothing until the intense clarity comes back. At this moment I’m talking to Spooky J. I don’t remember how we began our conversation, but I know he sees me as being disrespectful towards he and his crew. I’m very drunk at this point and angry for some reason. He’s with two very large men, presumably bodyguards, and four very attractive girls.

Mike is next to me, very nervous. “My dad owns Penthouse.” he says. Spooky doesn’t care, but I think he believed it. The desperation for social proof is what sold it. The son of a powerful man would have acted in a similar manner, I thought. Freud was right. If you can’t kill your father, or so to speak, you can’t ever really announce your masculinity to the world. In a way, maybe I should be thankful my father was an unemployed drunkard for most of my life… “I ain’t never heard no DJ Ampersand.” I’m slapped back to reality.

I am very angry. Why am I so angry?

“That’s cuz I ain’t no pussy sell-out. I run the fuckin underground.”

 

“That’s sour grapes for being broke and no one showing up at their shows.”

“Nigga.” I say without thinking. Mike thanks God Spooky J is white and there aren’t any black people in his crew. “I’M THE PAUL DANO OF THIS MOTHERFUCKING RAP GAME!”

What is wrong with me? I am furious right now. Why am I so angry? Why did I just say that? Does that even make sense?

Spooky stares blankly back at me.

“I’M THE MOTHERFUCKING PAUL DANO OF THIS RAP GAME.”

 

He keeps looking. Then he laughs. “What was your name again?”

“DJ Ampersand. Spelled ‘DJ&’.” I lose clarity once again. Everything goes into autopilot. I’m not sure who’s in control of me now. I vaguely remember the following exchanges: We rap together (more from that underground rapper who has saved my life), we drink his champagne, I shout “I am the Paul Dano of this motherfucking rap game.” off of the balcony a few more times, and then we rap again with a large crowd around us.

Though I continue to drink, I slowly come back to my self. I see Mike making out with a model. A 10. Goofy, awkward-looking ginger Mike, is now making out with an actual model 4 inches taller than him in heels. I hit on one of Spooky’s girls. She rejects me. “Yo Spook. I didn’t know you got lesbians in your crew.” He laughs. He doesn’t see me as a threat. He probably sees me as a joke. I don’t care. I’m no longer angry. I enjoy the taste of his champagne. We make fun of Drake for the next 15 minutes then decide to go to the dance floor.

I can barely walk at this point and know I will be puking soon. I can’t leave. Mike needs this. On the dancefloor, we are surrounded by beautifully dressed, beautiful people. I can’t walk straight and I never could dance. I am bouncing into people. I get shoved. I shout “I am the Paul Dano of this motherfucking rap game.” and shove them back. Spooky sees this and playfully shoves me. Fastforward three minutes and we are engaged in an all out mosh pit. All of the beautiful girls have at this point run away and it’s me, Spooky, and his two bodyguards going to war with the Yale crew team. It’s intense. One Yale boy ripped his suit. I get a bloody nose. It’s gushing all over my sweatshirt. “Bad ass, dude!” Spooky says to me.

Twenty minutes later, smoking a cigarette on the balcony with Spooky trying to catch our breath, Mike runs up to me and says “I just puked on that girl. She’s really pissed. We gotta go.”

“Damn dude, you fucking know how to party.” Spooky tells me.

“Pshh, we do this every weekend.” I reply.

“Heh, I’m just shocked you’re standing.” Mike drags me away. On our way to the elevator we run into the two girls from before. They’re about as hammered as us. Big tits’ tits are falling out. The blonde runs up and hugs me excitedly. We make out. I’m not sure what’s going on. Big tits drops her purse and everything falls out. I help her pick everything up. Then I remember she’s a bitch and pocket the $20 I find on the floor.

We stumble through the exits and find our way out of the club. The blonde asks me if I need a place to crash for the night – she has a place in Brooklyn. Mike can’t come, but I can. Mike begs me not to. He needs to get home ASAP, he has work the next morning. I play the good friend and stay with Mike. “Next time.” I tell her. Big tits begs us to walk her back to her hotel. She has no idea where she is or how to get home. She’s 40 minutes from her hotel and she can barely stand. We ditch her.

Walking back to my car I realize, “Fuck. I’m hammered. There’s no way I can operate a vehicle right now even if I wanted.” Mike is begging me to drive drunk once we find the car. I tell him I don’t want to risk it, I’m too hammered.

Luckily for us, I guess, the car has been towed. I curse the metermaid who lied to me. We spend the next 5 hours getting it out of lock-up. It costs $800 I don’t have. “Mike, I hate you.”

Eventually I get the car out, sober up enough to drive, and get us home. I spend the next 24 hours hungover.

Six months later or two days ago, whatever, I get a text from Mike with a link. “You gotta check out this song, bro.”

I click the link. It’s a rap song from Spooky J. I listen.

Boom. Right there, 45 seconds in. I hear it. “Ladies know I’m in command, Rollin with the contraband, and Party like I’m Ampersand.”

“Fuck yeah! I’m famous” I text back.

“…kinda”

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Does Nietzsche have anarchist leanings?

Note: I wrote this a few years ago. It was not one of my better works. I had only read 3-4 chapters of the assigned reading, I was coming off of a 10-hour work shit, I had just taken adderall, only had a few hours to complete this paper, and then used certain quotations from these 3-4 chapters to twist Nietzsche’s words to fit into a certain preconceived idea I had about Nietzsche. I ended up getting a B+ or an A- on the paper, I don’t remember. The teacher was a top scholar on Nietzsche and did say I may some very good points. I have not edited the paper since I handed it in. Here it is in its entirety…

Does Nietzsche have anarchist leanings? In order to come to the conclusion of whether or not Nietzsche had anarchist leanings, we must first decipher what in fact it means to be an anarchist. An anarchist, by our definition, is someone who seeks to permanently abolish statism (the notion that a non-voluntary government should control either economic or social policy or both to some degree.). In opposition to the state, the anarchist favors a stateless society, usually in absence to any form of governance that is not completely voluntary. So does Nietzsche have anarchist leanings? If there is any passage that would expose his anarchist leanings, if he were to have any, it would be in Section 17 of his Second Essay in Geneology of Morals. So let’s take a better look at this section.
            He writes in regard to the formation of the state, “the change was not gradual or voluntary and did not manifest itself as an organic growth into new conditions, but as a break, a leap, something forced, an irrefutable disaster, against which there was no struggle nor even any ressentiment.”[1] Here it appears as though he is taking issue with, as he may claim, the “mythical” and “ahistorical” notion of the social contract. It seems he is saying that we did not in fact move out of the state of nature peacefully, voluntarily, or gradually. The state came about through violence, by the hands of the few, over the many. It appears he is in disagreement with other prominent political philosophers, such as Hobbes and Rousseau, who believed that our lives before the age of the state was one of eternal war and misery and that we unanimously came together to create a government to spare us from this evil existence. He continues, “[I]t assumes that the adaptation of a populace hitherto unchecked and shapeless into a fixed form, just as it was initiated by an act of violence, was carried to its conclusion by nothing but acts of violence—that consequently the oldest “State” emerged as a terrible tyranny, as an oppressive and inconsiderate machinery, and continued working until such raw materials of people and half-animals finally were not only thoroughly kneaded and submissive but also given a shape.”[1] Here, it appears he is comparing the state to a well-oiled machinery of violence. Again, it was not brought about through peaceful means; it was brought about through violence, and since then, has never ceased in acting violently. Every time it grows, it grows in violence. This is a popular anarchist thought and one espoused by many anti-statist philosophers. The state is inherently violent – it subsists on taxation and would fall without it. If one does not consent to taxation, then it is equivalent to theft or extortion, and thus immoral (in the eyes of many taxpayers). If I am not willing to give the government the money it demands, then I will be met with violence. I will be taken away by men with guns and put in a cage for an arbitrary number of years. I must either submit to the state and all that it commands of me, or I can disobey (peacefully or violently), and yet still I will be met with violence. This is the case with anything the state demands from its citizens. Every state is tyrannical. The government is not a slave to our wills (or our votes); we are slaves to the government. Perhaps even worse than the inherently violent nature of the state, is its ability to rob us of our identity. Rather than let man be free to grow and prosper and choose his own ends, it shapes man into that which it requires for subjection. Man, constantly abused by the state, like most victims of abuse, is afflicted by a case of ‘learned helplessness.’ He gives up. Rather than fight back he surrenders. He is no longer a man, for any a priori definition of man requires that man be free. So what has man now become? He is an animal, he is a slave, he is dead.
            Nietzsche goes on further to define the state and the atrocities it commits. He writes, “I used the word “State”: it is self-evident who is meant by that term— some pack of blond predatory animals, a race of conquerors and masters, which, organized for war and with the power to organize, without thinking about it, sets its terrifying paws on a subordinate population which may perhaps be vast in numbers but is still without any form, is still wandering about. That is, in fact, the way the “State” begins on earth. I believe that fantasy has been done away with which sees the beginning of the state in a “contract.” The man who can command, who is by nature a “master,” who comes forward with violence in his actions and gestures—what has he to do with making contracts! We do not negotiate with such beings.”[1] Again he goes back to the origins of the state and attempts to dispel the notion that there was some sort of voluntary contract (that once existed or perhaps still exists today) that legitimizes the state’s rule over man. This is what the state is; a pack of predatory animals ruling over those without claws, or those who refuse to use them. This is how it has come into existence; violence and force. Make no mistake about it, and do not listen to the fools who try to paint a false but more palatable picture, it was a baptism in blood, and man is still licking his wounds. Yet, the line “sets its terrifying paws on a subordinate population which may perhaps be vast in numbers but it still without any form, is still wandering about” may be a call to arms urging man to find his way and rebel against the state to embrace cooperation in a stateless existence. We are still lost, wandering about, but perhaps one day soon we can find our way. Perhaps we don’t need the state to be our shepherd and sovereign, perhaps we can be shepherds unto ourselves? He goes on further to lambaste the notion of the social contract, “I believe that fantasy has been done away with which sees the beginning of the state in a “contract.” The man who can command, who is by nature a “master,” who comes forward with violence in his actions and gestures—what has he to do with making contracts! We do not negotiate with such beings.”[1] What is this social contract you speak of? What a bad cruel joke. Contracts are freedom, order, and a thing of true beauty. The ability to be free to make a promise or a binding contract is man’s most pure and righteous characteristic and his most dominant natural instinct. The notion of the social contract makes a mockery of something very important to Nietzsche’s philosophy; the importance of making contracts and promises. The social contract cannot be viewed in any way similar to a contract; did I make this promise explicitly? If not then it cannot be deemed valid. With whom did I make this contract? Did I sign this contract under the threat of violence? If so it is invalid. Am I allowed to break my promise? Nietzsche takes such an issue with the idea of the social contract, because he realizes how important contracts and promises are to man’s nature – to his freedom and his happiness.
            He goes on further to describe the state and those who compose it and their ability to transform man, he writes, “Their work is the instinctive creation of forms, the imposition of forms. They are the most involuntary and most unconscious artists in existence:—where they appear something new is soon present… These men, these born organizers, have no idea what guilt, responsibility, and consideration are.”[1] The state works in corrupting man’s nature. The state works in bending the will of man. The state works in turning man against his nature, and instead imposes the will of the state onto man. Man then becomes whatever the state wants it to be; quiet, ignorant, complacent, and uniform. The state, again, is inherently involuntary and violent in nature. If I don’t consent to its rule, its law, or in paying taxes, I must still do so or I will be met with violence. How is this in any way voluntary? Those who work within the system of the state, the leaders, the governors, the bureaucrats, these are men who are self-serving and perhaps even sociopathic. They do not feel guilty for using violence against the innocent populous, for ruling over men who don’t want to/need to be ruled; they do not serve the ends of those they rule, they serve only their own interests. He continues, “They are not the ones in whom “bad conscience” grew—that point is obvious from the outset. But this hateful plant would not have grown without them. It would have failed if an immense amount of freedom had not been driven from the world under the pressure of their hammer blows, their artistic violence, or at least had not been driven from sight and, as it were, made latent. This powerful instinct for freedom, once made latent—we already understand how—this instinct for freedom driven back, repressed, imprisoned inside, and finally still able to discharge and direct itself only against itself—that and that alone is what bad conscience is in its beginning.”[1] There is no guilt in these cruel slave masters, crooks, and murderers. That is for their slaves to feel. They are trapped in a rigged game, living in an unjust world, and forced to do that which deep down they know is wrong. And at the same time they know there is still very little they can do. So thus, they take that resentment and turn it inward onto themselves. They suffer, they become depressed, and once one’s instinct for freedom becomes suppressed by this outside force, they grow dead inside and cease to be man. So what is man to do? Man must rebel. He must not let the state nor any man suppress his natural instincts, his right to be free. The state can take your house, your car, and your money, but you cannot let it take that which defines you as man; your will to freedom. You must not surrender so easily and accept a life as a slave. You must strive for freedom and never tire in fighting, and yet, how can one reach this? The first step for man to be free and truly his self and his own person, is in abolishing the state.

            So far, throughout this paper, I’ve attempted to make the case that Nietzsche did have anarchist leanings. However, I cannot in good conscience say that this is completely the case. Admittedly I have been manipulating his message in such a way as to fit the anarchist agenda. I most likely have taken some of his comments out of context, intensified them, or have even put a few words in his mouth. When all of the evidence is tallied up, it appears there is more evidence in support of the claim that Nietzsche was not an anarchist. Nietzsche was not an anarchist, although many have made the argument before me. Many argued his work was influenced in a great deal by the famous German egoist and anarchist Max Stirner. Nietzsche, however, clearly is not an anarchist, and may have even disliked anarchists a great deal. In Beyond Good and Evil, he even goes so far as to call them as to compare them to dogs. He writes, “That its TEMPO, however, is much too slow and sleepy for the more impatient ones, for those who are sick and distracted by the herding-instinct, is indicated by the increasingly furious howling, and always less disguised teeth- gnashing of the anarchist dogs, who are now roving through the highways of European culture.”[2] While, Nietzsche did not identify himself with anarchists, that does not change the fact that his works housed very anti-statist sentiments. Indeed, the American anarchist Benjamin Tucker once wrote, “Nietzsche says splendid things, – often, indeed, Anarchist things, – but he is no Anarchist. It is of the Anarchists, then, to intellectually exploit this would-be exploiter. He may be utilized profitably, but not prophetably.”[3] This chapter isn’t the only example of Nietzsche’s anti-statism. In Part I, Chapter 11 of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietzsche takes aim once again at the state. He claims statism is a new religion, where people worship the state as some sort of infallible god to be blindly followed in spite of oneself. He again claims the state fosters uniformity and compliance in contrast to excellence and creativity, and that true freedom lies outside the realm of the state. Although he may have not have called himself an anarchist, he may still have some anarchist or anti-statist leanings. It is clear he is not someone who favors the existence of the state. He sees how it works in opposition to the will of the individual. Yet at the same time he idolized the worlds of the ancients and found domination to be morally permissible. If I had to guess I’d say Nietzsche just wasn’t concerned with determining the best way to structure a society. Instead he merely wanted to explain how society can evolve around people who aren’t concerned with how a society is organized. This goes back to the notion of the overman who stands above all laws, morality, social conventions, and old values. Nietzsche is more concerned with creating a world where humanity can reach its full potential than he is with creating a moral, happy, or peaceful society. Perhaps this is the sole reason he despises the state, he sees it as a barrier to the overman. How can the overman ever come if man is constantly being held in shackles by the state, his freedom and his individuality denied, and being shaped into an inferior nature that is not entirely his? Perhaps this is the reason Nietzsche opposes the state, or perhaps it is not, but whatever the reason, it is apparent that he does oppose the state. So while I cannot say he is an anarchist, he does in some ways house anarchistic leanings in so far as they both have a mutual disdain for the state.

Works Cited:
[1]: Nietzsche, Friedrich, and Ian Johnston. “On the Genealogy of Morals: Second Essay.” Web. 05 Apr. 2012. <http://records.viu.ca/~johnstoi/nietzsche/genealogy2.htm&gt;.
[2]  Zimmern, Hellen. “Beyond Good and Evil, Ch 5.” Beyond Good and Evil, Ch 5. Web. 05 Apr. 2012. <http://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/nietzsche/1886/beyond-good-evil/ch05.htm&gt;.
[3] Holub, Robert C. “Nietzsche: Socialist, Anarchist, Feminist.” Web. 5 Apr. 2012. <http://learning.berkeley.edu/robertholub/research/&gt;.

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R.A. Dickey Wins The Cy Young Award

Totally forgot about this thing. Damn.

Well anyway, as a follow-up to “My Colossal Man-Crush on R.A. Dickey”, I figured I’d post and let everyone know the man just won a Cy Young award. This is a huge achievement. Dickey, Papa’s proud.

Here is ESPN’s article on the story: http://espn.go.com/new-york/mlb/story/_/id/8633034/ra-dickey-new-york-mets-wins-national-league-cy-young-becoming-first-knuckleballer-win-award

Dear Mets Front Office, you pay this man as much as he fucking wants. He’s steadily becoming your most beloved player. He pitched the best season a pitcher has had for your team in at least 20 years. He accounted for 30% of your wins. He blew away all other NL Starting Pitchers in spite of the fact that he plays for your team and has been injured since May.

Dear R.A., I will follow you anywhere you end up. You’re awesome. And I love you.

Will try and post soon. I got some political stuff I just need to sort through and put on here.

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A New Idea for the NFL

In March of 2010, “The NFL owners voted to change an element in the overtime rule, giving a possession to the team that loses the coin toss at the start of OT if the team that wins the coin toss scores a field goal with its first possession.

The proposal passed 28-4. As it is written, the rules change applies just for the postseason, but the owners also decided to discuss adopting the changes for the regular season at their next meeting, in May in Dallas.”

In March of 2012, the owners voted to expand the playoff overtime rules to the regular season as well. To quote, “NFL owners voted to alter the current rules regarding overtime victories. The rule means that if a team scores a field goal on the first possession of overtime, the opposing team will get a possession. A touchdown on the first overtime possession will still result in sudden-death victory.”

I’m not a fan of these rules. And, no, I’m not going to advocate for something similar to the rules College football implements in OT. I’m a traditionalist when it comes to sports. I finally understand how my conservative grandparents feel. I like what I have and change is scary because it could make things worse. I like tradition. I liked our way of doing OT. I say we don’t adopt these new rules.

However, I’m still going to admit that the coin toss is lame. There’s really no better way to put it. It sucks. Sure luck is supposed to have a little bit of a factor in any sport, but as a fan, you kind of want to minimize it as much as possible. Football is a game of athletic skill. A bunch of guys playing their hearts out trying to beat the crap out of each other. If you want a game of luck, go play poker.

The coin toss is huge. If you have two teams like the Patriots and the Packers going up against each other (great offenses, mediocre defenses), you almost guarantee that the team that wins the coin toss is going to win the game. So how can we keep the “first team to score wins” element of the past, but take the luck of the coin-toss out of it?

That’s where my idea comes in. In OT, instead of having a coin-toss as the deciding factor in determining who gets the ball, you have each team’s kicker line up (by themselves) at opposing sides of the field. You start them both at the 20 yard line kicking off of a tee trying to make a field goal. If they both make it, you push them 5 feet back, Repeat. First kicker to make a field goal that the opponent misses gets the ball first.

I like this for a number of reasons. Most importantly, a) it reduces the element of luck and b) it’s more fun for the fans. Seriously, how many people enjoy the coin toss? It lasts a few seconds and then it’s over. There’s about a minute of anticipation and anxiety over whether or not you will win. You can’t cheer on your team here really. No one has ever said “Oh yeah! Great job calling heads Justin Tuck. That’s why you’re our Captain!” Either your team wins the toss and you’re happy for a few seconds or your team loses the toss and you yell “Oh, of course we lose the toss. Fucking bullshit!!” However, now you’ve just extended the game at least several minutes. You have fans cheering on their teams and their kickers. Rooting them on with every kick. There is excitement when both make it and it gets pushed back 5 yards to 30, then 35, then 40, then 45, then 50, then 55. And then “Holy Shit! Did he just make a 55 yard field goal? I knew it! I told you that’s why we didn’t overpay on David Akers.”

I don’t know. I’m sure there will be critics. There’s always critics, for instance, “Oh my God! You’re turning overtime into a circus act!! Keep things simple!” But I don’t know. What do you guys think?

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My Colossal Man-Crush On R.A. Dickey or: How Good Is R.A. Dickey Really?

I have a man-crush on R.A. Dickey. A pretty big one actually. Okay fine, I have a gigantic man-crush on R.A. Dickey. Like huge man-crush on R.A. Dickey. Like, I don’t think you understand, it’s not normal and is probably even a little unhealthy. I have a running joke with my friends that R.A. Dickey is an immortal time-traveler who also happened to be Alexander the Great and Jesus. If I had a girlfriend, she’d be jealous of how much I love R.A. Dickey.

I’ve been a die-hard Mets fan since I started watching the game. R.A. Dickey first came to the Mets in January of 2010. I’ve been a Dickey fan since late April or maybe early May. I first heard of him when I saw a headline that said something along the lines of “Mets’ Knuckleballer Dickey Throws 1-Hitter for Buffalo”. The inner four-year-old in me giggled “Haha. We have a guy on our team named Dickey? And he’s a knuckleballer? That’s hilarious!” So, I googled his name and found out he actually had an amazing story.

He was a highly touted prospect coming out of college and went in the 1st Round of the 1996 Draft to the Texas Rangers. He was initially offered a signing bonus of $810,000 until the team’s Physician noticed something peculiar. Dickey was missing the ulnar collateral ligament (whatever that is) in his elbow. Because of this, the initial offer dropped to $75,000. Dickey was once quoted in saying, “Doctors look at me and say I shouldn’t be able to turn a doorknob without feeling pain.” In spite of this he managed to pitch in 76 Major League games by the end of 2005. Though it was remarkable he could pitch at all, his stats were not remarkable in the slightest; in 261.5 IP he gave up 162 ER, giving him an average ERA of 5.58 over those 76 games (4 seasons). This is pretty far above the league average (around 4.50).

Dickey realized he wasn’t cutting it and if he wanted to stay in the Majors, he needed to make some drastic changes. In 2005, he started learning how to throw the knuckleball. After a year of experimenting with the pitch the Rangers finally gave him a chance to debut it on April 6, 2006. Aaaannnddd… In his first start, on April 6, 2006, he ended up giving up 6 home runs, tying the modern era baseball record for most home runs in a game. Dickey was immediately sent back to the minors and didn’t pitch again that season.

But he did not give up. He kept working on his knuckleball and trying to perfect it. His next major league start came the next year with the Mariners. He pitched in 32 games and posted an ERA of 5.21. The next year he pitched for Minnesota. In 35 Games he posted a 4.62 ERA, his best ERA yet. The next year he came to my team, The New York Mets. That’s when everything seemed to change for him.

Fast-forward about 2 and a half years later, and where was R.A. Dickey today? In the All-Star game, pitching a scoreless inning. We’re only half way through the season and people are already saying he’s going to win the Cy Young.

What were his stats before joining the Mets?

In 7 seasons he pitched in 144 games with 440.8 IP total. In those 144 games he posted a record of 22 wins to 28 losses. In those 440.8 IP he gave up 420 hits and 177 walks, giving him a WHIP of 1.35. In those 440.8 IP he recorded 271 strikeouts, giving him a K/9 of 5.53. In those 440.8 IP, he gave up 267 ERs, posting a 5.45 ERA.

So, what are his stats since joining the Mets?

In 2 full seasons and the first half of this season, Dickey has pitched in 77 games. In those 77 games he has a W-L record of 31-23. In those 77 games, he has pitched in 502.3 innings. In those 502.3 IP, he has given up 453 hits and 122 walks, giving him a WHIP of 1.14. In those 502.3 IP he has given up 163 earned runs, giving him an ERA of 2.92. In those 502.3 IP he has recorded 361 Ks, giving him a K/9 of 6.47.

Let’s take a look at the difference.

Pre-Mets:                                  With the Mets:
IP: 440.8                                  IP: 502.3
ERA: 5.45                                 ERA: 2.92
K/9: 5.54                                  K/9: 6.47
WHIP: 1.35                              WHIP: 1.14
W/L%: 0.44                              W/L%: 0.57

So it looks to me as if a sub-mediocre pitcher just magically transformed into an Ace right before our eyes.

And not only that, but it appears as though he’s only getting better.

Last year he was 13th in ERA and 22nd in WHIP in the league (min. 160 innings). Though, the entire time he was dealing with injuries. Still, those are pretty great numbers. There are 16 teams in the NL. According to these numbers, he could have been an Ace on at least 3 other teams.

The year before that he was 7th in ERA and 17th in WHIP.  He had a 2.84 ERA and a 1.19 WHIP, but only 11 wins. To put that in perspective, that same year C.C. Sabathia had 21 Wins, but with the same WHIP (1.19) and a worse ERA (3.18). If he had the same bats behind him and played the entire year, he could have put up 20 wins.

This year, however, Dickey is leading the league in Wins (12) and, amazingly, only has 1 loss. He’s also #2 in the league in K’s (123K’s in 120 IP) and is only 6 K’s away from leading the majors in this category as well.  He’s 5th in the league in ERA (2.92) and is leading the league in WHIP (0.93). He, maybe, kind of, (arguably) threw a no-hitter this season; or at least back-to-back one-hitters. He also had the most consecutive quality starts record going for a while. What a freaking beast! These are most definitely Cy Young caliber stats.

Oh yeah, and just for fun, he can hit also. This year he has a better batting average (.194) than Jason Bay and is only .007 away from both Ike Davis and Andres Torres. The year before last, he was the Mets’ 11th best hitter in terms of average. He had a .255 average, .018 better than our starting RF (Jeff Francoeur) and .020 better than our starting 2B (Luis Castillo).

The dude is a monster. Originally I just liked him because he had a funny name and a cool story. Now, I like him because he’s putting up the numbers Johan should have put up had he stayed healthy. Although he’s already 37, he’s a knuckler and should be in this league for a lot longer. Remember, fellow knuckler, Phil Niekro pitched until he was 48.

Seriously though, Dickey just seems to be a very intelligent, kind, genuine guy who has really got a hold of his pitch. And his story is even more impressive than just to what I’ve alluded to here. Last year he climbed Mount Kilimanjaro even though he knew it would put his 2012 season salary ($4,250,000) in jeopardy. He also put out an autobiography in March entitled: Wherever I Wind Up: My Quest for Truth, Authenticity and the Perfect Knuckleball. In it he talks about dealing with sexual abuse as a child, suicidal thoughts as an adult, and a lot more. Although I haven’t read it, it is next on my reading list and should be tackled later next month when my scholastic demands have been met. From the reviews I’ve read, apparently Dickey can write just as well as he can pitch. And I think I’ve already established that he might just be one of the best pitchers in the game. So then, wow, yeah, this book must be pretty damn good. The first (more than 100-page) book I ever read was Willie Mays’ autobiography. I’ve also read and enjoyed “The Mick” (on Mickey Mantle) and Joe Dimaggio’s biography. If you’ve read it, leave a comment and let me know what you thought of it or if it has any relevance to this blog post. If you disagree with my assertion that Dickey is one of the best pitchers in baseball or is currently Cy Young worthy, then drop a comment. In the meantime, I’ll be at a Met’s game with my friends (preferably one where Dickey is pitching) wearing my customized orange R.A. Dickey shirt I got two years ago and holding a sign that says “We <3 Dickey”.

Until then…

- Scobar

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An Open Letter to Sisqo

This is a little random, but I figured I should put this up here. For the past several weeks I’ve been trying (quite unsuccessfully) to get into contact with 90′s R&B sensation ‘Sisqo’. I’ve tried his site, his myspace, twitter, everything. He won’t get back to me and I can’t find any number to call or any (working) e-mail to write to.

You may wonder why I am trying so desperate to come into contact with Sisqo. Well, the answer is this. One of my best friends is getting married in a year or so, and he delegated unto me the responsibility of arranging the entertainment for the night. The original plan was just to go to Atlantic City for a night and hit up the casino, a few bars, and a strip club. Then, one day while in his car, Sisqo’s “The Thong Song” started playing and as a joke he said “What if you got Sisqo to come to our bachelor party?” It’d be amazing, hilarious, epic, and incredibly fun. All of our other friends in the car agreed. This then spawned a long debate on how easy/hard it would get him to come or perform and how cheap/expensive it might be.

I wrote this letter out hoping to send it to him, yet, since I have nowhere to send it, I might as well put it up on here. Who knows hopefully he may find it one day bored while googling his name, or perhaps you may know Sisqo personally and you can direct him to this letter. Who knows. Anyway, here is the letter in its entirety:

Dearest Sisqo,

Hello. You don’t know me, but I know you. Not in a creepy stalker way, but in the “OMG! I’m a huge fan of your work!!” sort of way. I’ve been a fan of your music since Unleash the Dragon and I’ve been a fan of your dramatic talents since Snow Dogs, both being two of the greatest and most under-appreciated works of genius in their own respective mediums. Unleash the Dragon was a flawless masterpiece, held aloft by the hilarious epic “The Thong Song.” Although, it may be the case with some other musicians who put out terrific debut albums, your follow-up, Return of Dragon was almost equally as brilliant. As an actor, you have been sorely under-appreciated. One can only draw comparisons to a young Denzel Washington or perhaps a black Charles Bronson. To say I am a fan, would be a grave and unforgivable understatement. However, my fandom is nothing compared to that of my friend’s. My friend Mitch practically worships you. You are a God to him. In fact, you are more than a God to him. In the eyes of Mitch, when God is going through a rough time, God prays to Sisqo.

This brings me to why I’m writing you. Mitch is getting married on May 26, 2013. He has decided to put me in charge of Bachelor Party duties, which I assume, will be taking place sometime early in May of the same year. I haven’t yet decided what to do. I’m guessing it will involve strippers, a strip club, alcohol, a limo, and some other bachelor party essentials. All of this would surely make for a fun and eventful night for Mitch, but there is also a way to make it perfect. To perhaps even make it the greatest day of Mitch’s life. That would be, if you came and joined us for the bachelor party. It’d be awesome if you could perform as well (even if it’s just ‘The Thong Song’ and even if it’s just acoustic and even if you just perform it once.) We don’t have a lot of money, but we can guarantee you a fun time. We are all guys in our early 20s who like to drink and know how to party. I’m not saying you won’t be paid, but I am saying any high four-figure number probably isn’t feasible. However, we would gladly provide you with free food, alcohol (medium-shelf), and lap dances all night (and perhaps even travel expenses as well). Please write me back so we can discuss figures.

Sincerely,

Scobarr

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Is Derek Jeter the greatest offensive Shortstop of All-Time?

Hey, so I’m Scobarr. I’m a little new to this. I don’t really know how these things work, so bare with me here.

This is my first blog post ever, but it is more or less a direct response to a friend. We were arguing last week over who was the greatest Yankee of the 1995 to Present era, or as he put it, “dynasty”. At first he said Bernie Williams, then, he immediately revoked his response and decided to go with Derek Jeter.  I argued in favor of Mariano. After about 15 minutes of this, he changed his mind, and agreed that Mariano was the greatest Yankee of the past 20 years. He did, however, put an amendment on his concession saying that, although Rivera was the more dominant Yankee, Derek Jeter was still the best Shortstop of all time.

This is quite a lofty claim, and one I take tremendous offense to. I hate Derek Jeter. I loathe him. I detest him. I’m a die-hard Met fan and Yankee-hater, so of course, I hate the face of their franchise with a burning passion. To say something like this, he knew he better be right, or I’d give him hell. I have always thought that Derek Jeter is extremely overrated, that most of his fame comes outside statistics and raw natural talent, and I don’t think he is anywhere close to being considered one of the best Shortstops of all time, but I also could be wrong. So, I must remain objective, and look purely at raw statistics.

After saying that Jeter was the best shortstop of all time, I let out a very loud and obnoxious gasp, he countered with “Oh yeah, well, who’s better.” Half-jokingly I said “Rey Ordonez.” This made him pause, laugh, and once again change his original assertion. He responded, “Correction, Derek Jeter is the best offensive shortstop of all time.” This actually makes my point easier to prove. While it does take out defensive talents, it also takes out the “intangibles” that so many people like to attribute to Jeter. And thankfully there is no offensive category for “being a bi-racial angel”, but like I said, I could be wrong here. That’s what I’m trying to get at with this post. How good is Jeter compared to the all-time great Shortstops?

Derek Jeter’s stats as of 6/1/2012:
10,083 AB, 3,161 Hits, 1,798 Runs, 245 HR, 1,215 RBIs, 343 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

And, for the sake of argument, let’s spread that out over a full/average season (550 AB).

So then an average season for Jeter would look like this:

550 AB, 172 H, 98 R, 13 HR, 66 RBI, 19 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

Yeah, make no mistake about it, Jeter is clearly a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer and a great ball-player. But best offensive shortstop of all time? I think we’ll still need a little bit more research here. I’ll be honest. When I first started doing my research, I was surprised. Jeter matches up a lot better against the all-time greats then I thought. There are only two SS with more hits than Jeter; Cal Ripken Jr. and Honus Wagner. He’s also (surprisingly) 6th all-time among shortstops in HR, 18th in SB, 8th in RBI, and 1st in Runs scored. Let’s see how  he compares to some of the all-time greats and current category leaders compare.

Barry Larkin
All-Time: 7937 AB, 1329 R, 2340 H, 198 HR, 960 RBI, 379 SB, .295 AVG, .371 OBP, .444 SLG

Cal Ripken Jr.
All-Time: 11551 AB, 1647 R, 3184 H, 431 HR, 1695 RBI, 36 SB, .276 AVG, .340 OBP, .447 SLG

Robin Yount
All-Time: 11008 AB, 1632 R, 3142 H, 251 HR, 1406 RBI, 271 SB, .285 AVG, .342. OBP, .430 SLG

Miguel Tejada
All-Time: 8278 AB, 1215 R, 2362 H, 304 HR, 1282 RBI, 84 SB, .285 AVG, .336 OBP, .457 SLG

As far as all-time totals go, Jeter is right up there with the best. Larkin only beats Jeter in SB and only by 64. Yount gets beat in every category except HR (+6) and RBIs (+191). Tejada beats Jeter in HR (+59), RBI (+67), and SLG (+.008), but gets destroyed in everything else. Ripken has Jeter beat in Hits by 23, HR by 186, and RBIs by 380. By the end of the season Jeter will easily surpass Ripken in hits, and by the end of his career, Jeter will probably surpass him in RBIs. The rest of Jeter’s category’s surely make up for the deficit in HRs (+151R, +307 SB, +.037 AVG, +.043 OBP, and +.002 .SLG). Although, admittedly, Ripken makes the best case for being a better offensive shortstop, I still think Jeter is better. Okay, so then, let’s see if we can find a more worthy adversary?

Arky Vaughan (1932-1948),

All-Time: 6622 AB, 1175 R, 2103 H, 96 HR, 926 RBI, 118 SB, .318 AVG, .406 OBP, .453 SLG

Although he played in a much different era (1932-1948), he also put up some crazy stats. Still, as far as all-time stats go, Jeter wrecks him. But then again Jeter does have about 3,500 ABs on Arky. So let’s see how they match up if we go off of an average season for both (rounding up at .5 for each category).

Average season for Jeter:  550 AB, 98 R, 172 H, 13 HR, 66 RBI, 19 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG
Average season for Arky: 550 AB, 98 R, 175 H, 8 HR, 77 RBIs, 10 SB, . 318 AVG, .406 OBP, .453 SLG

Runs scored is a wash (I think Jeter would have won by a fraction of a point if I didn’t round up), Jeter will have 5 more HR and 9 more steals than Arky. While Arky will get 3 more hits than Jeter, score 11 more RBIs, beat Jeter in AVG by .005, OBP by .023, and SLG by .004. So this contest is pretty much a wash. Jeter takes two very important categories in HR and SB, but Arky takes him in RBIs, AVG, and, by a wide margin, OBP. I’d give the slight edge to Arky on this one. Next up is another SS who, I think would have creamed Jeter, if they had played as many games as Jeter: Nomar Garciaparra.

Nomar All-Time: 5586 ABs, 927 R, 1747 H, 229 HR, 936 RBI, 95 SB, .313 AVG, .361 OBP, .521 SLG

Average season for Nomar: 550 AB, 91 R, 172 H, 23 HR, 92 RBI, 9 SB, .313 AVG, .361 OBP, .521 SLG
Average season for Jeter:  550 AB, 98 R, 172 H, 13 HR, 66 RBI, 19 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

So in an average season they would record the same amount of hits, while Jeter would get 7 more Runs, 10 more SB, and +.022 OBP, and Nomar would get 10 more HR, 26 more RBIs, and .072 in SLG. This seems like pretty much of a wash. It would have been amazing to see what Nomar could have done had he stayed healthy. His first full season he had 30 HR, 22 SB, and hit .306 AVG. The next season he had 35 HR and hit .323. The season after that he had 27 and batted .357. In his prime, Nomar was one of the best. As far SS to SS comparison based on Average seasons, this one is pretty much a wash. It depends on if you’d prefer a SS with a better OBP who can get you steals, or one with some power who can get you some RBIs. Nomar gets +10 in HR, but Jeter gets +10 in SB. Jeter gets +7 in Runs, but Nomar gets +26 in RBI. It’s tough, but I’d give the edge to Nomar. Admittedly, however, I am biased.

Next brings us to the person I think is the actual #1 SS of all-time: Honus Wagner (you know, the guy from the baseball card).

Honus Wagner (1897-1917)

HW All-time: 10430 AB, 1736 R, 3415 H, 101 HR, 1732 RBI, 722 SB, .327 AVG, .391 OBP, .466 SLG
DJ All-Time: 10083 AB, 1798 Runs, 3161 Hits, 245 HR, 1215 RBIs, 343 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

So, Jeter takes Honus in runs by 62 and HR by 144. But that is it. Those are the only two stats he takes. Honus beats Jeter in hits (254), RBI (517), SB (379), AVG (.014), OBP (.008), and SLG (.017). Honus does have 347 At-Bats on Jeter, so let’s take a look at a sample season and see what happens.

HW Average: 550 AB, 92 R, 180 H, 5 HR, 91 RBI, 38 SB, .327 AVG, .391 OBP, .466 SLG
DJ Average:  550 AB, 98 R, 172 H, 13 HR, 66 RBI, 19 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

So in an average season Jeter would record about 6 more runs and get 8 more HR. Honus would get 8 more Hits, 25 more RBIs, 19 more SBs, and beat out Jeter by .014 in AVG, .008 in OBP, and .017 in SLG. Again, it’s a close call, but I’d have to go with Honus. The 6 runs Jeter would produce is negligible compared to the 25 RBIs Honus would produce. 38 SB is highly valuable, especially for someone with a near .400 OBP. But again, in Jeter’s defense, Honus hasn’t played since 1917.

So while I do think that Nomar and Vaughan are better offensive shortstops, it’s not Jeter’s fault they haven’t played as many games as he had. So, the only guy who is obviously statistically better than Jeter is Honus Wagner, a guy who retired from baseball in 1917? So, I guess, one could legitimately say that, Jeter is the best offensive shortstop since 1917. Wow! Oh my God! Ouch. It really hurt me to write that. But then again, the numbers, just simply, do not lie. Jeter really is one of the best offensive shortstops to have ever played the game. The best? I personally, don’t think so. But there is a very compelling argument to be made that he is. And even if he isn’t the top offensive SS of all-time, he is definitely in the top-5 and probably in the top-3.

Though, there is a reason for this. Prior to the birth of A-Rod, Nomar, Tejada, and Jeter, Shortstops have been known as small scrappy guys who played great defense. You could tolerate their meager 5HR a year and their .250AVG, because their glove made up for it. Then, all of a sudden you had SSs hitting .300+ and having 30HR seasons. This trend has continued more or less. Look at some of the new younger Shortstops entering the fold; Hanley Ramirez (currently playing 3B), Jose Reyes, and Troy Tulowitzki. At the time of this article Jeter is only 23 days away from turning 38. He has been tearing it up this season, so who knows how many more he has left in the tank. Perhaps 2 more, maybe 4. Yet, guys like Hanley (28), Reyes (28), and Tulowitzki (27) are putting up comparable numbers and could end up giving Jeter a run for his money. Let’s take a look.

Hanley Ramirez Average:  550 AB, 101 R, 167 H, 22 HR, 73 RBI, 35 SB, .304 AVG, .377 OBP, .506 SLG
Jeter Average:  550 AB, 98 R, 172 H, 13 HR, 66 RBI, 19 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

Troy Tulowitzki Average: 550 AB, 92 R, 161 H, 25 HR, 92 RBI, 10 SB, .292 AVG, .364 OBP, .504 SLG
Jeter Average:  550 AB, 98 R, 172 H, 13 HR, 66 RBI, 19 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

Jose Reyes Average: 550 AB, 90 R, 160 H, 10 HR, 51 RBI, 45 SB, .291 AVG, .341 OBP, .437 SLG
Jeter Average:  550 AB, 98 R, 172 H, 13 HR, 66 RBI, 19 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

So even if Jeter is one of the top 3 best offensive shortstops of all-time, who knows how long he’ll be there.

Oh yeah, one more thing. Imagine if A-Rod had never moved over to third base. These are his numbers in comparison to Jeter:

A-Rod All-Time: 9388 AB, 1851 Runs, 2828 Hits, 637 HR, 1914 RBIs, 311 SB, .301 AVG, .386 OBP, .564 SLG
Jeter All-Time: 10083 AB, 1798 Runs, 3161 Hits, 245 HR, 1215 RBIs, 343 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

A-Rod Average: 550 AB, 108 R, 166 H, 37 HR, 112 RBI, 18 SB, .301 AVG, .386 OBP, .564 SLG
Jeter Average: 550 AB, 98 R, 172 H, 13 HR, 66 RBI, 19 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

I think it’s fairly obvious who’d win that battle. Lucky break for Jeter, I guess. One could also throw in Ernie Banks, who split time as Shortstop and 1B in there.

Ernie Banks All-Time: 9421 AB, 1305 R, 2583 H, 512 HR, 1636 RBI, 50 SB, .274 AVG, .330 OBP, .500 SLG
Jeter All-Time: 10083 AB, 1798 Runs, 3161 Hits, 245 HR, 1215 RBIs, 343 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

Ernie Banks Average: 550 AB, 76 R, 150 H, 30 HR, 96 RBI, 3 SB, .274 AVG, .330 OBP, .500 SLG
Jeter Average: 550 AB, 98 R, 172 H, 13 HR, 66 RBI, 19 SB, .313 AVG, .383 OBP, .449 SLG

Conclusion: So yeah, is Jeter the best offensive shortstop of all-time? Well, it depends. If you go off of the value of each At Bat, guys like Arky and Nomar are (arguably) better. If you go off of all-time stats, only one is definitively better; Honus Wagner. Jeter is (in my opinion) the second best offensive Shortstop to ever play the game and the best since the 1920s, but that is only because Ernie Banks and Alex Rodriquez spent the majority of their time at other positions. If they had Jeter might be the 4th best of all-time. Had Nomar and Arky played as many games as Jeter, he’d probably be 6th best. If Hanley goes back to SS, keeps up his current average stats, and plays as many games as Jeter, then at the end of his career Jeter would probably only be the 7th best of all time. However, this is only speaking hypothetically, and I am, obviously, not giving Jeter enough due credit here. Is Jeter the best offensive shortstop of all time? No. That would be Honus Wagner. But Jeter is damned close. I would say, the second best (and a very close second best) offensive Shortstop of all-time. And in all likelihood, it’ll likely stay that way for the next 10-20 years.

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