Farewell Milton Bradley, we hardly knew ye.  The A’s have designated Milton Bradley for assignment meaning they have ten days to trade him or release him.  Apparently Milton had a few outbursts in the last couple days, but the move had more to do with the glut of outfielders who are more in the A’s long term plans.  Bradley was in his last year of arbitration and was not going to return regardless next year.  Rather than lessen Buck’s playing time, the A’s decided it wasn’t worth the clubhouse problems less playing time for Bradley would most definitely cause.

While Bradley has been on the D.L. five times in the last two years, when he was on the field, he was a presence.  I would even go as far to say that he was the A’s best player with only Swisher giving him a run for his money.  And of course, he was easily the most approachable player at the season ticket gala last year, making him Curveballcity’s favorite player at the time.  We will miss him, but as an A’s fan, I have become almost completely tainted in that I no longer try to identify with the players, but rather with only the team as a whole.  We lose far too many players to grow too attached.  However, if Dan Haren keeps pitching the way he has been, I might not be able to help myself.

Goodbye Bradley, thanks for the memories.  I will cheer for you when you return.

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Question for y’all: we already know how morally repugnant it is for an athlete to take performance enhancers to go from forty homeruns a year to seventy.  Is it somewhat more justifiable for an athlete to take enhancers to get from zero homeruns to, say, three?  How about if said athlete is hitting significantly below the Mendoza line?  And is only weeks away from getting his starting job split between the DH and a Sacramento RiverCat?  Discuss.

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Just a couple of outs away from the A’s taking 3 in a row from the Red Sox, and there’s lots of stuff to talk about:

R.I.P. The Sizzler. It’s not like we’re going to miss Witasick’s relief work all that much, but it’s always sad to see the death of a quality inside joke. Fortunately we have a ready replacement waiting in the wings. ¡Viva el Sizzleo!

Are we witnessing the offensive resurrection of Eric Chavez? Let’s hope so. Chavez is the best gloveman on the team, and probably the best third baseman in baseball, but there’s something about the highest–paid player on the team (ranking him somewhere between 14^th and 15^th on the payroll for the Chicago Cubs) that makes you expect some offensive production out of him. But more importantly, I want to love Eric Chavez. I really do. I want to believe he’s a nascent Hall of Famer. I want to believe that he was a better pick than Miguel Tejada. I want to be thrilled at the prospect of him coming up with men on base and a reachable deficit in the runs column. I’m not there yet, but I want to be.

Just a confirmation for those of you who come to CurveballCity for your late-breaking baseball news (you poor, retarded souls) – the A’s just pulled off a 3-2 victory over the Red Sox, giving them five wins in a row and a 7-2 record on this homestand. Meanwhile, Baseball Tonight just flashed the latest on the Red Sox’ “fiasco in Oakland.” It is difficult to explain in words just how much I hate ESPN. “Fetid pile of burning numbnuts” is a start, but feels strangely inadequate.

Harden to the bullpen? Potential negative repercussions abound, but it seems a lot more productive than rehab starts in Sacramento. Plus, Harden only gets about 10 or 11 innings between violent outbursts by the evil gremlins living in his arm, so we might as well make those innings mean something.

Apparently my sort-of hometown Anaheim Ducks just won the Stanley Cup, likely due to a stellar performance by Pacey and liberal use of the knucklepuck. It almost makes me wish I cared about hockey.

I just picked up WWE’s latest DVD product, the stirringly-named “Ladder Match.” It’s a three-disc set with twenty-something matches on it, so a combination of my newly-discovered adulthood and a recent bootleg DVD buying binge in the third world will prevent me from watching all of it anytime soon, but nothing could stop me from popping in the first disc within hours of its arrival to watch HHH vs. The Rock in a ladder match for the Intercontinental Title from SummerSlam 1998. What with Rock already on his way to becoming Hollywood’s only marketable action star under the age of 45 and the successor to Samuel L Jackson’s Coolest Man Alive (a title previously held by Jack Nicholson and Mr. T), it’s easy to forget just how great of a wrestler he was. In-ring skills aside (not that those were anything to be ashamed of), he was second only to a young Hulk Hogan in his ability to make literally everything he was involved in both meaningful and entertaining. When The Rock wrestled, you cared. I miss him so much.

SportsCenter just ran through the entire recap of tonight’s game with virtually no mention of the words “Oakland,” “Athletics,” or “A’s,” choosing instead to focus on the far more interesting woes of the “ice-cold” Red Sox and their recent “frustrations,” as though Boston had dropped four games in a row to their own deepset personal demons. Wait for tomorrow, when the Red Sox lose again to a team of unidentifiably blurry green blotches.

You’ve no doubt noticed a theme of bittersweet emotional turmoil over the course of this entry, so let’s conclude with more of the same. Specifically, that special brand of searing heartbreak that has accompanied the recent performance of Jason Kendall. I love Jason Kendall. He’s been responsible for some of the most spectacularly memorable moments in recent Oakland history, most notably Francisco Rodriguez’ walk-off drop and that game-ending face-first tag in Texas. He’s nurtured a nearly all-rookie starting staff for the last three seasons and played a big part in making them one of the best pitching staff’s in baseball. But as much as I’ve appreciated his contributions, the simple truth is that he makes an awful lot of money to hit awfully. The thought of Kendall becoming a backup catcher and pinch hitter when Piazza comes back (thereby insuring playing time for Piazza, Johnson and Travis Buck) is tough to accept, but it makes an awful lot of sense.

As much sense as anything can make in a world where Joe Kennedy gives up two runs in seven quality innings against the Red Sox to get the win. Someone hold me. I’m scared.

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