Season 13 Preview: Louisville Brown Bears

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Goldilocks scampered through the forest, weary and bored, eager to encounter some new woodland friends. Bears had provided her with such joy in the past, and oh how she loved their tasty porridge (when the hairy beasts didn't prepare it scalding hot or freezing cold)! However, she took a wrong turn and became hopelessly lost. It seems she had accidentally dropped her compass earlier in the day while being chased by some angry wolverines whose den she had squatted in. Wolverines, much like Jacksonville gm frankum, were such assholes when angered!

Wandering along the shoulder of northbound I-65, she skipped and pranced along, singing a happy little song, "TRA LA LA LA!" as drunken hillbillies passed by in pickup trucks, shouting obscenities and pelting her with empty whisky bottles. Finally she happened upon a large domed edifice large enough to house several hundred bear dens! A large sign hung over the entryway. "Snzorg, slinkum doojabbizam," she mouthed as she eyed the sign for Louisville Slugger Stadium. She, like most Kentuckians, was illiterate. But she did see a drawing of a large brown bear wearing a baseball cap and knew that she must investigate.

Furtively darting under the turnstile, she eluded a geriatric security guard and made her way into the heart of the stadium, pilfering a king-sized corn dog and Cherry Coke along the way.

Then she saw the most wondrous sight! Facing a 3-2 count with two on, Brown Bears first baseman Marvin Goldstein reared back and whacked the payoff pitch deep into the centerfield stands to send Louisville ahead by one. She was impressed with Goldstein's power, and would be moreso had she known that the previous season he had paced the Brown Bears with 52 homers, outslugging rightfielder Steve Myatt (41), third baseman Pedro Tarraga (23), and outfielders Juan Uribe (23) and Robin Lamb (22). Surely Goldstein was the heart and soul of the Brown Bears offensive attack, Goldi would have thought were she not too busy picking her nose and rifling through the belongings of an elderly baseball fan who had unwisely left her purse unattended.

Goldi was unaware that the Brown Bears attack was just north of average at best and would be discernibly subpar if not for Goldstein's presence. Sure, Myatt, Lamb, and Tarraga provided good support, but offensively inept performances by Jacque Brock at second base and Nick Hudson at shortstop kept Louisville's offense from firing on all eight cylinders. And who would fill the gaping hole in the lineup created by Juan Uribe bolting Kentucky when they inexplicably refused to sign him to a new contract? .325/.405/.550 hitters don't grow on trees, right? Even morally bankrupt, thieving little scamps know that.

"These sure aren't like any bears I've ever seen, they are a peculiar lot!" Goldilocks mused as she indiscriminately hacked loogies on the unsuspecting heads of lower deck patrons.

But actually, she was wrong. These Brown Bears were very much like every squad of Brown Bears that came before them. They were distinctly average. With offensive production slightly above the league mean, pitching output slightly below the league mean, and fielding statistics right at the league average, the pride of Louisville were surely cruising for yet another season of hovering right around .500 ball, a position they had found themselves in for several straight seasons. Bad enough to consistently miss the playoffs, but good enough to draft in a position where the impact players had already been selected, the Brown Bears had stagnated.

Things weren't all doom and gloom on Louisville's mound though. Starters Floyd Charlton and season 12 acquisition Heywood Lloyd (obtained from Montreal at the cost of some nice prospects) were certainly above average. But most of the rest of the staff was comprised of a conglomeration of marginal major leaguers drawing outsized contracts (not individually ridiculous, but collectively cumbersome.)

Goldilocks innately sensed that this team was destined to finish in the middle of the NL East pack and quickly grew bored with this silly game the poseur bears were playing. And when Goldilocks grows bored, bad things happen. She slowly drew her fully loaded, semi-automatic Glock 9 from the cape-obscured holster at her side...

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sordie

Developer

Commissioner of the fakest fake baseball league on the planet: Plumpy Rules!!!!111

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