Conversations on the Corner: The NL Central

This, our latest endeavor to produce ongoing features stacked with staunch journalism and in-depth sports coverage, is "Conversations on the Corner," where we chat with a few Major League Baseball first basemen about their counterparts in the bigs. We've selected an assortment of glovers from each league, and they've pledged to help us breakdown the other first basemen in various divisions. It promises to be skewed, highly inacccurate, and include and a ton of material over which we'd like to not be accused of libel. So dig in. (Editor's Note: The HoG spared no expense in this project, so, if the inclination arises, don't stifle it. Donations can be sent in the form of multi-packs of Big League Chew, or in American dollars. Click here to inquire about the House of Georges corporate office/mailing headquarters.)

We launched this project two days ago, when we first broke down the National League East. That installment was followed by yesterday's scrutiny of the West, and today, we're inspecting the first basemen of the honorable National League Central. With us today is none other than Kansas City high school "native"/brother of Harry, Albert Pujols. Get a load of this exchange that went down just a few hours east on I-70. (Note: That's today's code for "the jump.")

Bankmeister: Al, how's it goin'? Off to another fine start this season. I mean, aside from the fact that the gayest professional baseball team in Missouri has squeaked out 11 wins already, you've got three long balls, a .367 batting average, and a .653 slugging percentage. Congratulations on such a phenomenal start.
Albert Pujols: There's another gay professional baseball team in Missouri?
B: Negative, Al.
AP: What about the K--
B: And, hey -- only four strikeouts, and an even .500 on-base percentage. Kudos, my little friend.
AP: (offers a semi-grin and flexes) I'll show you little, Banky.
B: I'm sure you will, Al. I'm sure you will. So, today, we're going to discuss your National League Central counterparts. And by that I mean the other guys in the division that also play first base.
AP: I got it. I might be from the projects, but I know what counterparts means.
B: (tilts shades down slightly) I thought you were from La Republica Dominicana, bro.
AP: I am. It's like Beverly Hills there compared to the projects known as the city of St. Louis, you know? (slaps Bankmeister on the back)
B: (coughs, inspects middle left rib cage for fractures, then shares chuckle with Pujols after "getting it.") Nice one. So the House of Georges spent some time with Derek Lee the other day. He seems to be a stand-up guy.
AP: Yeah, D-Lee's aces with me, Banky. We play each other lots, so you know, we kick it after the games with some viscious rounds of Bacci Ball and Hawaiian Punch.
(longish awkward silence ensues)
B: Come again? You play Bacci Ball and drink Hawaiian Punch with Derek Lee? Is that like, code for "Don't Spill the Dead Hooker Blood on Your Massive, HGH-Saturated Huevos?"
AP: Yo, lil' man, that ain't cool. You better not put that in your interview. I'm not down with the juice, bro.
B: I know. I won't. I was only messin' with you. Anyway, how about that Derek Lee? He seems like a pretty serious baller.
AP: Yeah. He's tight. Not his fault though, that I've got more homers than him in a third of the time playing. Not everyone's as gifted as numero cinco.
B: You got that right. George went yard like 317 times. I mean, D-Lee can certainly catch him, but it'll be a close race.
AP: Who's George?
B: Number five, dude.
AP: No.
B: No, what?
AP: (Dominican accent emerges) Alberto es numero cinco. Nadie mas.
B: Okay, Ricky. Settle down.
AP: Who's Ricky? Is that some kind of "I Love Lucy" reference? That's messed up.
B: Forget it. It's all good. Moving on, though. The at-one-time American League club known as the Milwaukee Brewers has a cat by the name of Prince Fielder manning the right side of its infield. What're your thoughts on this kid?
AP: (pounds chest twice, then kisses fist, points to the sky) I love that kid, man. He's awesome. You look at his stats and you're blown away by the massive increases each year. I think he's off to a bit of a slow start this year, but it--
B: I know, I know. It's early (rolls eyes). I can see you're into the kid's, um, talent.
AP: For sure.
B: Then I've got a much more intriguing question for you, Al.
AP: What's that?
B: Well, some say your nickname is Prince Albert (Note: link NSFW, health, or mental well-being).
(AP kisses each bicep, then extends World Series ring to Bankmeister's face)
B: Dude, I'm not going to kiss your ring.
AP: Yeah, eh? Albert can play, too. No?
B: Right. And the Brewers play in Miller Park, right?
AP: Yeah.
B: And it's named for the brewery that made Milwaukee famous.



AP: Yeah, but Anheuser--
B: Whatever. Budweiser products taste like the sewage that doesn't properly drain from the bathrooms at Miller Park, but that's another story. Let's just say, though, that, one night, in the locker room, after a Cards/Brewers game in Milwaukee, countless Hawaiian Punch shooters into the evening, you crammed your non-HGH franks and beans inside the Milwaukee first baseman's poop chute. Would that be a good example of Prince Albert in a can?
AP: No way. Hawaiian Punch is with Derek Lee.
(another ultra-long, awkward silence ensues)
B: Okee-dokie. The Pittsburgh Pirates. Adam LaRoche is their first baseman.
AP: He's pretty good. I don't think he's logged a complete season yet, but that's no big deal. I like their team this year.
B: You are aware of the fact that they suck, right?
AP: Nah, man. They'll be in the mix.
B: You are aware of the fact that Pittsburgh is the home of pedophiles -- I mean pierogies, right?
AP: What's a pierogie?
B: You are aware that you're the most clueless Dominican the HoG has ever interviewed, right?
AP: What's a pedophile?
B: Bingo. Some random guy named Scott Hatteberg plays first base for the suddenly flailing Cincinnati Reds. What's the deal with this team?
AP: Well, they play in Ohio for one thing (begins laughing hysterically).
B: I don't get it.
AP: You ever been to Ohio, dude?
B: Yes. Have you?
AP: Duh!
B: Okay. What about their first baseman?
AP: He's old.
B: I'll give you that.
AP: And he sucks.
B: Count it. Let's wrap this up. I'm meeting an escort.
AP: You're meeting a small, unreliable Ford sedan?
B: Correct. Lance Berkman. Houston Astros.
AP: He's no Craig Biggio.
B: Uh, did Bigg' ever play first base?
AP: I think so.
B: Pretty sure not.
AP: Well, either way, they both swing a good bat.
B: You realize Biggio retired, right?
AP: You know what I mean.
B: Not really. Thoughts on Berkman, though?
AP: I think he's got a good year in store. His numbers look close to mine, so, uh (pulls out small vanity, admires self)...
B: Right. Good times. So, who takes the Central this year, Al?
AP: Red Birds, baby! All the way!
B: Wow. That's clearly the gayest thing you've said, among many, this afternoon. Thanks for your time, Prince. And may your new stadium unexpectedly explode sometime other than June 17-19 of this season.

And that completes our rundown of the National League first basemen. Swing by tomorrow as we dive into the American League, where the players are guaranteed to be just as bizarre, and slightly less off their rockers.

Update: After we went to press on this piece, I was discreetly handed a memo from Old No. 7 indicating that some guy named Joey Votto is emerging as the Reds' first baseman. My response was that a more professional sports blogger would've known that already. What I really wanted to tell him was that I blame Marge Schott. She can rot in hell. (receives another memo from Seven) Oh. Nevermind. Apparently she already is.