Welcome to the MLB Star Power Index -- a bi-weekly undertaking that determines with awful authority which players/baseball entities are dominating the current zeitgeist of the sport, at least according to the narrow perceptions of this miserable scribe. While one's presence on this list is often celebratory in nature, it can also be for purposes of lamentation or ridicule. The players/living baseball phenomena listed are in no particular order, just like the phone book. To this edition's honorees/dishonorees ...
Admire, if you will, the following, which is reputed to be a rendering of San Diego Padres cloutsman Juan Soto:
Some will attest that this statuary is a gesture of expressionsim on the part of the sculptor. Monsieur Soto's lines and angles have been bloated and softened beyond recognition, made cruder than the genuine, all as a modernist comment upon the en-masse dehumanization brought about by that which passes for progress. While this is an outwardly defensible exegesis of what you see above, it is also incorrect. That, you see, is a halfling, or hobbit if you prefer, wearing a wee Juan Soto uniform. That is not Juan Soto. That is Bosco Goodcobble -- halfling and holder of a secret.
He lives in a verdant grove, and he naps under the shade of a holly bush. Despite appearances, he is not brandishing a bat but rather the merest of all rapiers, known among halflings as a "luck blade." Fret not – Bosco Goodcobble uses his blade not to perperate a highwayman's larceny but rather to harvest scarlet queen turnips, which he makes into a toothsome, belly-clogging goulash that he shares with all, even the faeries and woodchucks. He has 11 hit points, which he hardly ever needs on account of his peaceable nature. Sometimes he plays a short-necked lute of spruce, the most resonant of softwoods. The tuning pegs are carved dragon heads – not that he's ever ventured out of the valley far enough to see a dragon. Rather, he carved them based on the quill-and-ink drawings found in the leatherbound books of his bed chamber. When he plays and sings, the hillsides resound with his gentle tenor.
In conversation, Bosco Goodcobble, the halfing in the wee Juan Soto uniform, will greet you with a "well met" and hew toward trifling pleasantries. At other times, though, he whispers the secret location of the Golden Thumb, that enchanted relic most desired by every knight-errant. Almost all, however, hear nothing. Only those who listen closely and are pure of heart except on the weekends can hear Bosco Goodcobble's Whisper of the Golden Thumb and learn under which old-growth broadleaf tree the Golden Thumb is buried. Absent such knowledge, no one could ever find it. For the forest is both boundless and without bound.
While the Philadelphia Phillies' warrior-poet is most famous for hitting pitched baseballs over outfield fencing, Bryce Harper is also adept at listening closely and being pure of heart except on weekends. How do we know this? Peel back thine eyelids:
Hills be shaken: Bryce Harper, thanks to his attentiveness and probity that were both on full display during a recent conversation with Bosco Goodcobble, now possesses the Golden Thumb. Among the plenary benefits conferred upon the holder of the Golden Thumb is immediate mastery of the 10th-level magic user's spellbook, an extra damage roll of the polyhedral die of one's choosing per round of combat, accelerated recovery of hit points lost to elbow surgery, and the skill buffs of a plus-10 first baseman. As well, one is granted full knowledge of living the fullest possible Beardlife, but in Harper's case this would've been a galling redundancy.
Hubris, of course, is the one way a wielder of the Golden Thumb can lose it, but let us not entertain such dark thoughts while the Golden Thumb shimmers before us. Surely Bryce Harper will not become drunken with power as though it were so many lidded steins of braggot mead and thus squander the privileges of the Golden Thumb. Surely.
The American League Central Anagram Standings
In the interest of advancing the word count of this piece and in the general interest of advancing barely trying as a first virtue, the author is continuing a deeply unsolicited six-part SPI sub-series in which he ranks teams in each division based on the anagram that he's bothered to figure for each team's name. For the uninitiated, an anagram is formed when you take the letters of a word or words and form other words with them. So: These are divisional standings – or Rankings of Power – based on team-name anagrams. Why is this being done? We've already covered that.
Last time we happened our way into the AL East version of this, and now it appears it's time for the American League Central Anagram Standings. Forthwith:
A Cadaver's Lined LungTiniest SnowmanA Stinky Soy RascalToxic Hogwash IceTire Rot DigestUnlike the actual AL Central, this is a strong circuit from top to bottom, and truth be told Tire Rot Digest could contend for the flag in another, lesser circuit. The AL Central, though, is a remorseless cauldron when it comes to anagrams as opposed to actual baseball.
In any event, may the Golden Thumb guide your way. It seems to be pointing you over there, far away from whatever this has been.
