As Jazz Chisholm lay writhing in the dirt, victim to a foul that clipped him square in the balls, pearl-clutching YES announcers Ryan Ruocco and Paul O'Neill simply refused to say what happened.
Remember the old rules about swearing on TV? They're gone. We now occupy a world where politicians say "fuck," and nobody bats an eye. Good grief, yesterday, the President nicknamed U.S. Sen. Jon Ossoff from Georgia - Os-jerkoff. Are you worried about the loss of decorum? Listen: That ship has sailed. Yet the two Yankee announcers danced around Chisholm's situation like ballerinas, taking for a solid five minutes without ever saying aloud what happened.
Moreover, when Chisholm left the game, still in agony, both announcers acted surprised, denying verbal comfort to a fellow human being, one who was clearly suffering a pain that links modern man to prehistoric Neanderthals, and which - now and a million years ago - cuts to the heart of the male experience.
They could not bring themselves to speak any of these words...
Balls
Testicles
Gonads
Cojones
Nuts
Bollocks
Genitals
Ballsacs
Ta-tas
Nads
Crown Jewels
Giggleberries
California Raisins
Weather Balloons
Seed bags
Cosmic Cubes
Queenmakers
Happy Chandeliers
The Straits of Hormuz
Free speech? What's that? Instead, they talked about talking about what they couldn't talk about - what Ruocco later called a "region" they could not discuss. And remember: This is cable TV, where even white bread Anderson Cooper has been known to swear. Of course, they showed video replays of Chisholm being neutered. They showed Boone, smiling through a grimace. They showed teammates laughing. They showed Chisholm's face, a mask of bottomless anguish. The poor guy took one square on the oysters. Today, those ping pong balls must be as flat as beer coasters. I'm feeling it, just writing the words.
Let's hope Chisholm doesn't sing falsetto for the rest of 2026. And come on, YES: How about joining the modern world! If a ball mashes some poor soul's testicles, for God's sake, say what happened.
And by the way, bringing Doval into any close game is like kicking yourself in the nuts. I didn't think that was possible. But what do I know? Excuse me, just thinking about it, I gotta ice down my "region."
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Dandy Danglers
Mummy Daddy Buttons
Smelly Smeggy Sperm Sacs
Self-doodle bulbs
Baby Makers
Jellybeans
Gobstoppers
Hopefully, Chisholm was wearing a jockstrap with the protective cup. I know I wouldn't play baseball without that. I heard Charlie Hayes used to play without one. When people asked him why, he'd say he's already got enough kids.
We lost. Boone. Doval.
Nuts.
Nuts weeks
You know, in the old days, in Italy, they used to castrate young boys with beautiful high voices so they could become "castrati". These were opera singers with the power of a tenor but the range of a soprano. They were castrated before they started adolescence. This was to prevent hormonal changes from the effects of testosterone from making their voices deeper. (Testosterone not only makes facial hair and gives you muscles, it also makes the voice deeper. I think it makes the vocal cords thicker.)
Anyway, I once read an excerpt on the internet about how they did these castrations. And it's not how you'd expect. The parents of a talented boy singer would send him away to a special school to become the next great singer. There, they'd bring a tub of hot water (I think it was hot water), strip the unsuspecting boy naked, put him into the tub butt first. Then a bunch of strong men would forcibly hold the boy down whilst squeezing his nut sack with all their might and main. (You can imagine the severe pain from this torture.) After a bunch of these "treatments" over a course of many weeks, the boy's testicles would eventually be destroyed, and he would be a "castrati". (I don't know if this was the true method to producing a castrati, but it sounds reasonably real. Although I'm not sure how the boy still had a voice left after all the screaming he must've done. This was the time before they had anything like laughing gas to deaden the pain.)
Moral of the story: if you're a young boy with no facial hair, do not sing well in the church choir. Instead, do your best imitation of "Alfalfa" in the Little Rascals. Okay, that might be a little bit of an exaggeration, because they've stopped this barbaric practice. I don't think we've had a castrati in the opera since maybe the 1800's. Hope that story doesn't have you clutching your pearls, hahahahahaha!
"...bringing Doval into any close game is like kicking yourself in the nuts. I didn't think that was possible..."
I don't think it's necessary to kick oneself in his nuts. Sir Isaac Newton invented gravity for that! For any brave male soul, I suggest straddling a fence (use a fence with a wide top ledge, not those pointed spikes, or you'll disembowel yourself). Then whilst standing on top o' the fence, let one of your feet slip, so that your body slams down ball first on the fence top. Straight of the movie "Jackass", eh?
Alternatively, every gymnast (and every Benny Hill fan) knows about the pommel horse and the straddle mount fail. (Sound of crushing nuts!)
Or werks - little sleep today 🤣🤣🤣😳
All kidding aside, any experienced physician will you that getting your balls crushed is extremely deleterious to your health. If your balls are totally crushed, they may have to amputate them. (So you don't have an empty nut sack, they can put a pair of fake balls inside. But you'll have to take supplemental testosterone for the rest of your life.) Even if they aren't crushed, and they heal from the blunt force trauma, these kinds of collisions are a known risk factor for testicular cancer. In other words, baseballs hitting your balls can eventually cause testicular cancer. So all you little urchins out there in Little League, if you're a male urchin that is, always wear your jockstrap with the protective cup.
And that concludes our lesson today on the dangers of getting struck in the testicles. This message has been brought to you by Trojan Condoms. (All sing in a deep baritone voice: TROJAN MAN!!!)
Thank God, we here of the Knights of the Keyboard are not restrained in any way by the dignified white robed Innocenti of the virgin American media. We will say testicles, balls, nuts or any damned thing we please. (If you please!)
Courtesy of Judas Priest ("Running Wild", lyrics from duckduckgo):
Dead or alive there's nothing
That bothers me at all
I take on all comers
They back off or they fall
They raise their hands to stop me
I laugh and I defy
'Cause what's the point in living
Unless you're living wild
No chains can hold me down
I always break away
I never hear society
Tell me what to do or say
Here's a dandy from the movie "Kingdom of Heaven":
Baron of Iberlin: (Throws a sword down next to a sleeping Jazz Chisholm, Jr.) Come on, pick it up.
Hospitaler Knight: His balls are hurt, sir. He hit himself in the balls with a foul ball whilst playing the game of baseball.
Baron of Iberlin: I once fought for two days with an arrow through my right testicle.
Hospitaler Knight: (Rolls his eyes...)
Baron of Iberlin: Come on, pick it up. Defend yourself.
Same old shit from the too often "no show" Yankees offense.
For all you bladed arts practitioners out there, the #7 cut (known as the cruelest cut of all), is the one that comes up between the legs. It can cut the femoral artery that runs down the inner thigh, but it can also cut the baby makers off. Jim Bowie had a nice trick: according to legend, he liked to fight with the blade edge of his knife up. This allows for a very strong parry, whilst enabling a very quick & easy #7 cut. Word of advice: do not engage Jim Bowie in a knife fight, if you'd like to die with your baby makers still attached to you.
Family Jewels
Hey, here's another from one of my personal faves, "Kingdom of Heaven":
Guy de Lusignan: (noticing the Baron of Iberlin lying sick in his tent and seeing Balian, the Baron's son out of wedlock) Would that I had fought you when you were still capable of making bastards!
Baron of Iberlin: I knew your mother when she was making hers, but you're too old to be one of mine.
From today's Clutch Points concerning Doval:
"It was the first earned run the right-hander gave up since June 2, but it speaks to a larger issue that cannot be ignored.
Not only does Doval struggle mightily against left-handed hitters, but he's as bad as it gets when there's something — anything — at stake. In medium-leverage situations, the opposition is hitting .364/.400/.636 against him. In high-leverage situations, those numbers jump to .379/.387/.690. He's excellent in low leverage. Keep him there."
I think John Kruk, who played for the Phillies, injured a testicle on a bad pickoff throw from "The Wild Thing" Mitch Williams. Kruk was wearing a protective cup, but the throw broke the cup. Kruk later developed testicular cancer and had to get a testicle removed. At least he only lost one testicle. Moral of the story: even if you wear a protective cup, you can still lose one or both testicles. So know what you're signing up for, and be quick to protect your nads. John Sterling always used to say he'd wear a suit of armor if he played baseball.
Fucking Ba-Boone. Not sure why Doval in that situation there. Shoulda just kept Hill in there. The search for the most ineffective reliever certainly was a most resounding success last night!
That was a loss even before the first pitch. All the signs pointed to disaster: the two blowout wins in the first two games; the last game of a series which the Yankees had dominated; Ryan Weathers on the mound (he gets zero run support); the opener on the mound for the other team. Even during the game: the bad base running, the lack of clutch hitting, or any hitting. 'Twas just a matter of time before they'd get exposed.
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