I saw this nostalgic look back at Adam Dunn and Austin Kearns on Redleg Nation today.

The duo was going to, if you believed Jim Bowden’s hype, form one of the greatest outfields of all time.

And it was easy to believe in him. Dunn was a tall, incredibly strong young man when he arrived in 2001, with no foreshadow of the flabby oaf he would one day become. Kearns would be his counterpart, a coveted five-tool player. (Six-tool, if you counted his ability to make up for Dunn’s ineptitude in left field.)

Of course, that didn’t happen. Instead we were left with losing years and futile hopes. And a lingering hatred of Ray King’s fat ass.

Oh, and one of my favorite fake news stories that RHM ever wrote: Dude, Where’s My Bat.

There are times I get tired of reading about, writing about, and thinking about the Reds sucking, so today I’m reading about, writing about, and thinking about a former Red sucking. I knew that Adam Dunn wasn’t having a good year, but I didn’t realize the epicness of his fail until I noticed a story about it today on the brain candy “news” stories that Yahoo! presents to me every morning when I start up Messenger.

He is in the first year of a four-year, $56 million contract with the Chicago White Sox, who signed him as a free agent to bat fourth as designated hitter, and if the season ended today he’d own the worst average in the live-ball era by more than 20 points.

But it’s not just the batting average. We’re halfway through the season, and Dunner is rocking a big fat 49 bases on balls and 9 whole home runs. Adam Dunn–Mr. OPS–has an OPS of .588. Ouch.

So what the hell’s wrong with him? Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? He doesn’t seem to be hurt, he’s certainly isn’t over the hill, and no one has, that I know of, removed his massage chair from the clubhouse and stashed it in the apparently unused team chapel. It’s bad enough, though, that the word “quit” is entering his commentary:

“If I’m not having fun anymore, I’ll go home,” Dunn told Yahoo! Sports. “Flat out. I’ll go home. I mean that. Swear to goodness. I’ll. Go. Home. I enjoy playing. Even though I suck. Or have been sucking. I enjoy playing the game. Love it. But as soon as I lose that, I’m gone, dude. It’s true.

“How many games can you play doing this? This is ridiculous. You get to a point, and you’re like …”

You get to a point, and you’re like… Yeah, man, I hear what you’re saying.

It’s been an all-too-common sight at Great American Ball Park: a young stud pitcher taking the mound, awesome in his own rite but forced to waste away on a terrible team. But for a change, we’re not talking about a Red.

Tickets are going fast for Wednesday’s game when Stephen Strasburg leads the Washington Nationals against Bronson Arroyo and the Reds. I clicked the Buy Tickets link and the “Best Available” option that was presented to me was section 303. Gets yours now if you want to make it to this game.

I only left the All-You-Can-Eat Seats ad in the screen grab because I can’t believe they’re still using that graphic. That must be the least appetizing picture of food ever put together by a Photoshop-challenged intern.

Finally, because the Nationals are in town, my mind turns immediately to Adam Dunn and wondering whether a guy that big has really still managed to remain invisible to the media, teams, and fans. On a tip from a guy at work, here’s his line compared to “All-Star” first baseman Ryan Howard:

Just sayin’.

How does one become a baseball wife?

I imagine some women must stumble into it, entirely by chance, meeting their future hubby at a bar or night club or some other gathering place where they could have met anyone, in any profession. Others, I imagine, are AAA groupies, purposely positioning themselves for the life. Either way, I doubt the young bride is entirely prepared for the obstacles that she will face in her married life.

Including being required to name your son “Brady,” if the life stories of Rachel Dunn and Abby Kearns are any indication. Yesterday, the Washington Post printed a story that went into some depth on their experiences, as well as those of some of the other Nationals players’ wives.

Check it out. The story’s a bit wordy, but how can you encapsulate the personal lives of so many people in less? Besides, this is all the words these ladies are likely to get all season. Hopefully it distracts them from the Nats’ performance for a minute.

Adam Dunn signed with the Nationals this week, fulfilling Jim Bowden’s ages-old dream of rebuilding the killer outfield he’d engineered back in Cincinnati in 2004-2005, minus one pesky injury-prone kid.
That’s right, at some point next season, you can expect to see Adam Dunn, Wily Mo Peña, and Austin Kearns all patrolling the Nationals’ outfield grass.

Reds fans nostalgic for the greener, non-Dusty Baker days of 4 to 5 years will have to wait until the middle of August for Washington to visit Cincinnati. I have a feeling that neither team will be in contention by then.