Longfellow’s Curve

I wasn’t going to write a baseball post, until I was.

Blame it on a conversation I had with a Phillies fan recently in which we opined on the literature of a baseball season. He’s got memories that span the first Phillies title team in 1980 to last October. Whereas I got stuck on a November night in 2001 when the Yankees dynasty died in the desert at the hands of two gunslingers and a band of upstarts from Arizona.

My Bombers had been outplayed through the first six games and change and yet they carried a one run lead into the bottom of the ninth inning in Game 7 with the legendary Mariano Rivera taking the hill. Mo was looking to deliver the Yankees a fourth straight trophy and when he dished a spotless eighth frame, it felt as if the prima donna of the baseball heavens had pushed all her chips into a high C.

Rivera was the arbiter of spin to such a degree that I was certain he had signed a surety bond with the moon’s gravitational pull that allowed his arm to turn a five ounce piece of rawhide into his own personal master class; a mashup of physics and poetry in a cool inning’s work. He had presided over four World Series titles with a cutter that was harder to break into than a biometric safe. It was Mariano for us, come hell or high water.

Hell arrived in the bottom of the ninth.

And so, I enlisted some historic numbers (Easter eggs for the discriminating fan) and a whole lot of Gatsby in imagining what the next ten World Series tilts will look like. I know it won’t play out this way because the game never happens the way you think it will.

That’s why I love it so.

The San Diego Padres and New York Yankees do the tango in consecutive seasons, with the Pads winning it all in 2023 as Juan Soto bats .426 in the Series and Blake Snell throws a complete game no-hitter at Petco Park to deliver San Diego its first professional championship. The Yankees return the favor the very next season behind Aaron Judge’s record ten home runs, which doubles the previous high watermark for a World Series. New York races out to a 3-0 series lead before dropping two straight, sending the local sports talk radio shows into a frenzy as they imagine the Bombers blowing another 3-0 lead on the twentieth anniversary of their collapse at the hands of the Boston Red Sox. Yankee legend Derek Jeter proves to be the good luck charm when he throws out the first ball, after which ace Gerrit Cole pitches a shutout and Anthony Volpe hits two homers to seal the deal.

In 2025, Julio Rodriguez of the Mariners slugs three home runs in the World Series clincher as Seattle sweeps the Atlanta Braves. Shohei Ohtani wins the first of what will be three World Series MVP awards. Those afterthoughts from the Pacific Northwest put the baseball world on notice when they come back and do it again the following season with yet another sweep, this time vanquishing Mike Trout and the Philadelphia Phillies. Seattle’s dynasty is short circuited by the Pablo Lopez led New York Mets in 2027 as the Big Apple’s other team wins a classic seven gamer. In 2028, Shohei Ohtani cements his all-timer legacy by winning the Cy Young, regular season and World Series MVP as the Mariners take down the Milwaukee Brewers in six games for their third title in four years.

2029 sees the Milwaukee Brewers defeat the Minnesota Twins in the most unlikely of World Series matchups. The teams make it all the way to the Fall Classic despite their identical 85-77 records. The teams carry the worst combined winning percentage by two pennant winners to have played a full season into October, prompting ESPN to call it “The worst world series ever”. The Pirates take a 3-2 series lead only to be shut down by Sidd Finch in Game 7 at Milwaukee. The forty-two year old knuckleballer started the year in the Mexican League before writing his name into the history books.

In 2030, the Mariners make it back it to the World Series for the fifth time in six seasons. Shohei Ohtani becomes the first pitcher to win World Series MVP for the losing team since Bobby Richardson of the Yankees did the deed in 1960. The Phillies come from two runs down in the bottom of the ninth to win it all on a Bryce Harper three run shot off Jayce Carter- the son of former MLB player Joe Carter.

2031 sees the Baltimore Orioles return to prominence as they win 114 games and then proceed to sweep through October with a pristine 11-0 record. They defeat the Cincinnati Reds in four games, each time by a single run. Reds owner Ken Griffey Jr congratulates his team for a great season and then announces the club will remain in Cincinnati “forever”.

Lastly but not leastly, in 2032 the Montreal Habs-formerly the Tampa Bay Rays- defeat the Albuquerque Roadrunners in six games to bring home the city’s first world title since the Canadiens Stanley Cup win in 1993. In the postgame afterglow, the town is bathed in red and blue as the team takes to the city streets in an impromptu celebratory parade.

The party goes on until dawn.

Baseball Trivia ’22

Baseball season is underway, so Imma asked me to come to the plate with a pinch-hit grand salami with a bit of baseball trivia. It’s a bit long, but hey – have some fun with it!

The answers are below the closing background music, so you may want to write down your answers. If you want some background music, click the music video below. All music is from The Natural.

Part 1: Where?

Multiple Choice (answers used only once, not all answers used): Candlestick Park, Comiskey Park, Fenway Park, Forbes Field, Fulton County Stadium, Griffith Stadium, Polo Grounds, Riverfront Stadium, Tiger Stadium, Yankee Stadium

In what stadium did the event occur?

1-1 Willie Mays over-the-shoulder catch in deep center of a Vic Wertz drive.
1-2 Don Larson’s World Series perfect game.
1-3 Reggie Jackson’s monstrous homerun off the light tower in an All-Star game.
1-4 Mickey Mantles 565-foot homerun.
1-5 Hank Aaron’s homer number 714 tying Babe Ruth.
1-6 Hosted baseball’s first All-Star game.
1-7 Wind blows pitcher Stu Miller off the mound in an All-Star game.

Photo by Tim Gouw on Pexels.com

Part 2: Where? Again

Multiple Choice: (answers used only once, not all answers used): Cincinnati, Cleveland, Detroit, Milwaukee, New York, Minneapolis, Montreal, Philadelphia, Seattle, St. Louis, Toronto

In what city is the old stadium located?

2-1 Baker Bowl
2-2 Briggs Stadium
2-3 County Stadium
2-4 Exhibition Stadium
2-5 Griffith Stadium
2-6 Hilltop Park
2-7 Jarry Park
2-8 League Park
2-9 Sick’s Stadium
2-10 Sportsman’s Park

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Part 3: More Where?

In what stadium would you find the following?

Multiple Choice: (answers used only once, not all answers used): Alameda County Stadium, Astrodome, Crosley Field, Ebbets Field, Fulton County Stadium, LA Coliseum, Municipal Stadium, Polo Grounds, Veteran’s Stadium, Wrigley Field

3-1 Chief Noc-a-homa
3-2 Grounds crew in spacesuits
3-3 Harvey the mechanical rabbit bringing baseballs to the umpire
3-4 Hilda Chester ringing a cowbell
3-5 Moon shots
3-6 The Bull Ring
3-7 Tinker-to-Evers-to-Chance home field
3-8 Visitors bullpen in left-center field (in play)

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Part 4: I Can’t Get Enough Where (Click?)

Identify the city linked to these franchises.

Multiple Choice: (answers used only once, not all answers used): Boston, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Houston, New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Seattle

4-1 Beaneaters
4-2 Colt 45s
4-3 Highlanders
4-4 Redlegs
4-5 Pilots
4-6 Spiders

Photo by Wendy Wei on Pexels.com

Part 5: Miscellaneous

5-1 True/False – Ken Griffey Jr (last played in 2008) is the Reds third highest-paid player in 2023.

5-2 Name the Padre pitcher who served up Pete Rose’s hit to become the all-time leader in hits. (Choices: Andy Hawkins, Dave Dravecky, Eric Show, Goose Gossage, LaMarr Hoyt)

5-3 Name the player who broke up the most no-hitters with a homerun. (Hint: 81 times)

5-4 Name the two cities where former major league stadiums are now college football stadiums.

5-5 He (a Hall of Famer) threw three shutouts in four days.

5-6 Name the pitcher with the most career wins that never won the Cy Young Award.

5-7 Name the four Alou brothers who played in the majors.

ANSWERS
1-1 Polo Grounds (Mays catch)
1-2 Yankee Stadium (Larson’s Series perfect game)
1-3 Tiger Stadium (Reggie’s HR)
1-4 Griffith Stadium (Mantle’s HR)
1-5 Riverfront Stadium (Aaron’s HR)
1-6 Comiskey Park (first All-Star game)
1-7 Candlestick Park (Wind blowing Stu Miller off the mound)

2-1 Baker Bowl (Philadelphia)
2-2 Briggs Stadium (Detroit)
2-3 County Stadium (Milwaukee)
2-4 Exhibition Stadium (Toronto)
2-5 Griffith Stadium (Washinton)
2-6 Hilltop Park (New York)
2-7 Jarry Park (Montreal)
2-8 League Park (Cleveland)
2-9 Sick’s Stadium (Seattle)
2-10 Sportsman’s Park (St. Louis)

3-1 Chief Noc-a-homa – Fulton County Stadium (Atlanta)
3-2 Grounds crew in spacesuits – Astrodome (Houston)
3-3 Harvey the mechanical rabbit bringing baseballs to the umpire (Municipal Stadium – Kansas City) Hello – Charlie Finley anyone?
3-4 Hilda Chester ringing a cowbell – Ebbets Field (Brooklyn)
3-5 Moon shots (Wally Moon HRs at the LA Coliseum)
3-6 The Bull Ring – Veteran’s Stadium (Philadelphia)
3-7 Tinker-to-Evers-to-Chance home field – Wrigley Field (Chicago)
3-8 Visitors bullpen in left-center field – Polo Grounds (New York)

4-1 Boston Beaneaters
4-2 Houston Colt 45s
4-3 New York Highlanders
4-4 Cincinnati Redlegs
4-5 Seattle Pilots
4-6 Cleveland Spiders

5-1 TRUE – Junor Griffey is the Reds’ third highest-paid player in 2023 Click?
5-2 Eric Show served up Pete Rose’s hit
5-3 Rickey Henderson broke up the most no-hitters with 81 leadoff HRs
5-4 Two baseball now used for college football: LA Coliseum (Dodgers & USC) & Boston’s Brave’s Field is now BU’s Nickerson Field
5-5 Walter “The Big Train” Johnson threw 3 shutouts in 4 days.
5-6 Cy Young (511 wins) never won his own award Click?
5-7 Four Alou brothers: Felipe, Jesus, Matty, and Boog Powell (wouldn’t you change your name if it was Boog Alou?) Click?

The Longfellow Rules

“(Baseball) breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall all alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.” 

-A. Bartlett Giamatti

Bart Giamatti was the shortest tenured commissioner in the history of the game, and perhaps the last real one. Because while his predecessors- Selig and Manfred- have been prolific at pimping and gimmickry, Giamatti used a deep and abiding love for the game as his compass. He would’ve been in all four corners of the country this October, taking it all in and penning more of that good thing.

Expanding the postseason was a gonna happen dynamic that has prevailed upon our need for love and romance on the diamond. And this October fortnight has been swoon worthy:  In the span of a week’s time, the MLB saw not one, not two but three one-hundred win juggernauts go by the wayside: You could almost understand the 101 win Mets going belly up since it’s become their fall standard ever since Mike Piazza left the building. But then the Braves got outfeisted (my word) by the Phillies in an accidental prize fight that went Balboa in a hurry.

Surely the Dodgers would hold strong against the National League’s barbarians best efforts to tear down the gates. Hell, not even Poe could kill the corporate beast from Chavez Ravine. And the Padres really didn’t feel like the team that was gonna do the slaying, in spite of their drinking game deadline deals for the two Joshes, Bell and Hader, along with the sweet swinging Juan Soto. And did I mention the Dodgers went 14-5 against their neighbors to the south during the regular season? As Sam Rothstein woulda said, There’s nuttin to see heah. 

Umm . . . . Sam?

Padres 5- Dodgers 3 FINAL

I woke up to that because I have the Padres in my notifications, like a side thing. My main men still reside in the Bronx, and they still have life thanks to Gerrit Cole’s balls to the wall seven inning samurai special in Cleveland that sends the divisional series to the fifteenth round tonight. Baseball royalty was my family seal, having been born in the Bronx and raised by a woman who used to talk shop with the likes of Mantle and Berra and Houk. But let’s face it, for the vast majority of baseball citizenry, rooting for the Yankees is akin to hoping Brad Pitt gets laid. It’s like being cool with Bill Gates winning Powerball. And I completely understand.

The Astros are baseball’s version of the smartest kid in class who decides to cheat on his SAT’s. It’s a damn shame their sign stealing went all fetishy because they have been Scarlett Lettered ever since. Nobody outside of Houston is going to love an October that ends with these guys on top and you know how I know this? Because most baseball Americans would gladly root for the Yankees to take them out.

That’s just sad.

It’s probably why I have such an affinity for the NLCS pairing. San Diego bills itself as “America’s Finest City” while Philadelphia . . . does not. And I think it’s adorable how both fan bases have a bit of an inferiority complex even if they would never admit as much. And it doesn’t hurt one Manny Mota of an iota that neither of these clubs was supposed to be here and yet, here they are.

That’s baseball theater at high tide right there. While most sports have to be broken down to their simplest elements, baseball is already there. It’s a game where the pitcher tells the ball what to do and the batter tries to talk that ball into doing something else entirely. It’s a game of hunches and hot streaks and quirks and yes, magic. That too.

I mean, if Bob Stanley or Calvin Schiraldi could’ve gotten any-fucking-body out on a crisp October night in Queens, Sawx fans wouldn’t have had to wait another eighteen years before the curse of the Bambino was lifted across town in the Bronx. And if Joe Carter’s wrists would’ve been a tick slower, the Phillies get to a game seven with Schilling in Toronto and I really would’ve loved their chances in that one. And if Johnny Damon doesn’t take third against the Phillies in 2009, maybe the Yankees World Series drought would be (Yikes!) twenty-two years instead of thirteen.

I watched the highlights of that Padres clincher against the Dodgers a couple times; once for the game highlights and once just to take in that magnificent engine of a crowd in full throttle. That sea of misbegotten browns and yellows that spun its mad rebellion as their princes slayed kings. And if you listened closely enough, you could almost hear them questioning all the answers.

Why not us?

 

The Midsummer Classic Hits LA! Or, A Rob Lowe Drinking Game Is Born!

In honor of the MLB All-Star Game in Los Angeles, Imma hold an awards ceremony with some serious -ish. Personally, I think hosting a bunch of stars in LA is incredibly redundant, but whatevs. All that really matters is that the Rob Lowe Drinking Game is gonna be a thing. Every time FOX cameras fix themselves on his lovely mug . . . Shot! The over/under in Vegas is currently sitting at 42, so yanno, plan accordingly.

Let’s Coo Coo Ca Choo, shall we?

The player I would name my stadium after . . .

Admittedly, I’m utilizing a Ruthian interpretation in an age of sponsored sports venues, but love is love, yanno? There are so many great young players in the MLB and I could have devoted this entire post just to them. But Rob Manfred ain’t gonna pay me for it so there’s that.

So I thought about how Mike Trout is the valedictorian just about every season, with his A plus game and looks straight out of central casting. Juan Soto’s sweet swing and inimitable skill set is most likely going to fetch him half a billion dollars in some town. Fernando Tatis would be on every other electronic billboard if he played in a big market. And Aaron Judge is a larger than life presence who has delivered more objects into orbit than NASA.

All these dudes are the right answer. To someone. But the fella I’m giving the keys to the joint to is Shohei Ohtani. Because he is a double threat the likes of which a sport that is nearly one-hundred and fifty years old has never seen before. He hits homers at an MVP clip whilst shutting down the opposition with an arm that turns out more lights than a bartender. He’s not simply sharing the rarified air of a guy named Ruth, he’s . . . . baseball gods forgive me . . .  exceeding it.

Every fan’s crazy for a sharp dressed team . . .

When considering which MLB team sports the coolest duds, there’s a long list to choose from. The standard bearers keep it simple and clean. Clubs like the Royals, Dodgers and Giants sport the fresh, classic look in their home jams. Teams like the  A’s and Orioles remain modern day throwbacks. And really, more than half the league keeps it cooler than cool with their (non-alternate) uniforms.

Above all others, it’s the St. Louis Cardinals home whites that do it for me. It’s joined at the hip with the town it calls home.

Winners and losers come and go, but baseball names are forever . . .

The MLB has always had a funky thing going when it comes to its tenants. From Buttercup Dickerson, Phenomenal Smith and Dizzy Dean to Sugar Cain, Razor Shines and Coco Crisp. Yeah, I could do a couple of posts on baseball names and not even come close to the finish line.

Today’s MLB is no different when it comes to cool names. You got Buck Farmer and Scooter Gennett. Then there’s Mookie Betts and Jurickson Profar. And I can’t forget about Chance Sisco and Ozzie Albies. But for my money, the winning name in today’s game goes to Tampa Bay’s Wander Franco. It’s science fiction meeting Kinsella in a novella.

Baseball stadiums separate the sport from all other professional leagues. And on this count at least, it’s not even close.

Unlike the other sports, baseball possesses no uniformity from one home to the next. Each team’s stadium is uniquely its own in some kind of way. From the Green Monster of Fenway to McCovey Cove in San Francisco to the fountains of Kansas City. And that’s not even to mention how cool so many of the game’s cribs truly are.

But for my money, PNC Park in Pittsburgh is the end all. Some day, the Pirates are going to field a team deserving of the stadium they play in. Hopefully that day comes before they raze the thing and replace it with a multi-use arena that houses six Starbucks stores and an IKEA. Until such time, Imma appreciate this gem on the Allegheny.

Of course I couldn’t go through an entire baseball awards-ish post without mentioning the team with the best record in baseball: My beloved New York Yankees.

There is no boast to my toast. Just a hopeful nod to the fall, where the wins are much harder to come by. See, Rob Manfred and his conniving cronies can’t steal the essence of the game from those of us who are old enough to know what stirrups and pepper games are.

October plays for keeps. Maybe the Yankees finish what they started, but it’s no fate accomplished. Not with the Astros standing in the way. Or maybe it’ll be the Sawx again, or the Jays for the first time in a while. And there’s a better than even chance it could be the Mets or Dodgers, Padres or Cards. And hell if I’m not leaving out the current hottest team in baseball: The Seattle Mariners. They haven’t been to October since 2001. Back then, the Yankees played spoiler by knocking off a Seattle squad that had toted the best regular season record into that series. And maybe there’s a Mariners fan or two who remembers all that and would love nothing more than for their team to return the favor. The only sure thing is that there ain’t one.

Only Longfellow knows for certain.

Still Perfectly Frank: 1st March ’22

Another month is nearing an end, Imma asked me to take a break from Beach Walk Reflections and pitch in for some random thoughts. Thanks to Marc for the space.

Photo by mali maeder on Pexels.com

February was the time for more Omicron, ground, Congo, hogs, inflation, Joe Rogan & Spotify, Putin’s disregard for humanity, presidential documents, trucker blockades, avocados, Super Bowl LVI, and the Ides of February. Damn, the Bengals have now lost three Super Bowls by a total of 12 points. We also remember those that left us in February such as a Holocaust survivor, the “Ghostbusters” producer, first responders, and the lead singer of Procol Harum.

February gave us the Olympics and its thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, stories of dedication, overcoming, perseverance, and much of humanity’s goodness – plus a bunch of crap from the Russians. But I enjoy watching the skill and strategy of curling. I’ve curled before, so believe me, it’s damn hard.

Many years ago I asked, “Why isn’t there a competition of acrobatics going off a ski jump?” Because they are doing that now, it’s time for more questions. Why isn’t there a competition involving an inner tube? When will there be a competition involving a sled going down the ski jump?

Maybe this summarizes February … but them there varmints aren’t beavers.

March starts with Mardi Gras ending (Fat Tuesday) and ends with Bunsen Burner Day. Interestingly, both involve calories. March is a time for monthly celebrations of noodles, quinoa, peanuts, frozen foods, adopting a rescued guinea pig, and more. March is a month for weekly celebrations of owls, procrastination, chocolate, and more. March is the month for daily celebrations including the following: sock monkeys (5th), Oreo cookies (6th), Bagpipes (10th), Pi (14th), Buzzards return to Hinckley (15th), Swallows return to Capistrano (19th), and many more. For those interested in a long list of March celebrations, click here.

Baseball’s spring training was set to start. I have a challenge for MLB and the Player’s Union. Go ahead – sit out the entire damn year! No guts, no glory for you. (Thanks for the ending, Soup Nazi.)

Attendance at college football games has dropped seven years in a row to 1981 levels? Damn, someone needs the No-Shit Sherlock Award for Brilliance! Let’s see – expensive tickets, game time is “To Be Announced” until the week before (prohibiting planning), annual booster fees for season ticket holders, and many games are on TV or streaming. However, the rich get richer because college football is big business.

Hats off to Steve Hartman (CBS News) for his features focusing on good news – like this one!

I’m not a fan of former Vice President Mike Pence, but a tip of the cap to him for refuting an ex-president by saying he did not have the Constitutional power to overturn the election.

“Legitimate political discourse” is an interesting description of the events of January 6, 2021. Meanwhile, let’s tear, shred, and flush official documents down the toilet while complaining about Hillary Clinton’s emails. Lock her up! Lock her up!

Back in the day, President Reagan pressured Mikhail Gorbachev to tear down the Berlin Wall. Today, Donald Trump praises Vladimir Putin as a genius and his move to declare two Ukrainian states independent as brilliant. Why didn’t President Reagan praise Russia for building a strong Berlin Wall? To John Dickerson (CBS News), thanks for the thought.

Speaking of Ukraine, here’s one from Rep. Lauren Boebert (R-Co). “I pray for Ukraine, and I wish them the best. They have a great president right now ….. But we also have neighbors to the north who need freedom and need to be liberated, and we need that right here at home as well.”

Former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo blames President Biden for the situation in Ukraine. I vehemently disagree because knowledge people know it’s Obama’s fault.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen so many censure declarations by a political party of their own as we are seeing these days. That’s just one more reason why I continue to say the two biggest problems in Washington are the Democrats and Republicans – and the wacky on each side are making it worse. Yes, AOC and her flock are like fingernails on a blackboard – they make my ears hurt!

While in Cincinnati endorsing author JD Vance for Senate, Rep. Margorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga) stated, “Vaccine mandates are the worst thing that has ever happened in America.” Yes MTG – worse than 9-11, Pearl Harbor, Oklahoma City bombings, the Great Depression, both World Wars, and our Civil War. Perhaps the people of her district who elected her are even more whacky than her.

Here’s more whacky! The mayor of Hudson (Ohio) spoke against ice fishing on a city park’s lake because, “And if you then allow ice fishing with shanties, then that leads to another problem. Prostitution.” He resigned – but I’m guessing because he’s now qualified for higher office.

A great American orator offers a great summary.

People love to complain about the weather forecast when it is off-target. But, I’m guessing more people trust their local weather personality about predicting the weather than epidemiologists and medical professionals about the pandemic.

As one final tribute to February, missing The Onion is missing a lot. After all, The Onion told us that Archeologists discover more old shit that sucks; Breast reduction surgeon freaks out after misplacing patient’s nipples; Teacher fired for breaking state’s Critical Race Theory laws after telling students she’s Black; and a 13-year-old drinking prodigy accepted to university.

Close the door to February and enjoy your March. I need a beach walk and a good last world. Click here for it. Toss in a good drink, time for a Bushwacker with a topper. Happy Pancake Day!

The Death of Swagger

There was a time when people showed their lack of hip by spewing antiquated proclamations meant to denounce the impetuous qualities of progress. Old timers castigated the kids of my generation for not schlepping through five feet of snow for miles just to get to school. We didn’t dare complain during a heatwave, because to do so meant we had to endure stories about a time when houses were nothing more than giant microwave ovens. Our parents took every opportunity to tell us how lucky we were to have playtime, since their lives consisted of chores, working odd jobs and avoiding polio.

Us kids didn’t get it, probably because we were too cool for old school. As Generation Xers, we got high on Tang, we got educated by Schoolhouse Rock and we got religion via 8-track players that ushered in an audacious expansion of music delivery systems. We were iconoclasts, leading a rebellion against an establishment yearning for a return to the days of Ike and Holy Hours and the Jitterbug.

We dreamed of third-parties, we gloried in the solidarity of the pet rock and we became soul proprietors of the Hustle. Not only did we make nerds relevant, we made them giants of industry. And it was during this glorious time that spanned the Beatles to Bon Jovi, where swagger was redefined. From the protagonist hegemony of John Wayne to the proletarian movement of Charles Bronson to Clint Eastwood, who obtained the patent.

Swagger wasn’t something you stuck a hashtag on. Simply put, if you had swagger it meant you walked your talk. You got shit done. You didn’t brag about having swagger, because to do so meant you most certainly didn’t have any. And so here I am, wondering what the hell the current generation has done to a venerated principle? Shit. these days all you need is some provocatively placed body art and an Instagram page to rate.

Which brings me to the present day New York Mets. As things stand, they are the baseball equivalent of the pet rock; a 200 million dollar paperweight with no definable purpose. They head into today’s action with a record of 63-67, 7.5 games out of first place and 7 games out of the wild card.

In all fairness, they have dealt with the injury bug in 2021. In more fairness, so have the San Francisco Giants and Chicago White Sox; and that hasn’t prevented them from staying atop their respective divisions. Injuries and bad luck happen to every club . . every season. Nobody gets a mulligan just because the baseball gods decided to piss on their chances. You either overcome or you get to stepping on your Christmas shopping.

Now, the Mets are a team I have a soft spot for thanks to my grandfather, who loved his whiskey and his baseball with the very same passion. I predicted the Mets would win their division this season because they had a roster I happened to dig on. They’ve got some swagger to them, sure, but up till a couple weeks ago it wasn’t getting in the way of the results on the field.

In early July, Pete Alonzo was defending his Home Run Derby crown, the team was talking up moves to bolster their playoff lineup and they were in first place, hell bent on stealing back the town from the Yankees. Today? They’re buried under two also ran football teams on the sports page depth chart.

In no uncertain terms, they have shit the bed, going 8-19 in August as they fight for their playoff lives. And hey . . whatever, that’s why the baseball season is an unforgiving crucible. I have zero problem with a club that falls short of expectations, seeing as how it happens to more than half the league.

What I have a problem with is when swagger meets stupid, and it happened this weekend when several players mutinied against booing fans by introducing a “thumbs down celebration” during their 9-4 win against the Nationals. Javy Baez is the ringleader of this clueless rebellion. While supremely talented, he also can’t be bothered to run out ground balls or hit the other way and God forbid his manager ever asked him to bunt. Baez is a feast or famine player who glories in home runs and shrugs off his many strikeouts. The Mets weren’t ignorant to his tone-deaf game when they acquired him from the Cubs at the trade deadline. Maybe they hoped for better, but thus far, Javy has lived down to his one trick pony act. Meanwhile, shortstop Francisco Lindor, who inked a $341 million dollar contract in the spring, probably has Steve Cohen wishing he had bought the Tampa Bay Rays instead.

I realize it’s a thankless game and so I didn’t have an issue with the less than stellar results, until they broke out their inane celebration on Sunday. After which Baez talked about how the booing makes him feel bad, while in the very same breath saying it doesn’t really get to him. Hence, an orchestrated attempt by Baez, Lindor and Kevin Pillar to exact revenge on a fan base that is paying stupid money for even stupider results. But wait, there’s more! (Or less, depending on how you look at it). Hours after Baez and Lindor explained how the thumbs down gesture was their way of booing the fans, Pillar sent out a tweet telling fans not to read anything into it.

You cannot make this shit up.

The good news for Mets fans is that there is a month of baseball left to be played. That also happens to be the bad news. And no, booing the club ain’t making things any better, but it’s not making things worse either, no matter what a few players might think. Because last time I looked, the Hall of Fame is filled with players who heard their fair share of boos and somehow prevailed.

I wish the Mets well but I’m dubious, seeing as how some of their best players are more intent on choreographing rebuttals to all that booing than actually working on the fundamentals. This Shakespearean tragedy of a baseball team is a sad reminder that swagger has become the domain of posers. Hell, in my day we would never have booed these guys.

We would have stayed home instead.

 

The Sorryless Non-Refundable 2021 MLB Season Preview!

Since I’m still trying to figure a way in to the Magic Dance Sunday series, I decided to change things up this week and go with something completely different. With spring training on the horizon, Imma summon my creative fastball with a 2021 preview of what to expect from the MLB this coming season. And as always, if you decide to place a wager based on these predictions, seek help . . immediately.

The season begins on April Fools Day, and the results are in keeping . . .

Newly acquired slugger George Springer hits a record five home runs in his Blue Jays debut as Toronto beats Gerrit Cole and the Yankees 21-18. New York signs NFL place-kicker Sam Ficken after the loss. In Colorado, the defending champion Dodgers score so many runs that the scoreboard operator resorts to Roman numerals after the fifth inning. Final score: Dodgers XXVIII- Rockies II. The New York Mets win their opener over the Nationals, after which the New York papers declare the NL East Race to be over. The Chicago White Sox club the home team Angels so badly that Mike Trout asks to be traded to a playoff contender. He is promptly dealt to the Rams for five first round draft picks.

Once the season gets its legs kicking, form wins out. In the National League, the Dodgers go undefeated until mid-July and end up beating out the San Diego Padres for the NL West. The Mets win the East going away, prompting owner Steve Cohen to ask for public money to build an exact replica of The Colosseum. For the first time in baseball history, an entire division- the NL Central- is eliminated from postseason play.

In the American League, the Yankees win the East but decide to sit out the playoffs since more than half the team is on the injured list. “We would have to call A-Rod back into service, and I’d much rather hold on to the soul the good Lord gave me,” Says manager Aaron Boone. The White Sox win the AL Central but are upstaged by the Chicago Bears trade for DeShaun Watson so the team announces it will be moving to the cornfields of Iowa in 2022. The Houston Astros win the AL Central despite playing in a literal dump, after MLB removes every trash can from Minute Maid Park.

The postseason is where things get carazy with a capital Ice-T.

The Dodgers fall flat after going 151-3 in the regular season, losing in three straight to the Mets, after which they attempt to trade for the Rams Mike Trout but are thwarted since LA is undefeated thanks in large part to the running back’s MVP caliber season. The Mets then lose a hard fought classic to the Padres in seven games, when Fernando Tatis hits a pennant clinching home run in extra innings. The Mets lodge a protest claiming they led for the first three innings and thus should be awarded the game but the case goes nowhere since the GOP already tried that in the 2020 Presidential election.

In the American League, with the Yankees out, the Tampa Bay Rays stand in for them and proceed to sweep the Astros out of the playoffs. Houston promises to bring a pennant back to Houston next season, after the city’s health department orders the team to house trash cans in their stadium by 2022. The Rays are then swept out themselves by the White Sox, after which the team enters into discussions with the city of Tampa to build a tax-payer funded stadium for the team . . in Montreal.

The World Series is a winner for baseball fans, even if the networks complain that a San Diego/Chicago World Series is a ratings killer on the level of The Alliance of American Football. Fox Sports President Mark Silverman petitions to have the teams replaced with New York and Los Angeles and Commissioner Rob Manfred suggests two World Series be played. The idea goes nowhere since daytime World Series games would have to be played in order to pull it off, and no network worth its gravy is going to forfeit prime time ratings, sorry kids.

With the series locked at three games apiece, the deciding game is played in a snowstorm. It’s the first such storm to hit San Diego in more than fifty years. Illinois GOP Chairman Don Tracy calls it a “Gift from God” but is refuted by California Governor Gavin Newsom who proclaims it to be a byproduct of climate change. Feeling right at home in the elements, the White Sox push five runs across the board and hold serve through the first seven innings before the Padres answer with three runs of their own after replacing their cleats with snowshoes. The game goes to the bottom of the ninth inning with the White Sox clinging to a 5-4 lead when Fernando Tatis comes to the plate with one man on and two outs.

“Tom Brady is one swing away from delivering San Diego its first Stanley Cup ever!” Says a clearly inebriated Joe Buck. The Fox announcer will later admit he played a drinking game in which he downed a shot of tequila every time a batter struck out in Game 7. To the great entertainment of Fox viewers, the teams combine to strike out a record forty six times.

Tatis quickly falls behind 0-2 and appears to tweak his left shoulder, which forces him to finish his at bat from the left side. A Fox Graph follows, grimly predicting the Padres chances of winning to be less than Hilary Clinton’s in a Presidential election. Somehow, Tatis works the count to 3-2 as Joe Buck is replaced in the booth by the legendary Vin Scully, who tucks the baseball season to bed.

“And Tatis has sustained every punch the odds have thrown his way, from the frigid snowflakes out of Currier and Ives to the fiery bullets being served up by Sox closer Alex Colome. Add in the fact that Tatis is batting from the left side for the first time since his days as a prospect in the Dominican League. And now El Nino, as befitting a name in these conditions as Henry Thoreau could muster, is being asked to pen a Cinderella ending for the Friars . . .”

” . . . Colome will be pitching from the windup here with the whole of October in the offing. And now the pitch . . . hit deep down the right field line, if it’s fair its gone . . . it iiiiiiiiiis GONE!” 

And then Scully does something remarkable. He lets the scene play out without injecting a single, solitary adjective. He lets the tapestry of joy and heartbreak play out on its own, and he allows the viewers . . to view. Three minutes worth of watching men transform themselves into little boys again. Stomping through a miracle ending on the way to baseball nirvana. Inside this moment, the world settles into a most agreeable place, where magic and reality intertwine before the season gets lost to winter. And in the dark confines of the losing dugout can be heard that most dignified appraisal of not just baseball, but life itself.

Wait till next year.

 

The Meaning Of Substance

From the first time I cradled a Louisville Slugger, I was hooked. There was something immensely captivating about gripping the barrel of that perfectly crafted stick. It was a portal whose ability to transform a gangly eleven year old into one of his heroes was the reason I fell in love with the national pastime across one baseball summer.

Batting stances, they were my thing. I loved collecting them, like so many trading cards. There were scores of funky batting stances going on in the MLB, and each one facilitated a wholly different experience when you tried it on for size . From Doug DeCinces’ back to the pitcher pose to Brian Downing doing just the opposite. There was Don Baylor’s “Royal Guard” and Mickey Rivers hunched over pose which was always followed with a baton flip of his bat on a swing and miss. And of course, there was the imitable Rod Carew. The legendary batsman didn’t swing a bat so much as wave a magic wand when he stepped into the box. His was the maestro serve to the pitcher’s volley and his talent for readjusting the spin of a pitcher’s meanest choice was nothing short of mystical.

Hank Aaron had retired by the time I started following the game in the spring of 1978. All I had to go on when referencing his mighty swing were black and white photos of his time with the Milwaukee Braves and of course, his record breaking smack against Al Downing of the Los Angeles Dodgers; the night when Vin Scully tucked the great man’s opus into the record books for posterity. The night when Babe Ruth doffed his cap and ceded his crown to a black man from the deep south.

Of course, it was never that easy for Aaron. I didn’t know of the struggles he endured as he made his way through the Negro Leagues and into the minor league system of professional baseball. I had no idea as to the scathing hatred he faced on a daily basis, both in the stands and in his own dugout. And I hadn’t yet learned about the nightmarish proposition he faced in the time before and after breaking the all time MLB home-run record: The letters threatening his life and the lives of his family if he dared break Ruth’s record.

All I knew was that Hank Aaron’s swing was a forever kind of deal, with the way he turned a baseball bat into a hammer sent down from the baseball Gods. His swing was crisp and lean, no fat. It was workmanlike in nature until the barrel hit the gas pedal and formed a chemical compound with that fiery pill, blasting it into the deep blue sky. It could be said that Hank Aaron recruited more astronauts than NASA, because every single fan who watched his orbit was transported to the stars.

Hank Aaron and that mighty swing passed in to the ether last week. It was a swing borne of a great American dream, hard earned and complicated. A swing whose brilliance served as a master’s course for baseball fans everywhere. And it was the swing that produced 755 career home runs, which was the MLB record when he retired from the game.

In my eyes, it still is.

 

2020: The Opener

Frank here. Today is the COVID-19 version of starting a season. But not in Cincinnati where Opening Day is more than a spot on the calendar – it’s an event. The circumstances make this year different here – no parade and the streets won’t be jammed with people dressed in red. Although my team must wait until tomorrow, the game is back today for a short season and an uncertain future.

To mark the return of the boys of summer, here’s a little bit about the grand ole game – the national pastime we call baseball.

 

The Place – A local cathedral dedicated to the game where people gather to worship with faith and allegiance for their team and yell praise to their cleated heroes. A place for relaxing, eating popcorn, getting excited, holding the breath, hoping, then moaning or screaming – back to relaxing, then something different will probably happen – and if you watch baseball long enough, something new. A place for popcorn, hotdogs, peanuts, Cracker Jacks, cold drinks, and standing to sing during the seventh-inning stretch. Let alone reunite with memories and make new ones.

The Field – A four-cornered diamond. Home at the bottom – and affectionately called the plate. Three bases counterclockwise from home: first, second, and third. All four corners are 90 feet apart. The field is defined by extending lines from home to first and home to third continuing to a wall.

The Game – Divided into nine segments called innings. Each with two halves, one for each team to bat. In the end, the team with the most runs wins the game.

The Ball – Nine inches in circumference, weighing five ounces. A piece of cork wound in yarn, covered with rawhide, then bound with 216 stitches.

The Pitcher – The one in charge of the ball. Standing on a mound of special dirt in the center of the diamond and known as the hill. Sixty feet, 6 inches from home, and ten inches higher than the rest. The pitcher is the one who can make the ball spin, curve, rise, fall, and even wobble to and fro. Sliders, sinkers, heat, and curves known as Uncle Charlie, but from Dwight Gooden, it’s Lord Charles.

The Defense – The other eight teammates of the pitcher. One catcher behind home to catch the ball from the pitcher is required. The other seven can be anywhere on the field – even at the hot corner. All nine players wear a  glove specialized by position, but chosen by players based on personal preferences. The objective is to prevent the batter from returning home by going from base to base.

The Opponents – a batter and eight others anxiously waiting to swing the bat at home against the pitcher. If they are lucky, they will be able to run the bases with hopes of returning home. Better yet, hit the ball over the wall for an opportunity to touch all the bases during a glorious trot without any threats.

The Batter – On the opposite team as the pitcher and holding a trimmed wooden stick made to specifications. The batter has fractions of a second to react to the ball thrown by the pitcher at varying speeds. Even the best batters fail 65-70% of the time.

Independent Arbiters – Dressed in black or dark blue, not members of either team to make decisions. The head cheese behind home, and three blind mice – one near each base.

The Game – Balls and strikes; fair and foul; single, double, triple, and home run; walk, hit by pitch, balk, and interference; sacrifice bunt, sacrifices fly, and suicide squeeze. Speed, stolen base, hit and run, clear the bases, grand slam. The batting team gets three chances for success before switching places to be the defense, which normally happens 16 or 17 times in a game – but it could be more.

Righties, southpaws, starters, relievers, and closers painting the black, delivering chin music, and throwing hooks, heat, backdoor sliders, brushbacks, changeups, nibbles, whiffs, out pitches, and striking out the side – all in hopes of a no-no.

Batters swinging lumber as leadoff hitters, cleanup hitters, power hitters, professional batsmen, and banjo hitters hoping for liners, ropes, grounders, gappers, seeing-eye singles, bloopers, Texas leaguers, frozen ropes, one-baggers, two-baggers, three-baggers, four-baggers, dingers, taters, and even accepting dying quails – especially with ducks on the pond or the bases loaded. Touch ‘em all! Curtain call … but don’t get caught in a pickle.

The defense with running, leaping, diving, circus, and shoestring catches. Turning tailor-made double plays are a pitcher’s best friend. Climbing the wall to make the catch allows the pitcher to breathe a sigh of relief after holding their breath.

The batter is up. The pitcher takes to the mound, and the windup to throw the ball. Swing at the ball, hit the ball, run, chase the ball, catch the ball, scoops and dives, touch the base, tag the runner, foot on the bag, bang-bang, out, and around the horn. Three up and three down, now let’s get some runs.

It’s the top of the ninth and the bases are jammed. No place to put the batter. Two down and the tying run is on first. The go-ahead run at the plate. The nervous crowd is standing and cheering for their heroes to hang on for a victory.

The pitcher is on the hill. Stares for the sign. From the stretch. A high hard one up and in. The crowd gasps. The batter goes down, then intensely stares at the pitcher. Back to his feet, then brushing off his pants, the batter digs in for the attack.

From the stretch, a pause, steps off, the stretch, and the pitch. A hanging breaking ball, a lined shot to the power alley that has a chance to leave the yard … off the wall. One run scores, two runs score, the tying run is rounding third and heading for home. A strong throw to the relay man, the throw, a play at the plate. Out! … and this one belongs to the Reds. The crowd goes wild, time to go home happy. Drive safely.

Yes – that’s baseball. The great American pastime. The game looks easy, but it is strategic and difficult.

Me and Oscar Wilde at a Ballgame

We sit along the third base line as the late summer afternoon puts another quarter in the jukebox of a melodious sky whose lyrics rhyme with every kind of forever after kind of place. And Oscar, he minds to the third baseman, who’s being rather possessive of the mussed up bag he’s responsible for guarding.

“The chap is of a mind to take that thing you call a base home with him, it would seem . . .”

“It’s why they refer to third base as the ‘Hot corner’. Because if you’re looking for the most suspenseful of locales on a diamond? It’s as good a place to start as any,” I explain.

Seven innings down and I’ve explained a lot of the nuts and bolts of a typical game to the old boy. He digests every morsel of information before spitting out literary devices in return, so the bargain? It’s fantastic as far as I’m concerned.

“Why does the fellow on the mound behave in such a fastidious manner? Is it not considered poor etiquette to deny the batter his involvement with this baseball?”

“Involvement with this baseball . . I don’t think Ted Williams could have said it any better than that, my man. Well see, it’s like this. The pitcher is attempting to talk that baseball into doing his bidding. But the batter, he is well aware of the liberties he might be able to take with the very same ball. So the pitcher holds on, as if holding to a lover he fears might quit him,”

“I see. So . . chess with a sidearm?”

“Oh God, Oscar. I can’t imagine Vin Scully could paint a baseball portrait any better!” I say.

“Here, here!” He replies as we clink our plastic cups full of a brand new round of merry.

“And there are how many stanzas to this parade again? . . Nine?” He asks,

“Officially, yes. But unofficially, the game could last forever. There is no clock, there is no time limit. I’m going to lend you a book . .it’s called The Iowa Baseball Confederacy. The author, W.P. Kinsella . . he will educate you as to why the game is like no other game ever invented. Because if both teams are tied after nine innings have been played . . they keep on playing until someone breaks the seal. Home team always batting last . . .”

“Ah, it’s very much like when I penned The Importance of Being Earnest. There were indeed moments that stretched into days and weeks and yes, months . . where I believed the very core of the sun would meet its end before I might conclude! And as it were, I produced several books out of that one . . before business was attended to and the pages were snipped into a more agreeable fashion, as it were . .” Oscar says.

“Because the words are like a baseball game, huh? They have no real end to them. The precarious little buggers,” I say.

“So, assuming this contest does not outlast the sun? Might you have a place for me to settle in, where I may commence with a postlude on the day’s events? It is my solemn wish to share these moments with strangers whose divinity can be found at the bottom of a well apportioned glass!”

“There is a place, across the bridge in fact. Full of firemen whose ancestry goes back to when these streets were navigated by horse drawn carriages. Romantic like that,” I smile.

“Are they the sort to appreciate a good story?” Oscar asks.

“As long as the tap is singing and the company understands the fine art of colorful language . . yes. But I must warn you, they are rascals, the whole lot of them,” I warn him good naturedly.

“I do love a good rascal,”

We toast as the inning ends on a double play, cut clean from the geometrical nursery rhyme of Tinkers to Evers to Chance. And the sun splashes down in one final vertical thrust before bidding adieu.

The visitor’s half of the ninth inning begins with the home team having things well in hand, by a 6-2 score. But with one man out, a rally gets to stepping and the next thing we know it’s 6-4 with two men out, but the bases loaded. And now the buzz of the crowd folds into a single, collective hush as their best hitter steps to the plate with all manner of bad intentions as far as that baseball is concerned.

And now the windup . . and now the pitch . . .