No Joy in Mudville

Liar. Cheater. Scumbag.

I remember when I was a kid, I loved to listen to my dad tell stories about all manner of his memories from when he was a kid.

He'd tell me about the amazing powers of The Green Lantern, and about playing pick-up basketball at the old JCC with the road teams who were in town to play the Cincinnati Royals, and about how he accidentally shredded his brother's foot in the spokes of his bike.

I loved all of them. I ate them up. I soaked them all in...

My favorite stories were always about baseball. Probably because I was utterly obsessed with the sport.

I made my dad help me recite the top home run hitters of all time. "Hank Aaron 755. Babe Ruth 714. Willie Mays 660. Frank Robinson 586."  He used to tell me that Johnny Bench could hold a million baseballs in his hand. He would tell me about how getting Joe Morgan for Lee May made the the Reds the greatest team of the 1970s and among the greatest teams ever.

I remember watching TV when Pete Rose came back to town to re-sign with the Reds. I was 4 years old and I remember seeing the footage of Pete's car coming across the bridge. I will never forget going with my mom to the game BEFORE Pete broke Cobb's record. I made a sign. Pete went 0 for 4.

The first poem I ever wrote was about the 1994 strike. The Reds winning the 1990 World Series still, 23 years later, counts as one of the 10 greatest moments of my life. Maybe that's sad, but I guarantee I'm not the only one.

 I would throw ball after ball against the wall of my grandparent's house. Always aiming for the small square my grandpa had drawn in blue crayon. Always pretending to be Mike Schmidt, who was, in my opinion, the greatest third baseman ever. I held that opinion even then, because some time in 1984 or 85 my dad and I were watching the Reds play the Phillies, and my dad pointed out Schmidt at the plate. He said "This guy is really good. He hits a lot of home runs.". Then Schmidt homered. It was like he could do it on command. It was like my dad made it happen. Baseball is magical, I guess.

No... I don't guess. Baseball IS magical. There's no 9 part Ken Burns documentary on Football... As much as we all love football, it isn't (and will never be) baseball.

And now, I'm not sure baseball is baseball.

Look... I realize I'm late to this party. The McGwires and Sosas and Bonds and Palmeiros and Giambis and all of those guys who stood there and pointed and pretended to not speak English and dissembled and claimed ignorance... they are the ones who put doubt in the mind of every fan. They are the ones who shattered the sacred records and spat on the legacies of Roger Maris and Hank Aaron and every other player who achieved their astronomical records legitimately.

Then... after all of those bombs dropped over and over... Starting with Raphael Palmeiro (outed while I was driving back from the Baseball Hall of Fame induction weekend with my dad and the Brawny Hombre) and capping off with Barry Bonds, there were swaths of legends felled by allegations, assertions, and often direct evidence of their cheating. It was a dark time, to be sure. We had a single-season and career homer champion whose numbers are questioned.  In 1998 there was this incredible home run race to 62 homers by two separate men, often regarded (along with Cal Ripken's longevity streak) as the moment baseball resurrected herself from the ashes of a horrible players strike. Only 5 years later that same chase could arguably be seen as nothing more than a slap in the face to Roger Maris and his family.

Numbers we hallowed our entire lives were being surpassed by these hulking behemoths with clubs, and as quickly as they shattered the records, they were outed as being cheats. Baseball fans everywhere could no longer hold on to the one thing they'd always had as an advantage over the fans of other sports. The statistics. The beautiful, simple statistics.

I thought we were going in a better direction. Power numbers went down to more historically consistent levels in conjunction with new drug testing policies. More and more players were openly in favor of cleaning up the sport.

And yet... Here comes Ryan Braun. A player with prodigious power and offensive polish who'd tested positive late in his MVP season and insisted he was innocent. He dragged the name of the tester through the mud. He pulled out all of the legal stops on his league-allowed appeal, and HE WON. He won his appeal on some very nebulous technicality, and he returned to the field none-the-worse for wear the next season. Don't even get me started on the "coincidence" that the owner of the team for whom Braun plays also happens to be the commissioner of baseball. How that's not a conflict of interest I'll never know.

Now, today, he was suspended for the rest of the season based on some apparently damning evidence in some report and it must be pretty clear, because the Great Appealer isn't appealing. He's now admitting to some "mistakes".  

Apparently he's just the first domino in a long line of suspensions and bombs to come. Alex Rodriguez is on the list. A-Rod is currently 6th on the all time homers list, and was up until last year the single biggest contender to pass the other cheater, Barry Bonds for the record. It's very likely now that he'll never come close, and maybe won't ever play again.

You know... none of this is news. None of us are surprised anymore. I'm certainly not.

I'm just sad. I'm sad that the stories my dad told me as a kid are somehow laced with asterisks now. I'm sad that every number has to be questioned and scrutinized. I'm sad that heroes like Hank Aaron and Roger Maris are no longer the official holders of those iconic records. I'm sad that when the dads of my generation tell their kids about the great players they watched growing up, that the most exciting ones were cheaters.

I love Tony Gwynn and Greg Maddux as much as anyway, but the players who I pretended to be on the diamond, the ones who drew me to the game I love, were the mashers and the flame throwers and a lot of those guys are liars.

Baseball better figure it out fast, because this shit bums me out. It's gotta end. We've gotta have the purity of our game.

It's a "Gut" Thing.

I’m 32 years old.

There are very few people who’d say that is “Old”, but I feel it sometimes, nonetheless. I rarely think about that in most of my life. You know… aside from the occasional “Wow… the kids who start high school this year were born the year I graduated”, there aren’t a lot of real life reminders.

The one thing that always gets me, though, is sports. I’m confronted with reminders every day. I think about how if I were a major league baseball player (my short-lived childhood dream), I’d likely be declining out of my prime by now. I think how I vividly remember the 1992 USA Basketball team, and how that was 20 years ago, and how every single one of those players is long retired. I remember guys like Allen Iverson, Shaquille O’Neal, Jeff Bagwell, Mike Piazza… where I remember their entire careers from beginning to end.

And now…

Barry Larkin is in the Hall of Fame.

Barry Larkin was my favorite Red growing up. He was the best (or 2^nd best) player on every Reds team for my entire childhood. His career spanned, almost exactly , the same years I spent in school. I started 1^st grade in 1986, his rookie year. I graduated college in 2002, his 2^nd to last year. I saw him play more games in person than any other player. He was the most recognizable player of the only championship team of my lifetime.

Now… he wasn’t my first favorite Red. That honor goes to Johnny Bench or Pete Rose or maybe Mario Soto, but those guys weren’t my players. They were my Dad’s players, and since I want(ed) to be like him, I adopted the players he admired. Pete Rose’s rookie season happened when my dad was 9 years old. Pete Rose was my Dad’s Barry Larkin.

Barry Larkin was the first favorite Red of MY time as a baseball fan.

I’ve had a long running argument with my best friend (The Brawny Hombre) about whether Larkin deserved to be in the Hall of Fame. I always took the “Pro” in that fight, and maybe aside from the overwhelming numerical support for my argument, there was always something else. Something unquantifiable.

The Brawny Hombre always made the statement that it was more of a “gut” feeling that told him Larkin wasn’t a hall of famer, and I made the same argument for him.

You see, for me…Barry Larkin WAS baseball for me, growing up. He was the guy I wanted to hit like. He was the guy who carried me through the dark end of the Marge era. He was the guy who led the most exciting teams of my life, the 1990, 1995, and 1999 Reds teams. He was the guy who ALWAYS got on base, who ALWAYS made right base-running decision, who ALWAYS got to the ball in the hole. He was Barrrrrryyyyyy LARK-innnnnnnnnn. Through all those years, the Reds had other good players. Eric Davis was electrifying. Chris Sabo was a fun flash. Jose Rijo was a reliably strong starting pitcher. Rob Dibble was Aroldis Chapman before Aroldis Chapman... and was completely insane. Reggie Sanders…Paul O’Neill… Ken Griffey Jr… Sean Casey. God forbid, Adam Dunn.

None of them held quite the same place of esteem in my heart and mind that Barry Larkin did… Does.

It’s a sign that I’m getting older that a player came up, rose to greatness, declined as all players do, retired, and achieved his place in the Hall of Fame, and I remember it all. I loved it all.

I can’t think of a player I’ve rooted for as hard as I rooted for Barry Larkin. Maybe, one day, another player will come along to grab my imagination. It’s going to be difficult. I’m a jaded old adult now. I’m not as prone to idolatry.

Maybe that’s as it should be. When my dad talks about his favorite baseball moments, he invariably talks about The Big Red Machine. The team of his youth. Baseball is a kid’s game afterall. My teams were Larkin’s teams. My favorite player was Barry Larkin.

And now Barry Larkin is in the hall of fame, validating the 10 year old kid who would scream and yell and cheer for his hero at Riverfront Stadium all those times.

And damn… I’m old.

Bringing the Hate

Don't you worry, Bee Pee. I got your back.

Brandon Phillips, the Cincinnati Reds second baseman, was one of my favorite Reds before today.

After today he may be my all time favorite.

You see... Brandon Phillips brought back one of the greatest traditions in all of sports. A tradition that has fizzled and died under the surge of free agency and hyper-rich athletes who all live next door to each other in Orlando and Scottsdale.

Brandon Phillips brought back the hate.

Here's what he said about the St. Louis Cardinals:

"I'd play against these guys with one leg. I hate the Cardinals. All they do is bitch and moan about everything, all of them, they're little bitches, all of 'em. I really hate the Cardinals. Compared to the Cardinals, I love the Chicago Cubs. Let me make this clear: I hate the Cardinals.”

Thank you, Brandon Phillips. You have made me smile one of the most sincere sports-related smiles I can remember.

I will always remember talking to my dad about baseball as a kid, and hearing about how when he was growing up, he HATED the Los Angeles Dodgers. I re-confirmed this with him today... He said "We all hated them. We hated everything about them. The way the played. The way they acted. Everything."

In the 60s and 70s the Reds and the Dodgers were the two best teams in the National League. They were always fighting and competing and hating each other. And it was great. That's where rivalries come from.

Then, as free agency gained steam and players played for multiple teams over the course of their careers and they got richer and more detached, the rivalries fizzled. Too often you'd see first basemen chatting with runners at first base. You'd see catchers and batters exchanging friendly words between pitches. It makes me fucking sick.

I am sad I never got to see the days when a Juan Marichal would beat Johnny Roseboro with a bat at home plate.

I'm not saying there should be REAL hate. I don't wish bad things for Chris Carpenter in his personal life, but do I want the Reds to shove that baseball up his whiny ass every chance they can get.

It's good for sports to have rivalries. It's good for fans to have teams to root against. They made musicals about how much people hated the Damn Yankees back in the day, for god's sake.

I love what Brandon Phillips said. Even if it's not true (it is true. totally true) it's a throwback to the days when the players didn't all live in the same gated communities in South Beach in the off season. That's only a good thing.

Tonight, in response, the Cardinal's catcher Yadi Molina started proving Bee Pee right by acting like a little bitch and whining that Brandon huwt his feewings. Then they fought. Like enemies should. And it made me laugh and smile, because finally... FINALLY I have MY Dodgers. I have a team that I can unequivocally root against every minute of every game. I did anyway, but this makes it even better.

The Reds are finally good again. They are finally good enough to have a rivalry that means something. It's pretty freaking awesome.

My Saddest Baseball Moment

Yup. That's an out.

My buddy Alan and I have often talked about the nature of umpiring in baseball. Alan firmly believes that baseball umpires should be held fully accountable for their terrible calls. I have always agreed. There's this feeling that they're above reproach... They cultivate this by tossing anyone who gives them a sideways glance. I mean... They literally can eject a player for simply arguing balls and strikes. It's completely out of hand.

Umpires make mistakes... In fact, it's always been argued that the "human element" is integral to the game itself. The very fabric of what makes baseball "baseball". This is the argument that has always been made against instant replay. It takes away that human element. Well... you know what I say about that?

Bullshit. It's bullshit. It's always been bullshit, and it will always be bullshit. You can't convince me that a game maintains its integrity by allowing, even implicitly encouraging fuck-ups by the people expressly assigned to make sure the game is played properly.

Until tonight I've felt there was at least room for argument. I'm always up for a debate, and I could always allow for room to be wrong. Like I said... Until tonight.

Tonight, Armando Gallaraga pitched a perfect game. The 21st perfect game in major league baseball history. Let me put that in perspective... Jajor League Baseball is over 110 years old and there have only been 21 perfect games. It's the rarest event in professional sports. It the hardest thing to do. Before this season, there had only been 18 ever. This season there have been 3. That's never happened before, and it's only June 2nd (well.... technically it's June 3rd now, but whatever.)

So, what about that blog title? "My Saddest Baseball Moment". Well... Even though Armando Gallaraga did something that had only been done 20 times before in baseball history, he will not be credited for it. Even though everybody knows and even acknowledges that he pitched a perfect game, the box score shows that he pitched a one-hit shut-out. A truly miraculous thing itself.

Why is the box-score lying? Well, because an umpire badly botched a call that resulted in the last batter of the 27 batters to reach base on what was deemed a hit. So badly did that umpire both the call that he quoted after the game: "It was the biggest call of my career, and I kicked the shit out of it. I just cost that kid a perfect game. I thought he beat the throw. I was convinced he beat the throw, until I saw the replay."

You know how you know a call is a travesty? When the umpire himself admits it.

See for yourself how fucking terrible it was...

God damn does that make me sad. I can honestly say that I have never in my life been as sad about a baseball game as I am right now. It's a combination of a lot of things. I feel terrible for the poor guy who probably will never sniff another chance to pitch a game without flaw. I feel terrible for the umpire who will have to live with that mistake for the rest of his life. I feel terrible for the fans of Detroit, who have already had a tough season. And I feel terrible for the game I love that may have finally found the ultimate example of why it has lost touch with reality, just like people have said for years. I'm just so bummed.

If this situation isn't a call to immediately institute instant replay, then I don't know what is. I've always defended baseball... People called it boring, and I've called it deliberate. People have called it static, and I've called it poetic. People have called it old-fashioned, and I've called it noble. As Father said in "Ragtime": "You'll like baseball. It's a civilized past time."

Well... You know what isn't civilized? Having the technology and the authority to make the right call, but fucking it up so badly, that this poor guy will forever have to hold on to some spikey little asterisk for the rest of his life. Players after the game were saying things like "I know in my heart I played in a perfect game." and "I'm going to have him sign a ball on the day he threw his perfect game".

Well... he shouldn't have to hold on to the consolation prize of "knowing in his heart". If Bud Selig had a single tiny testicle in his entire shriveled body, he would make an announcement immediately that the call has been overturned, and that Armando Gallaraga has his Perfect Game.

That's the only justice. It makes me sick otherwise. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to defend baseball again if this isn't made right. I know I'm rambling, and I know I should have gone to bed an hour ago, but I'm captivated by this story. I had to write about the pit I feel in my stomach when I watch his jubilation at achieving something so rare get robbed from him by a mistake.

Everyone makes mistakes. That's true. The thing is... there's nothing that says we absolutely MUST live with those mistakes.

Make it right Baseball. Make it right, or forever be branded a game so out of touch with reality that I'm not sure I will ever be able to feel exactly the same way about the sport I love again.

I'll leave you with the words of Joe Girardi, Manager of the New York Yankees (a team completely uninvolved with this particular game): "I think [overturning the call] is something that baseball should look at possibly because if they do change it, it doesn't affect the game. It doesn't affect the outcome. I know it will be the first time that it's ever happened but you're talking about a very unusual circumstance."

Recent Activities

My apologies for the lack of posting the last few days... I'll be back blogging around on Wednesday evening... Here are the things I'll be discussing...

- Time Travel questions raised by Hot Tub Time Machine.

- My eyelid has decided to stage a revolt.

- A book review of The Forest of Hands and Teeth.

- More rants on the behavior of other people's kids

- A review of the Denver Zoo.

- The opening day of baseball season.

Also, I'm tossing around a writing idea that would be a bit larger in scale. If anyone is interested in reading it piece by piece as it evolves, let me know. Maybe the knowledge that people are reading will make me actually do my page per day.

That should keep me busy for a while.

Quick Baseball Picks

Man... 3 blogs in a day. I'm Cuh-razy.

Just a quick one to get my baseball playoff picks on record (you know... to be mocked accordingly).

National League:

Philles Vs. Rockies
PICK: Phillies in 4. I like the Phillies a lot, and in a short series their pitching is just too strong. I'm not going to count out the Rockies, who have officially made the playoffs 3 times more than the Reds since they came into existence, but I think the Phillies are to tough.

Cardinals Vs. Dodgers
PICK: Dodgers in 5. The Cardinals are probably the better team, and neither was exactly tearing it up down the stretch, but Manny still makes a difference, and the Dodgers have the home field advantage.

Phillies Vs. Dodgers
PICK: Phillies in 7. I think this series has great potential, but really this is just a guess on my part. The Phillies have the parts and the experience. The Dodgers have Manny and an absolutely murderous bullpen.

American League

Yankees vs. Twins
PICK: Yankees in 3. Hate to say it, but I saw the head to heads for this season. A Twins in will be their first against the Yankees this season, and without Morneau (even though they're now 17-4 since he went down) I don't see the Twins making it that close.

Red Sox vs. Angels
PICK: Angels in 5. The Sox weren't exactly inspiring down the stretch. The Angels have the whole "We have something to play for" angle.

Yankees vs. Angels
PICK: Yankees in 6. The Angels put up a good fight, but with the deciding games being played in the Bronx... Looks like A-Rod makes his first World Series.

World Series:

Yankees vs. Phillies
PICK: Phillies in 6. A potentially great series, but I have to believe that the Baseball Gods hate A-Rod just enough to keep a ring off his finger. This is my only analysis.

The Perfect Game

"There's nothing wrong with a one-hitter, there, Barbie. In fact, it's miraculous. And I won't have you of all people cheapen what should be an endless pursuit of perfection just because you want the world to laugh with you tonight."
-- Dr. Cox, Season 1 Episode 12 of Scrubs "My Blind Date"

Baseball is my favorite sport. I've been told lately that I toss around the word "Favorite" a lot, but baseball really truly is my favorite. Has been since I was but a tot. For some reason it's always spoken to me on a deeper level than any other sports.

There are a lot of reasons... I'm hopelessly sentimental, and I have dozens of warm memories from my childhood that revolve around baseball. I love arguing, and there's no better sport to debate (Barry Larkin vs. Greg Maddux for 1995 MVP... GO!). I love history, and what sport has a richer, more colorful history than baseball?

Those are all big reasons for me... but maybe the biggest correlates to this gut feeling that baseball just makes sense on a cosmic level. I've stated, probably entirely unoriginally, that I believe baseball is a beautiful allegory for life in microcosm. I was discussing this recently with the Decidedly-UnBeefy Muchacha (I'm working on a cooler nickname for her), and she suggested that I get it down on pixel here in the blog. So here it is...

Baseball as Life.

Despite the claims to the contrary, life IS fair.
Everyone says that life's not fair, but I totally disagree. Life often sucks. Life is rarely balanced. When you look at life's individual moments, many of them are unfair. However, when you look at life as a whole... the WHOLE fucking thing, it all pans out exactly the way it should. I'm not saying that it's always good, because, let's be honest here... people often equate "fair" and "good for them", and that's just wrong, but it's exactly how things SHOULD be. Same with baseball. It's not a sprint, but a marathon. You NEVER see a team win the World Series without earning it. I'll use this year as an example... The Kansas City Royals and The Florida Marlins both started the season super hot. We're now about 60 games into the season and they are both currently in 4th place in their respective divisions... There are no pretenders in baseball... Sure you'll occasionally get a really weak division where a bad team makes the playoffs, but you don't see them winning.
The overall point is that Life is long like a 162 game baseball season. There are peaks and valleys, streaks and slumps... but in the end you always end up right where you should.

Everybody gets the same chance.
I said it. I know that on the surface this seems patently false. People are born in slums or mansions. People have phyisical advantages. People have genetic advantages. That's all true, and that's not at all what I'm talking about. On a spiritual level we're all given the same chance to be a good person. To make smart choices. To be upstanding. That's a pretty twee things to say... I know. I acknowledge that everyone has different obstacles in their way. I would contend, though, that everyone HAS obstacles. In baseball, these same issues arrise. Each team has the same number of innings. The same number of outs. Each batter has the same number of strikes and balls. And as with life, there are obstacles. A home team bats second. Certain ball parks are better suited to different styles of play. Some players are naturally better than others. The more important factor, though, is that every game is played by the same defined standards. It doesn't end in a tie (except for one dumb All Star game). I know if I'm going to the ball park, I'm gonna see 9 Innings. Every time.

Everyone has a style.
Earl Weaver, famous baseball manager, is associated with the game style philosophy of "Pitching, Defense, and the Three Run Homer". On the other hand Whitey Herzog won a World Series without a real power hitter (sorry Keith Hernandez fans) playing nothing but small ball. The point is, there are more ways to win than there are stars in the sky. Just like life. Some people toil and chip away and work every day of their life. Hitting singles and doubles and taking their walks and stolen bases. This works for them...they end up with a lot of successes based on small movements. Other people build up for the big score (the home run). They put all of their eggs in one basket and sometimes it works out, and when it does it's HUGE. Sometimes it doesn't, and they have nothing to fall back on.

The quote I listed at the top of this entry is from one of the best episodes of the first season of Scrubs... Dr. Cox has 27 patients on his watch, and he's trying to get through the whole night without one of them dying (likening it to a perfect game in baseball). He makes it to the very end of the shift... five minutes to go, and one does. Elliott, trying to help, wants him to just wait 5 minutes before calling the death, and he shoots her down using the beautiful words above.

For me, it more than anything, perfectly sums up why I love baseball, and why baseball and life are one and the same.

You always, in life as well as baseball, aim for the absolute top. Batting .400... Pitching a perfect game...Whatever personal achievement that equates in your life. And rarely will you achieve those goals. Only one guy in the last 70 years has hit .400. Only 17 perfect games have been thrown in Major League history. If you measure success in such black and white terms... "I'm only a success if I can purchase my own jet." You're going to be pretty miserable. However, if you can look at the little successes.... Turning a beautiful double play or lining a double into the gap. Throwing a one hitter.... Those are small things that contain trememdous beauty. If you can savor the minor successes, you're going to be happy. Life will be fair and balanced. Maybe not always good, but fair.

Now Pitching...

Hey Folks-

I'm a little bummed that I didn't get to my sports blog this week, though I admit I have no idea what I would have written about. My show has me getting home pretty late and I can't really blog from work (which... you know... is a reasonable expectation on their part.) In any case, I figure that since I've got a couple of hours this morning, I'd come up with something fun on the fly. Or at least fun for me.

Today we're gonna do the Disney Character Sports Round-Up. This idea has been jostling around in my head for a while, though it really stems from one thing, which I'll get to later. The general idea is that I'll be taking certain Disney characters and deciding what sport they'd be best at.

Let's get underway...
Cruella de Vil, NASCAR. Yeah, yeah.... I know that I dogged Cruella (haha) pretty badly in the Villains tournament, but I think she'd be a great stock car driver. She's insane. She's aggressive. and most importantly, she's the most reckless driver in the Disney Universe. C'mon... look at that car! She'd make Tony Stewart pee her pants.


Nemo, Water Polo (Special Olympics...you know...cause of the fin.) Yes, an easy joke. Sue me. In any case, Nemo obviously is a great swimmer, because of the whole being-a-fish bit, but I was most impressed with his "ball control" with that pebble that he shot into the filter. If that's not a Croatian-level Water Polo move, I don't know what is.


Aladdin and Jasmine (Pole Vault). Doesn't it seem like in a lot of those small countries that are represented in the Olympics that there are like... 2 team members and they play the same sport and they're married to eachother? Well... maybe not A LOT, but I've seen it. That's how I picture this... somehow this tiny (but wealthy) country from the Middle East has 2 world class pole vaulters, and they happen to be a happy couple. Jasmine is a medal threat, but Aladdin would also do his country proud.

Stitch, MMA. It was tempting to give make Stitch a surfer, but that seemed too obvious. Here's my argument for Stitch as the World's Greatest MMA fighter. First, he's a total badass in general, so it makes sense. Second, he'd be the first small fighter to ever shirk the notion of weight classes. He'd kick Kimbo Slice's ass just as easily as he would some tiny dude using the Brazillian Jiu Jitsu. Third, I think he's got this whole "Lulled into a false sense of security thing going" due to his crazy adorableness. It's impossible to see that he's a killing machine. Fourth, he's so freakin hilarious. It's probably the only thing that'll get me into MMA after the whole burst cauliflower ear fiasco. That was disturbing.


Hercules, Decathalon. Okay, it's probably cheating to assign anything to Hercules due to his being a part-god and whatnot, but I don't care. It fits too well... The guy is Greek (like the decathalon!) and he can do whatever. He's got strength, speed, excellent hand-eye coordination. It's the perfect event for him. He'd set the world record for sure. Not that anyone can follow that insane scoring system. He even demonstrates most of the things within the movie. (Plus, it gives me an excuse to post one of my favorite screen shots.)


Tarzan, Gymnastics. Can you imagine the upper body strength needed to swing around on those vines all the damned time? I figure it's pretty similar to the strength needed to perform a solid still-rings routine. He also seems kind of idiosyncratic like a lot of those gymnasts. A little flaky. I am sure that in Tarzan's case, that mostly has to do with the whole "raised by gorillas" thing and the occasional "fight a leopard with his bare hands" thing. I wonder what Rav Bhavsar's excuse is.


Captain Hook, Baseball. I'm telling you right now... I have no reason for this other than the fact that "Captain Hook" would be the coolest nickname for a curveball pitcher ever conceived. This is actually the entire impetus for this blog entry. I started thinking about what characters would play different baseball positions, and it just seemed so natural that Captain Hook would be a dominant curveballer. In fact, if Barry Zito had a cool nickname like Captain Hook as opposed to Reefer Face or Ganja Daddy or whatever it is that he's going by these days, I bet he'd be a lot better these days. A name like that bolsters a guy. So I'm convinced that had baseball been around during Captain Hook's day, he'd have made sure he knew how to drop the hammer. (By hammer I mean "His curveball.") Alternate sport: Bowling. Same reason.

Wait 'til Next Year

Hey Folks-
Welcome to "Thporths Thurthdayths"

I'm really not sure how to out and say this, so I'll just do it....

I hate Adam Dunn.

I know it's irrational, but I hate him. I think he's overrated. He's lazy. He's attrocious in the field. The worst base runner on the Reds. A clubhouse cancer. Oh.. I know he's loved by teammates, but he's also the worst possible role model for any young, promising player. Just ask his best friend Austin Kearns.

I know he's productive (mostly) at the plate. I know he walks a lot and scores runs. I get that. I don't care.

We're free. The great city-wide nightmare is over. And now... much as the citizens of San Francisco had to figure out how to rebuild after the earthquake, we as a city, as a baseball team have to figure out how to rebuild after Adam. For once, though, we have reason for hope.

Well, I am but a humble fan, but here are my suggestions...

-- As of Sunday evening, when the season ends, there are no guaranteed jobs for next year. None. I'm sure that Bronson Arroyo has a gig to get to somewhere in his beloved Boston, but he's gonna have to show up next Spring pitching like he has for the past 2 months. He's clearly a capable pitcher, but I question his desire to be here, and I don't want that on my team. Players should want to be here. Should TRY every time they go on the field. They have to know they're ALL replaceable.

What did playing the old, comfortable stand-bys get us? ZERO winning seasons since 2000. Ken Griffey Jr. is one of the greatest players ever, and I do think that it means something that he took less money to play here... well...that favor didn't matter once he stopped being a contributer (about... well... was he ever really?) Adam Dunn? Same thing... I have always driven Alan crazy about Dunn, because he insists that he's exactly what should be expected of him. That's fine and well and great, but I really think there's something about him that is a vacuum of desire. I recall, a couple of years ago, when Homer Bailey was still in low A ball, and Alan said he worried about Bailey because Homer said he'd rather go fishing than play baseball. I used to disagree that this was a problem. “A job is a job” I said. If you did your job, who cares if it's your passion... Well... I was wrong. Baseball is a mental game. Just ask Ted Williams. When a pitcher who doesn't care faces a batter who wants nothing more on Earth than to crack one up the middle... who's got a better chance in this game of millimeters? More than every strikeout drove me insane. More than every botched fly ball made me irate... The thing I hated most about Adam Dunn was that he knew he was safe and had a job every day no matter how he played, and he played just like that.

-- Jay Bruce, Joey Votto, Edinson Volquez, Johnny Cueto, Phillips... These guys are the future. Let them play evey day. Let them work out their kinks. Let them go through their growing pains. Let them bond through their shared traumas. Look at the Tampa Bay Rays. They lost 96 games last year, but they sent the same young team out there every day to take their lumps. This year, they're playoff bound. They're exciting. The 2003 Marlins were the same way. The 2002 Angels.

The best Reds team of the past 10 years was exactly the type of mix I'm looking for... A lot of young, hungry guys with talent (Aaron Boone, Sean Casey, Pokey Reese, Mike Cameron) mixed with a few strong veteran leaders (Barry Larkin, Greg Vaughn). I'm convinced that it's the only mix that can work for a team with a limited budget. The Yankees can afford to pick off all star players from other teams. The Mets will make at least one big free agent signing every year. The Reds can't. They need a little creativity, and I honestly believe that now that Griffey and Dunn are gone we've got a chance to see what can happen.

-- They may not be able to do it every year, but the Reds do need to get one big, really good free agent. If I had my way, it'd be either a shortstop or a third baseman. Sadly, it looks like both positions are pretty light this year coming up. The only guys I'd consider picking up at either position are David Eckstein (The lead-off guy we need) or Casey Blake... not really an improvement over Edwin (though... ideally, Edwin moves to first.) The other position we need is starting pitcher. I don't think the Reds have enough clout to pull a #1, but maaayyybe Ben Sheets could be affordable because of his injury history. I know it's a risk. Sabathia is out. Maybe bring back Dempster. I dunno...

The point is... the fans need a reason to be fired up from the start. The energy is always electric for opening day, but there's often a let down afterward, because...well... what's the point if there's no one new? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. So... give us something new to look for.

Here's my ideal starting Lineup for opening day 2009

1) CF- Chris Dickerson. I like him. He's not going to be as great as he's been since they brought him up, but he's the fastest guy on the team. He doesn't swing at the first pitch. He gets on base. The closest thing we may have to a lead-off guy...at least for now.

2) 2B- Jerry Hairston Jr.. I'm not convinced that he's durable enough to be here permanently, but he's proven to be a spark plug for this team. He gives effort like Ryan Freel. Unlike Ryan Freel, he's got actual ability to back it up.

3) RF- Jay Bruce. The guy is the logical choice for the glamor spot in the order. He's the new star.

4) 1B- Edwin Encarnacion. Has 35 homer power. Has never consistently had men on base in front of him. I am convinced that he's the biggest head case on the team, and by moving him to first will greatly reduce that inevitable connection between his mental errors in the field psyching him out at the plate.

5) LF- Joey Votto. Yep. I moved Joey to left. In this spot in the order he protects Edwin. He hits for average. He's got experience playing the outfield from the minors. He's quickly becoming my favorite Red.

6) SS- Brandon Phillips. He's bound to have some struggles at the plate as he adjusts to playing shortstop again. That's okay... He's going to win his first Gold Glove at 2nd this year. It'll look great next to his 5 or so from Short that he'll have when he retires. Plus, with Joey Votto and Edwin hitting doubles left and right in front of him, Phillips may not try to do as much as he does hitting in the 4 spot. He can be a consistent 25/30 guy.

7) 3B- Casey Blake? A good fit for this team's new profile, and maybe the best 7 hitter in the NL.

8) C- Ryan Hannigan. A space-filler for 2 more years while Devin Meseoraco works his way up. I'm okay with that. I like Hannigan well enough.

9) SP: Edinson Volquez. Don't get me wrong, I like Aaron Harang, and I don't think his issues this year have all been his. He's consistently the most tough-luck pitcher on the team. Still..he's getting older and Volquez has earned his stature as the number one. I'm all for giving him the ball on opening day.

So... hopefully things this past month have been a harbinger and not a mirage. I like the Reds right now. I'll always love them, but it's been a while since I've liked them. Even Dusty isn't bugging me right now.

Wait til next year.

Hide and Seek Adventures

Hey Folks-


Welcome to Trekkin' Tuesday, the day where I talk about traveling and travel. For my intial entry, I thought I'd discuss my favorite Out-of-the-Way locations I've encountered in my own personal travelogue.

There are different reasons I like different places, and certainly this is a pretty personal thing...you know? Like...for me, a guy who best loves 2 of the most "in-the-way" places imaginable (Orlando and Las Vegas), there's a whole other draw to these places. Character, kitsch, charm, history, attraction... So anyway, in no particular order, some places that I highly recommend visiting at some point.

Cooperstown, NY.

Now, I never said they were unknown. Just less traversed locations. Cooperstown is one of my favorites for a lot of reasons. First, I love baseball...and it's the home of the National Baseball Hall of Fame. I've visited Cooperstown twice, both during their busiest week (Hall of Fame induction weekend), and while it was crowded, I still loved it. For any sports fan, this place has to be on the list. That said, there's a lot of other things to recommend the place... there are all of these little art stores and book stores (where I bought these 3 great antique maps!) and the town actually restricts the building of chain stores and restaurants. It's impossible to get a Big Mac, (even the ball player!) but you can get a hand made plate of barbeque. It's on a lake. It's in Northern New York, which is a beautiful location (near the finger lakes). Just go.

St. Augustine, FL.

Okay, so again... not an unknown place, but there aren't a lot of folks making vacation plans to go there either. St. Aug is one of those "Day Trip" places where you go when you're visiting family in Jacksonville or Savannah. That's a shame, because the place is really effing cool. First, it's the oldest city in the United States. The history is evident in almost every building. There are drawbridges. There are castles. It's an old Spanish settlement and the evidence of that history is everywhere. It's also considered to be one of the most haunted cities in the U.S., so if that's something that you dig, I highly recommend it. Oh...and there are some pretty amazing beaches.

Wall, SD

There's really only one reason to visit Wall, South Dakota, but OH What a reason. Wall Drug. It's hard to express what that is, and that's mostly because it is everything and nothing all at once. It's a town with a drug store. A drug store that has mechanical cowboy bands, and life-sized T-Rex replicas, and free ice water. Well...that's how it all started. When the highway was begun, there wasn't much out there. An industrious drug-store owner put a sign up on the dusty road that the Wall Drugstore was giving away free ice water during the long Summer months, people started to stop where they hadn't before. Now, the place takes up a whole city block (or two) and defies description. In fact that's part of it's charm and mystery. You have to just see it for yourself.

Yellow Springs, OH
(Graffiti in Yellow Springs)

There are hippy, art communities all over, but perhaps none as so hippy as Yellow Springs, Ohio. The place is the home of Antioch College...also known as the place that instituted the "Verbal Consent" rule.
"Hello... I'd like to hold your hand." "I consent to the hand holding."
"I'd like to rub your thigh." "I do not consent to the thigh rubbing."
If you're in the market for any of the following, you should plan a visit to Yellow Springs.
-- A "tobacco" bong.
-- A cool Native American themed tattoo.
-- A vintage pulp novel.
-- A great slice of pizza.
-- A walk in a beautiful, little-known state park.
I dig Yellow Springs. It's cool.

Colorado Springs, CO
(A panorama I made of pictures I took from the top of Pike's Peak)

I'd actually probably just say "The towns that are NOT Denver, but are within 2 hours drive FROM Denver", but that's not a particularly catchy place name. I love Parker (and it's proximity to my fam). I love Boulder (and the Leanin' Tree museum and Celestial Seasonings Factory and the University of Colorado). I love Colorado Springs (and Garden of the Gods and Pike's Peak and the big Air Force chapel.). There're are tons of amazing things to see there. Beauty and art and nature and good Mexican food (who knew?). I could spend a whole post on how great my Colorado experiences have been, and maybe I will. All I can say is... The place is gorgeous and you understand why people went that direction from Kansas. Seriously... Kansas is boring.

Are Ya Scared?

Hey Folks-

No, the title doesn't refer to the very real possibility that Sarah Palin will be our next Vice President . (Though, it easily could refer to that very real possibility. Frankly, it's a little too real for me.)

No no... instead, I'd like to talk sports.

Yesterday, I was watching the very enjoyable "Rocky Balboa" and I came in right before the training sequence (awesome) and I watched through the end. I actually thought that the movie was great, except I was a little bummed at the final fight. I DID like the outcome, but I thought the fight was almost too realistic. I want Drago. I want Clubber Lang.

It was during this fight sequence that I noted that Rocky and Mason "The Line" Dixon were both wearing black gloves. I kept thinking about the gloves. So much so, in fact, that I came up with a blog entry related to the color of boxing gloves.

Without further ado, I bring you:

Dan's Top 5 Sports Intimidation Techniques (Both real and fictional)

Honorable Mention A):
This one doesn't get into the top 5, because of 2 reasons... 1) It's only happened once that I am aware of. 2) It's more likely to intimidate your own teammate as opposed to the opponent. In any case, there's a story of the time Red's Hall of Fame Catcher Johnny Bench was catching a younger pitcher. Bench was calling for a breaking ball, and the pitcher shook him off wanting to throw a fastball. Bench basically tells the guy his fastball is sucking, so he should stick with the breaking ball... The pitcher insists and throws the fastball anyway. Bench CATCHES IT WITH HIS BARE HAND. I'm sorry...but that is awesome. I think if that could be verified with an actual video or original story, it would definitely make the list, even though he showed up his teammate. I LOVE that story.

Honorable Mention B)
This one makes it on if I wasn't so entertained by #4 on my list, thus allowing fictional circumstances. Anyway, Ronnie Lott was so tough. So crazy about getting back on the field, that when he dislocated his pinky finger he elected to have it CUT OFF instead of missing any action. Seriously...the guy decided to just amputate his pinky finger after it was crushed in order to avoid injuring it any more, but still get on the field faster. I love that.


5) The coolest way to wear white after Labor Day. Why does the color of boxing gloves matter? (you ask) Well... because when you're wearing white boxing gloves, your opponent can see their own blood. I don't know about you, but if I'm in a fight, the last thing I wanna know about is how much I'm bleeding.

4) A day at the beach. FICTIONAL. Okay, so I've never seen this happen, nor do I think it ever would, but wouldn't it have been effing sweet if Michael Phelps had shown up to his first race of the Olympics with a full, bushy beard and wearing baggy surfing shorts. How would you feel as an opponent of his when you've just spent the last 3 hours shaving off all of your body hair and squeezing yourself into a skin-tight suit and Phelps shows up looking like a beach comber. Like... He may as well be swimming in a sweatshirt.

3) Chair? What chair mother fucker? Another boxing one (Courtesy of Alan)... Picture 2 boxers in a 12 round championship fight. The 10th round just ended. It's been a battle. Too close to call on the cards. You're spent. You head back to your corner and you slump onto the stool and let your corner men do their work. As your trainer is yelling out instructions, you find yourself glancing over to your opponent, hoping to see him bleeding. Instead, you see that he's standing 3 feet away from his corner. Arms crossed. Waiting for your pussy-ass to get up and fight him some more. What's that tapping? Nails in your coffin.

2) Get that shit outta here. I love this one, and it's only not #1 on the list because it's so much better in person than it is on TV. It lacks the universal quality the others have, but otherwise, it's really intimidating. There is nothing...NOTHING like a really emphatic blocked shot in basketball. So many awesome variations of it... The "Pin the ball on the backboard". The "Catch the ball out of the air". The "intentional goaltend where the guy comes up THROUGH the rim". The "point guard stuffing a power forward". The "swat into the second row and then scream like an insane person". Just awesome, and if done early in the game, it can really be a pretty great way to get the momentum.

1) Um...you have ice on your face. This one is legendary. I've heard of this happening a few times, but I think quite possibly the most famous example of it is a Bengals example...and thus is my favorite. In January 1982 the Bengals played the Chargers in Cincinnati in the AFC Championship game. The temperature? -59 degrees. I don't know if you know that, but that is fucking cold. Just so we're clear... if you CAN spit in that temperature, it would freeze before it hit the ground. Of course, your body dehydrates at something like 17 times the normal rate, so you can't spit. Or sweat. In any case, the Bengals offensive lineman came out and played the entire game (thank you Alan and Wikipedia for verifying the specifics) without wearing sleeves. They were so crazy and so tough that were all "Screw frostbite. I wanna scare some Chargers." And it worked. Sadly, they played the 49ers indoors the next Sunday, or maybe the entire future of the Bengals would have been changed. Still... No sleeves or "warm weather clothing" in general in super cold weather is hardcore. People still talk about that 27 years later.

JFK Airport; Where Hope Goes to Die

A few thoughts on my excursion to New York City on Saturday...

1) As much as I dislike the Yankees, I really have to hand it to their fans... It was a good, solid 90 degrees on Saturday, and Yankee Stadium was fucking PACKED. Most people wore Yankee gear (or Anti-Red Sox gear) and they were into every pitch. Even from where we sat (not close by any stretch), the fans were tuned in. I have to admire that, especially when compared with the mostly well informed, but entirely too passive fans of Cincinnati.

2) I know that it's not exactly a revelation, but every time I'm in a big city like New York or Chicago, I'm struck by how ethnically diverse they are. I mean... There was one point on the subway (we spent a lot of time on the subway) where I looked around the train and thought "Wow.. there are more ethnicities represented on this one train than would be represented in a week of walking around downtown Cincinnati." There's something very appealing about the experience of walking down the street and smelling shish-kabob and hearing the pan flute. Or Falafels and Maracas. (That's a good name for an improv troupe... "Falafels and Maracas". )

3) There is really nothing like sitting in Yankee Stadium (now that I've been there, I'm even more bummed they're getting rid of it) and sipping on a cold beverage and eating a Nathan's Hot Dog. True, my cold beverage was a diet coke (in a souvenir cup that eventually became the most annoying souvenier ever) and my "eating a Nathan's Hot Dog" was really just two bites of the one by dad bought. Still... Best Hot Dog I've ever eaten.

4) WHY? Why in the world do those people need more money badly enough to tear down a stadium so full of history? Babe Ruth played right field there (right in front of where I sat.) Lou Gehrig gave his speech there. The Pope said mass there (actually... THREE Popes). Roger Maris. Louis vs. Schmeling. Just kinda bums me out.

5) Finally... JFK International Airport. God damn this place. So many things that could be said, but I'll just say this... There should never be that many pissed off people in one place at one time. Not ever. I honestly felt like Harry Potter dealing with the dementors, where he says that he felt like he'd never be happy again. There was a point where there were 9 flights all scheduled to board from the same tiny gate. All 9 flights were delayed at least 2 hours. No one from Delta was saying a word. There had to have been 300-400 people sitting/standing/near-rioting at this one gate, and I was so edgy that I felt like I could lose it at any minute. You couldn't hear ANYTHING. The display boards were completely useless as they still listed a flight that had departed an hour before as "Boarding" and none of the other 9 flights were listed at all. It was absolute fucking chaos. Anarchy was moments from breaking out. It reminded me of that scene in the bad Tom Cruise remake of War of the Worlds where every person in New York is trying to leave the city via the same tiny road.

6) Once on the flight, I sat next to a very friendly girl. At some point during the 45 minutes our plane sat on the tarmac with the engines off, waiting for the TWENTY planes ahead of us in line to take off, she pulled out a bottle of Dr. Pepper and opened it. I was then sprayed full in the face, shirt, and pants with exploding Dr. Pepper. The only thing that redeems that from being just another miserable moment from the JFK Airport is that she was soaked even worse than me, and it sort of became a bonding experience. Certainly made for fun conversation the rest of the flight back to Indianapolis.

7) Oh yeah.. Indianapolis... I forgot to mention... So we get to the airport for our flight to Cincinnati, and we were looking pretty good on the standby list, as there were something like 4 people listed for the flight, and 87 seats were available. By some strange twist of fate, that plane had a "mechanical issue" and the entire flight was canceled. Color me shocked... a trip with a half-empty 757 was canceled due to "mechanical issues". I guess that's probably true if the "mechanical issue" was the "the plane can not mechanically function if the airline can't afford the fuel to fly it." So in any case, that added 4 hours to our time at the airport, and not only that, but because of the 100 or so inconvenienced PAYED passengers that needed to get to Cincinnati now that their flight was canceled, we couldn't get home. So we had to fly to Indy. Awesome.

Really though, it was an awesome time, and I'd do it again.