Joey Who?

Baseball is back!

I can’t count that 60 game joke of last year.

Now that reality has returned I have reposted a blog from 2017.

IT LOOKS LIKE SPRINGTIME IS FINALLY HERE. I see robins and cardinals and they don’t look worried about frostbite. There are giant Vs overhead going north and there are new baseball stars on the horizon.

Major League Baseball teams have been heavy into Spring Training for over a month and just like the new flowers that pop up in the spring so do new young players.

Looking Out Of The Window Until Spring

WHY DO I FEEL THAT THERE IS A GAP, AN EMPTY SPACE, IN THE WORLD? Oh, yeah, I know why – I’m in Ireland and the World Series is over. I didn’t watch any of it live on TV. It didn’t start until a little after 1 AM and I do need my beauty sleep.

This is the first time in my memory that I have not watched the World Series on TV. Regardless of the teams involved I have always made it “Must see TV” every September/October…and in a few cases dribbling over into November.

This year the two teams battling for the big ugly rings and big trophy were from Washington D.C. and Houston. I didn’t really care all that much who would emerge victorious, but I leaned ever so slightly in favor of Houston. Why? Because I had a couple of Houston players on my Fantasy Baseball team. That was the sum of my “fandom” this year.

I’m Not Eating That

I WENT OUT FOR DINNER LAST NIGHT. It was a birthday getogethers for a friend. He was turning 55 or something. It might have been 65, 105, 256…I wasn’t listening all that closely.

I remember my 55^th birthday. It was so long ago that I’m a bit hazy on the details, but I know that there were people there. I knew some of them. I’m pretty sure on that, but who they were exactly is a bit fuzzy. Some people took pictures. I’ve seen them so I know that I was there.

The place we gathered the other night was a local spot called “Charlie’s.” Nobody named Charlie has anything to do with the place – at least not for the last fifty years. Back in the day, as they say, Charlie’s was considered a real “Punch Palace” by the local police. It was a kind of “For your fighting and dancing pleasure” kind of joint. Half of the customers had cirrhosis of the liver and the other half had prison records.

I May Trade Away Myself

 

 

“It’s just getting too complicated.”

I say that every year and every year I agree to go through it all again.

What I’m talking about is taking part in a Fantasy Baseball League. I bet that designing and building my very own Nuclear Submarine made entirely of Dr. Pepper cans would be easier and less maddening.

There is no denying that I am a big Baseball fan, but I am rapidly morphing into a Non-Fan of Fantasy Baseball.

Throwback Thursday from March 2017 – Joey Who?

Joey Who?

IT LOOKS LIKE SPRINGTIME IS FINALLY HERE. I see robins and cardinals and they don’t look worried about frostbite. There are giant Vs overhead going north and there are new baseball stars on the horizon.

Major League Baseball teams have been heavy into Spring Training for over a month and just like the new flowers that pop up in the spring so do new young players.

OK, So I’m Whining.

 

WHINE, WHINE, WHINE.

Excuse me while I whine.

WHINE, WHINE, WHINE.

There! I feel better now.

What am I whining about? I’m whining because it’s January and I miss Baseball.

I miss the crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd, and their collective gasp as the ball arcs through the air into the Gap. Ahhh, the sensual glory of The Game.

The Sights, the Sounds, and the Smells are all a vital part of the Baseball experience. Without reveling in these basic sensations the game might as well be on television.

I Will Survive

 

 

I AM A CLOSET RED SOX FAN. Not really, but because they are going up against the Hated Dodgers in the World Series …It’s baked beans and cod fish for everybody!

This year was not a good year for my beloved San Francisco Giants. In fact it was an “Annus Horribilis” as Queen Elizabeth once put it. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. To top off the misery the dodgers made it to the World Series. I was in mourning for several days.

Is it Next Year Yet?

I HAVEN’T WRITTEN MUCH ABOUT BASEBALL THIS SUMMER. Why? Because it’s hard to keep from swearing while I have tears soaking the page.

It has not been a good season for my Giants. Things weren’t very good last year either, but with some sterling offseason acquisitions it looked like 2018 was going to have the Giants in the hunt for the Pennant once more. Appearances can be deceiving.

In The Soft Orange Glow

 

WHAT CAN I TELL YOU? I love rooting for my team. If the San Francisco Giants Baseball team is playing I’m going to be tuned in. My passion is like the fans of the FIFA World Cup and the way they feel about their teams – (Go Upper Volta!!). And if you think I’m a fan you should meet my wife. She makes me look like an Atheist in the Vatican.

My wife, the lovely and True Believer, Dawn, was not born a Giants fan. I infected her with Giants Fever. She has always been a Baseball fan. She grew up watching and listening with her Grandfather as he tuned to KMOX broadcasts of St. Louis Cardinal games. She recalls that he sat in a darkened room with the only light being the orange glow from his old console radio and the glow from the tip of his cigarette. His imagination brought him the play-by-play of the game as clearly as any HD television would today. Dawn was made into a fan like so many of us were – in our mind’s eye.

I Been Sick. Play Ball!

I HAVE BEEN SICK FOR THE LAST TEN DAYS with some low grade bug that has had me coughing like an out of tune Pontiac. I’m better today than I was last week and I am confident that I will be completely well by this coming Monday. Why so confident? Because that is when I have a scheduled Doctor appointment.

That’s just the way things work out. It’s like when your car is making that funny noise that hints at demonic possession. When you finally get it into the shop the engine is purring like a kitten.

In The Big Inning

IN THE OFFICIAL LITURGICAL CALENDAR the Sunday after Easter is called Bright Sunday, but in the Unofficial calendar it is known as “Holy Hilarity Sunday” when God’s sense of humor is celebrated. What better way to celebrate that and the new season of Major League Baseball than with the following creation.

Today’s blog is “The Opening Day Genesis” by Glenn Birkemeier published in “McSweeney’s Internet Tendency”

 

OPENING DAY GENESIS

GLENN BIRKEMEIER

Shoeless Joe Jackson

In the big inning, God created Heaven on Earth. And it was without form, and void. God separated the dirt from the grass. He called the grass Outfield and the dirt He called Infield. God made the Infield a 90-foot square and the Outfield not less than 400 feet to center and 320 feet down the lines. He declared this Fair Territory. All other territory, God then declared, was Foul.

And God divided the players into two teams of nine players each, under direction of a manager, to play The Game on His field. God called some of these players Pitchers and some of them Hitters. He placed a Pitcher precisely 60 feet 6 inches from a Hitter. Then God commanded that it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out at the ol’ Ballgame.

And God granted jurisdiction of The Game to lesser Gods, whom He called Umpires. God said the Umpires are infallible, blessed with Heavenly authority, whose judgment is not to be questioned under penalty of expulsion from The Game. And God looked at his creation and He was pleased. Then God created the Infield Fly Rule to confuse nonbelievers.

And God said, Let there be light beer, and there was. And, God said, let there be peanuts and hot dogs and overpriced souvenirs and let there be frosty chocolate malts with little wooden spoons that you can buy nowhere else except at this Heaven, which God called a Ballpark, and there was. God looked at His creation and it was good.

And the Lord God formed, from the dust, a collection of elite players in His own image. The Lord God then breathed the breath of life into His creation. God called this creation the National League.

And God said, It is not good for the National League to be alone. The Lord God shall make it a mate. And thus, while the National League slept, God took several of its top players and created the American League.

And God blessed The Game, saying, Be fruitful and multiply. Put teams in every city with deserving fans, God added, even if this occurs at the expense of starting-pitching depth.

From time to time, God understood, The Game would be corrupted by the Serpent. The Serpent was more cunning than any other beast and he would take many wicked forms: the Black Sox, segregation, the Designated Hitter, the Reserve Clause, dead balls, juiced balls, spit balls, corked bats, George Steinbrenner, AstroTurf, the 1981 strike, collusion, lockouts, Pete Rose, the 1994 strike, greenies, cocaine, HGH, Andro, steroids, $20 parking, corporate mallparks, Scott Boras, Donald Fehr, and Bud Selig.

Ty Cobb

But, God said, the goodness in The Game shall always prevail. As needed, the Lord shall bestow upon The Game a Savior. And the Savior, like the Serpent, can take many forms. The Savior shall remind Fans how blessed The Game truly is. The Savior shall be called by many names, including Cy, Matty, Honus, Big Train, the Babe, Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, Lou Gehrig, Branch Rickey, Jackie Robinson, Buck O’Neil, Hank Greenberg, Red Barber, Harry Carey, Vin Scully, Jack Buck, Satchel Paige, Bill Veeck, Roberto Clemente, Ernie Banks, Hammerin’ Hank, Cool Papa, Dizzy, Lefty, Whitey, Stan the Man, Big Klu, the Say Hey Kid, Campy, Duke, the Mick, the Splendid Splinter, the Gas House Gang, the Big Red Machine, the Damn Yankees, Pudge Fisk, Pudge Rodriguez, Yaz, Pops, the Wizard of Oz, Fernando, George Brett, Moonlight Graham, Roy Hobbs, Wild Thing Vaughn, Bingo Long, the Ryan Express, Donnie Baseball, Rickey, Eck, the Big Unit, the Cactus League, Cal Ripken, Tony Gwynn, Camden Yards, Rotisserie Drafts, Web Gems, Derek Jeter, Dontrelle Willis, Vlad Guerrero, and, from the Far East, Ichiro. And, God guaranteed, there are many more to come.

God looked upon His creation and He was very pleased. And God spoke, yelling,PLAY BALL!

A Season Of Hope

 

ONE OF MY GREAT JOYS IN LIFE, aside from my wonderful wife, Dawn, Family, and Coffee, is Baseball. We are now into the 2018 Season and, of course, I am rooting for my team – The San Francisco Giants.

Last year the Giants sucked like an overworked Hoover vacuum. This year we are hoping that they will do better. In 2017 my boys lost 98 games. The season is 162 games and you aren’t going to get into the postseason playoffs winning only 64 games – not unless you buy a ticket like everybody else.

I Can Almost Hear It Now

I KNOW…I KNOW. WE ARE STILL IN WINTER. There is snow on the ground and the first Robin of Spring is still frozen solid, but I just gotta talk about Baseball.

Spring Training is underway as players descend on Florida and Arizona to get into condition and to fight for their jobs against up and coming youngsters and newly acquired veterans holding on for dear life.

Thus has it ever been in the world of Baseball.

Veeck (As In Wreck)

THERE ARE INVENTORS, CREATORS, AND INNOVATORS and then there was Bill Veeck.

If you are a baseball fan, a REAL baseball fan, you already know about Bill Veeck. Even if you are just a casual fan of The Game you are aware of his influence of the game.

The ivy on the walls of Chicago’s Wrigley Field? Thank Bill Veeck. That was his idea. He was always coming up with something. Honestly however, not all of his ideas were successful or appreciated.

Veeck would tell the story that in the early 1940s, when he was part owner of the minor league Milwaukee Brewers; he installed a portable screen that raised the height of the outfield wall. When the opposing team was at bat the screen would go up – and it was lowered when the Brewers were at bat. That lasted all of one day before the league banned it.

It Does Rain In California

FROM HAVING WORKED IN NIGHTCLUBS AND THEATERS all those years I became a real Night Person. It was not at all unusual for me to be out and about at 3 AM after the clubs had closed for the night.

With the Adrenaline still pumping it just wasn’t possible to go straight home and hit the hay. A bunch of us would stop at some all-night cafe for a bite and to talk shop.

That was then, this is now.

I can’t do that anymore. Both my mind and my body want to shut down long before those late hours.

Waking Up From A Dream

I REALLY HAVEN’T WRITTEN MUCH ABOUT MY SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS LATELY. There is a good reason – they are not having a good year. No, it’s worse than that – they are stinking up the joint.

For the first time since the 1980s they have a chance to lose 100 games this season. That hurts.

I remember going out to games at the old Candlestick Park and watching them lose day after day. It was not easy to be a witness to that. Since then they have had some glorious years – winning three World Series rings in a three year period. But that was then and this is now.

Take Me Out To The Shrine

HERE WE ARE ENJOYING THE MAY FLOWERS that have bloomed thanks to the April showers. The grass is green and, oh, yeah, the Baseball season is in full swing.

Now that The Boys of Summer have a few weeks under their belts and rosters are solidifying. It is time to erect “The Shrine” at Casa Nuestra.

Each season we are able to acquire some of the team “giveaways” that make the shrine just a giftshop away from being a real roadside attraction.

Maz, The Mick, And Me

IT IS APPROXIMATELY 4 ½ MONTHS BEFORE BASEBALL SEASON BEGINS AGAIN. Until then the skies will be overcast, the winds will blow cold and nothing in the Universe will be quite right.

But, don’t think that I miss it all that much.

Ode To Joy

“Ode To Joy”

A week or so ago we all had the pleasure of seeing something truly rare – an explosion of pure Joy. We witnessed thousands of people wrapped in the arms of a Happiness that comes rarely in one’s lifetime. This moment was seeing the people of Chicago celebrating the victory of their Cubs, winning the National League Championship for the first time in 71 years.

“You’re Killing Me, Smalls”

AS HAS BEEN STATED HERE MANY TIMES BEFORE – I AM A SERIOUS BASEBALL FAN. To my fevered brain it is not just a game – it is THE GAME. And I’m not alone in that feeling.

I know a man whose love of the game makes me look like a casual observer. Let’s call him “Ron,” mainly because that’s his name.