One More Dying Quail

The Conversation

2011-12-16T23:17:00.001-05:00

I was walking into a store this morning when I passed a presumably attractive young woman as she was getting out of her car. I say presumably because although a quick glance was cast in her direction, I most certainly did not check her out*, because I am a married man who does not subscribe to that sort of lecherous behavior**.

*Also, because I had switched out my sunglasses for my regular glasses before exiting the car, and it was so bright out that I couldn’t see much of anything anyway. The truth sounds considerably less noble, doesn’t it?

**When I typed “behavior” the first time, I accidentally spelled it with a “u”: behaviour. I felt quite British, and to be honest, a little dangerous, for a moment there.

After that cursory glance, I continued on my way to the crosswalk, which I hate because it’s like nine miles long. You can start running across when the coast is clear and still get hit by a car before reaching the other side. I wish I could just get in my car and drive from one side to the other, but I can’t because then I would have to park the car on the sidewalk, and with my luck, there’d be a ticket when I got back even though I was just running inside for five freakin’ minutes.

But I digress.

I was about halfway across the crosswalk, about to stop off for a drink of water and maybe a snack before continuing my hike, when all of a sudden, the presumably attractive young woman began speaking to me*.

*I’m pretty sure she didn’t have one of those Bluetooths in her ear. I hate those things. They’re evil. Although the presence of one here would certainly make this story better.

“It’s SO WINDY OUT,” she said. “I HATE when it’s windy out.”

As anyone who knows me can imagine, this took several seconds to process. My conversation skills are bad enough when I’m expecting someone to speak to me; a presumably attractive young woman attacking me verbally from behind with small talk was just unfair.

Once those several seconds had passed, I decided to add to the impromptu conversation by saying the first thing that came to mind.

“Yeah.”

In retrospect, the look on her windblown-hair-surrounded face was priceless, a combination of “Is that it?” and “How exactly do you expect me to respond to that?” She regrouped fairly quickly though, smiled, and proceeded to her destination without another word. And after a few minutes of kicking myself for my brain freeze, I realized something: I still had a wife to go home to, someone who knows and appreciates my inability to carry on a conversation consisting of more than three turns with any degree of consistency. So I’ve got that going for me.*

But clearly, if she ever kicks me to the curb (or, as I like to say, when), I’m in trouble.

*Of course, this is the same woman who just told me that instead of buying a Christmas tree this year, we should just bring up the small artificial tree and “spray some Pine-Sol.” The lesson, as always, kids, is this: be careful who you meet on the internet.

The Beer

2011-11-18T22:48:00.001-05:00

I was standing in Papa Gino’s tonight, waiting for one of the gentlemen I was with to finish up his conversation so we could leave, when an attractive blonde twenty-something caught my attention.

“Are you in line, sir?” she asked innocently. I told her I was not and she moved along, ordering her pizza or sub or whatever while it slowly dawned on me what had just happened: she called me SIR. There are people that I encounter in my life that I call SIR. These people are generally much older than I am. Ergo, she thinks I am old.

There’s no way of knowing with any certainty, but I’d like to think that at that very moment, my mood went from, “Well, this has been a shitty couple of days,” to, “Well, this has been a shitty couple of days. I need beer.”

The funny thing about this is that I don’t even really like beer all that much, and drinking it at home, where I inevitably make it through one or two before tiring of the taste and moving on to more exotic beverages like milk and flavored water, is highly unlikely to result in me becoming drunk enough to forget the reasons I bought it in the first place. (That might be the longest sentence I’ve ever composed.) Maybe it’s just that sometimes, just BUYING beer is enough to make it feel as though I’m addressing the problem in an unhealthy manner, which is really all that matters.

So after a couple stops on the way home (including one AT home, to use the facilities; the store is only a mile away so it’s worth the additional comfort), I rolled into Stop & Shop and headed for the beer aisle. (How much beer do I not drink? I’ve been going to this store for at least three years. I think I had been in the beer aisle once.)

After some consideration of the more exotic offerings – oooooh, Natural Ice? It must be organic! – I decided not to buy anything that sounded interesting for fear it wouldn’t quite hit the spot and leave me out somewhere between eight and ten dollars. This was an alcohol purchase for the sake of feeling better about my problems, not for making me remember the consistent tenuousness of my financial situation. With that in mind, I ventured down to the far end of the aisle, to the domestic beers, where I could take the first steps toward proud ownership of a six-pack of Bud Light bottles.

The whole time I was doing this I was wondering if I would get carded at the register. Blondie thought I was old enough to be her grandpa, apparently, so it seemed like a good possibility. I considered it while picking up a bag of Fritos Scoops (can you believe the price of a bag of chips these days? $3.99 – and they were on sale?! Outrageous!), and considered it some more while picking up a container of Helluva Good Ranch dip.

As I approached the register, I decided to leave it to the cashier’s discretion. Pulling my debit card from my wallet and my Stop & Shop card from my pocket, I laid myself at her mercy. The following is a rough transcript of the conversation that ensued:

CASHIER: [scanning the beer] Can I just see your ID please?

ME: You flatter me. Somebody called me “sir” earlier and it made me feel old.

CASHIER: You were born the year I graduated college. You’ve got a lot of years left.

ME: God willing.

CASHIER: Don’t worry, it only gets worse.

ME: Oh, I know. And the days I remember that are the days I buy beer.

CASHIER: I go with the wine.

So I left the store, content in the knowledge that I’m not the only one being sucked down by the soulless vortex called life.

Sorry, I don’t know what that means. I’m on number two and starting to feel a little lightheaded. Almost time to switch to water.

The Curse

2011-11-14T21:11:00.002-05:00

For a long time, my son didn’t really talk. At his three-year checkup last summer, he was diagnosed with developmental and speech delays and referred to our local school district for evaluation and placement.

He began attending a twice-weekly preschool class in December, and after an initial adjustment period, his use and understanding of language has flourished. Just last week, we engaged in a spirited discussion about which television show he wanted to watch (the highlight was when he insisted on Scooby Doo, which forced me to put it on C-Span until he changed his tune), and at the grocery store over the weekend he told me we needed to buy cheese, peas, and musical jumping beans in order to make rocket soup. So there’s been some improvement in that area.

This is great on a number of levels, of course, but there is one major adjustment that has had to be made: the language my wife and I use. I’m not the most foul-mouthed person I know, but I do employ more than the occasional f-bomb…and a-hole…and s-bomb (that sounds stupid; why is there no good shorthand way to say that I say “shit”?). For the most part, we haven’t had to worry about little ears picking up the naughty words we say and a little mouth repeating them. Now, we do.

My wife and I were playing Words With Friends tonight, coming down the homestretch, while our son finished up his second viewing of Cars 2 and played with Lightning McQueen, Finn McMissile, and Mater on the living room floor (I think he’s actually working on the script for Cars 3). I had a pretty good lead until she played “pounced” across two Double Word spaces for a score of 69 and a 36 point advantage. I closed the gap to one, she surged ahead again with another solid total, and it appeared she had the game in hand.

Only, she didn’t. After I played an “it/at” combo by dropping a single “t” into a corner, just to pick up a couple points without substantially changing the board, she fired back with “eyes” for seven points. It was clear that she was just trying to clear her letters and seal the win, but in doing so, she put an “e” in perfect position between Triple Letter and Triple Word spaces. And, as luck would have it, I had a “j” (worth ten points) and the letters to make an actual word.

The result: “Jeer”, for 99 points and the game.

I hid a smile as she asked if I had played yet (we’re quite impatient with one another while playing a game when in the same room; it tends to turn into the Speed Version of Words With Friends) and awaited her reaction. It didn’t disappoint.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she said.

That was to be expected. She’s been swearing at me for almost twelve years now. Twelve glorious years. What I wasn’t really expecting was the four-year-old voice that chimed in from the peanut gallery.

“You pucking kidding me?” he said (the letter “f” still gives him some trouble). Then, as my wife and I looked at each other and struggled mightily to avoid bursting into laughter, he said it again. “You pucking kidding me?”

My wife tried to be the bad guy - “No, Mama shouldn’t have said that. That’s not something you say.” – but he was undaunted. “You pucking kidding me…you pucking kidding me…you pucking kidding me…?” Finally, I managed to swallow a laugh and repeat what my wife had said. He eyed me for a second, considering it, the words on the tip of his tongue, before deciding that this wasn’t a limit he wanted to test. His voice dropped into a low growl that he uses when he’s being funny.

“Okay.”

Crisis averted, this time. But clearly, we’re going to have to start working on our euphemisms.

The Abandoned House

2011-10-27T20:43:00.003-05:00

Down the street from my apartment, right next door to the Fred Fuller Gas & Propane Co. and within spitting distance of the new Chinese restaurant that used to be Elisha’s, is a house that I’ve often thought would make a great first home for my wife and son and I. It has obviously been vacant for quite some time, with knee-high grass in the front that was only recently cut down to nothing, and you can tell from the street that the building itself is a wreck inside and out, but it’s a nice enough place with a big side yard and a good location on the main drag. If nothing else, the place has potential.

It first caught my attention one day when I was walking by on the way to the store. I made a mental note of the address – the faded numbers above the front door appeared to say “140” – and looked it up when I got home.

While my original search turned up information on the street’s other abandoned house, a beautiful little place across the street that would be perfect if only it had a kitchen (like many houses in the area, it had apparently been converted to a business at some point, and businesses typically don’t require full kitchens; this really only becomes a problem when you then have to try passing the house off as a residence again), there was nothing on that mysterious little rundown building that intrigued me so. I didn’t pursue it; we were not, after all, in the market for a house. It was merely a bit of whimsy with which to distract myself from time to time.

About a week ago, I made a late evening trip down to Shaw’s to buy some fudge. I love fudge. After proceeding directly to the bakery and procuring a pound of the stuff, I decided to wander around the store for a few minutes to see if there was anything else I needed. As I passed the newspaper rack, a headline on the front page of The Cabinet caught my eye:

Brother of Milford homicide victim say it’s time family had answers*

*That’s the headline on the web version of the story. I don’t know that the print version was exactly the same, but I know it was similar.

I started to continue on my aimless travels before curiosity got the better of me and I stopped to read the beginning of the story about an unsolved murder in my cozy little town:

MILFORD – It’s been eight years since police found Paul Herlihy’s body in his Nashua Street home and eight years since an autopsy determined his death was a homicide.

No one has ever been charged in the crime, and no suspect, weapon or motive was ever identified. Authorities said the cause of death has been withheld for investigative reasons.

Now Bill Herlihy of Milton, Mass., says the family is tired of waiting for answers as to how and why his 51-year-old brother died in the summer of 2003.

Paul Herlihy, an antiques dealer and Massachusetts native, had been dead for several days when he was found inside 425 Nashua St. on Aug. 27, 2003, after a family member asked police to check his welfare. He had moved to Milford that winter, intending to open an antiques shop in the house.

Well then. My first thought was that my wife and I were engaged at the time Mr. Herlihy was killed, living just a couple miles away with her parents in Amherst, and I had absolutely no recollection of this incident. I’m quite observant.

My second thought was that this HAD to be the house down the street, the one I wanted to buy on the cheap and raise my family in.

In all the times I’ve walked and driven past this house, it never occurred to me to double check the address. The 140 was right there above the door, a bit faded by the elements but plain for anyone to see, and I never questioned the fact that it was way too far from the Oval, where I’m assuming the low numbers are, to actually be such a low number.

Confirmation was easy enough. Tuesday, I walked down to that Chinese place, Cherry Blossom, and checked the number on the house next door on the way. It was 433. A Google search for Fred Fuller Oil & Propane revealed that it is located at 419 Nashua St. So the location of this terrible murder was one of four places: a nice little home with a well-manicured yard; an oil and propane business; the hospital across the street; or the dilapidated white house that looks like it hasn’t been lived in for, oh, eight years. Hold on, I’m gonna puzzle over this for a while. I’ll get back to you when I figure something out.

After I realized that this was, indeed, the scene of the crime, I found myself wondering about its status, what will happen to it when the New Hampshire Cold Case Unit finally cracks the case.

“It’s still a decent little place,” I thought to myself. “I wouldn’t mind living there.”

Immediately after thinking this, of course, I slapped myself across the face. Hard. I’ve seen plenty of horror movies - it’s probably my favorite genre – and how many horror movies focus on THIS EXACT PREMISE? Violent crime occurs in a home, family moves into said home, weird shit starts happening, family flees in terror. The Amityville Horror, anyone? My wife loves Ryan Reynolds*. She would love nothing more than for me to BE Ryan Reynolds. But I’m pretty sure she does not want to me to be the Ryan Reynolds who makes the questionable decision to move his family into a haunted house.

*I don’t know how she feels about James Brolin.

Even after that, I found myself thinking, “This is just nonsense. Stuff like that only happens in the movies. Haunted houses aren’t real.” And I had to punch myself in the face again, because that is EXACTLY WHAT THE PROTAGONIST OF THESE MOVIES ALWAYS SAYS! “Haunted? Pfffffft. Please. I ain’t ‘fraid of no ghost.” Then a week later, the entire family has moved halfway across the country because they refuse to go back into that house.

No thank you. I think I’ll stick with my apartment for now.

The Soccer Goal

2011-10-22T14:05:00.000-05:00

For the past two months, my son has played on a U-6 soccer team in our local rec league. It’s his first foray into organized sports, and the results have been mixed. Sometimes he takes part in the entire practice, then refuses to play in the mini-game. Sometimes he does both. Sometimes he does neither. Sometimes he just wants to chase around the one little girl he holds in higher regard than all others.

(He’s so much like his daddy in this way that it’s frightening: he follows her around like a puppy and makes every effort to stand rightnext to her at all times, and she’s basically just like, “Okay, dude, leave me alone.” Get used to the reaction, kiddo, it’s how we roll.)

His attitude and ability are somewhere in the middle of the road. Our team has a couple kids who never show up, a couple who just kind of go out and chase the ball around (this is where my boy fits in, when he actually plays), a couple who don’t have immense natural talent but play hard and do well, and one who is the total package.

From the first practice, we could see how impressive this kid was. It’s not just natural ability – although GOOD LORD he can fly; more often than not, he simply outruns everyone else on the field – he obviously gets a ton of practice at home.

One thing he doesn’t do well is finish. Every week is the same story: our star player gets in the game, gets the ball, charges down the field, and shoots. Sometimes he makes it, sometimes he doesn’t. That’s not really a concern, of course – most five-year-olds don’t exactly possess deadly accuracy when it comes to putting the ball in the net (and these are small nets). And that’s generally what it is, an accuracy issue: he streaks down the field, kicks the hell out of the ball, it misses the net completely, goes out of bounds, and play stops.

Today, however, was a little different. At one point, he broke away like usual and fired a shot on goal. It didn’t go wide, though, and somehow ended up sitting right at the edge of the net. This was outside the normal routine, so nobody did anything. The kid who kicked the ball turned and headed back to defend the goal kick, as he usually would. One of the other kids started to do the same thing. The opposing team just kind of hung around, probably waiting for the coach/referee to grab the ball, even as parents and spectators on the sidelines shouted to all of them all at once to go get the ball.

And then something really awesome happened. Our third player (we generally play three-on-three, unless the opposing coach is feeling frisky and suggests adding a fourth), a little tiny peanut of a girl who almost never touches the ball, sprang into action. From about ten feet away, she ran as hard as she could to the ball, which was still chilling at the goal line, reared back, and blasted it into the back of the net.

That would have been great enough, but her reaction made it even better: she turned around, big smile on her face, and spread her arms wide in a gesture that could only be interpreted as, “Sup, bitches! How you like me now?” before sauntering back to the other end of the field (still smiling) and flashing her mother a thumbs-up. She knew she did good and she celebrated accordingly.

What made this so fun to watch was it's rarity. That star player who’s better and faster than everyone else? He’s gonna score lots and lots of goals before he’s done playing soccer. Sometime in the next couple years, he’ll learn to control the ball much better and before we know it, he’ll be punching holes in the back of the net on a regular basis. Watch him play and you know this to be true.

That little girl, though? I don’t know if she had touched the ball in a game all season. She certainly hadn’t scored a goal. She may never score another one. But today she got the chance and she did.

Bad Advice...Maybe

2011-03-29T21:14:00.003-05:00

Midway through my sophomore year of college, I sat in a professor’s office and listened to some of the strangest, if not the worst, advice that I have ever received.

I was a business major. Thirteen years have passed since that decision was made, and I’m still not entirely sure what made me think I would be a good businessman. It was probably a movie or something – we watched “The Godfather” in my Latin class either junior or senior year, so it’s entirely possible that my teenage brain saw that and thought, “Money, power, success – yes, yes, yes.” Good thing we didn’t watch “Scarface”.

Funny thing is, I think I picked a major before I picked a school. (To say this whole process was not well thought out would be a huge understatement.) When the time came for that, I operated with two considerations in mind: one, I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere “far away” (so said my older sister in response to a mailing I received from USC; she refused to bid adieu to her “comic relief”) and I wasn’t to let money stand in the way of my decision. My father was a firefighter, my parents by no means wealthy, but it was understood that if I wanted to go somewhere, they would make it work.

As has become the standard in my life, I procrastinated, and am fairly certain that the only school I ended up gracing with an application was Western New England College in Springfield, Massachusetts. WNEC was three hours from home (two if my brother was driving; he took it as a personal challenge to get me down there as quickly as possible) and within minutes of extended family: my godmother and her family lived in Springfield, and other cousins, aunts and uncles were in Windsor Locks and Enfield, Connecticut. Had I treated it as such, WNEC could have been like a second home.

It never worked out that way, mainly because I discovered that I’m not good at establishing and maintaining connections with people, even family members. I suspect that my godmother and her husband have always been slightly offended by the fact that I rarely sought them out during my time in Springfield, much like my in-laws are often unhappy that I appear to not want to spend “quality time” with them. Honestly, in both instances, it’s not them, it’s me. I just tend to be happy when I’m alone, probably because I wasn’t hugged enough as a child.

Still, the idea of home held a powerful allure - my family was still on the New Hampshire Seacoast (that shouldn’t be past tense – my family IS still on the New Hampshire Seacoast) and my closest friends still lived in the area and went to school at Plymouth State - so I decided to leave WNEC and transfer. The plan at first was to join Jason and Meredith at Plymouth, but that became complicated when I met my future wife just before the semester break my sophomore year. After much bumbling on my part, I decided that instead of transferring to Plymouth, I would be taking my talents to the University of New Hampshire (even that didn’t go smoothly – I originally transferred to UNH’s Manchester campus, then to the main campus in Durham). As part of the deal, I also planned on changing majors from General Business (code for, “I’m a business major but have no idea what I actually want to do”) to History. It eventually included a concentration in Religious Studies, though I wish I’d gone with something more relevant to my interest in sports, such as 20th century American history. But that part is neither here nor there.

All of this brought me to that professor’s office in...oh, it must’ve been in February 2000. The second semester of my sophomore year had just started and because I hadn’t actually finalized my plan to transfer (actually, this suggests that I actually had some semblance of a plan; my general modus operandi has always been, “Fail to plan, plan to…wait, what was I saying?”) when I chose my spring classes, and so I ended up with some 300-level business class that was required for business majors, but wasn’t a core class and wasn’t useful for my post-transfer major. It really didn’t matter at all for the future, so when I realized how much work was involved – we had to do, like, a BUSINESS PLAN and stuff - I arranged to speak with the professor during his office hours.

We sat in his office and I explained why I wanted to drop his class. He looked at me for a moment, then said, “You know, generally when someone gets two years into a degree program, we recommend that they see it through to the end.”

‘Scuse me? Not sure I caught that. Did you just say that even though I decided I don’t want to study business anymore, that even though it doesn’t hold the slightest interest for me, that even though I’ve come to the sudden and sad realization that I will never be an honest version of Michael Corleone, I should continue working toward a business degree just because I’ve already put in two years (most of which were core classes that people in any major had to take, incidentally)? Did I understand that right? Because that’s pretty much the worst advice anyone has ever given me. Here’s the drop form. I think you’re supposed to sign on this line right here.

I didn’t say that of course. I only thought it. But the sentiment still holds true a decade later. Sure, he was probably trying to say that once you get two years into something – anything, really – you want to think long and hard before you throw it away on a whim. Maybe he was just testing my resolve; in that case, I can dig it. Or maybe he was trying to keep the business school from losing its most promising student*; in that case, ‘twas a valiant attempt, Professor So-and-So. But not this time. The combined lure of history and New Hampshire were simply too great.

*My first semester GPA my sophomore year was 2.46, so this might not be true.

Of course, the rest of the story should be obvious. I transferred, took a semester off, changed my major, and graduated from UNH in 2 ½ years. In the eight years since, I have used my degree for…well…okay, not much. It’s helped me land a few jobs (including an internship at the Baseball Hall of Fame – one of the directors noticed Religious Studies on my resume and, having studied that in college herself, decided I was worth a phone interview) and probably made people think I’m somewhat smarter than I really am, when all it really does is show that common sense is not required to obtain a bachelor’s degree. So maybe that professor was right – I could’ve stuck with business, earned my degree a year earlier, and followed the exact same professional path (which is roughly equivalent to that “Bridge to Nowhere” up in Alaska, but I digress). Brilliant!

The Triple

2011-03-26T23:20:00.005-05:00

I hit four triples in eighteen games as a high school junior, a positively Wilsonian pace that may lead to the assumption that I was fast. This assumption would be false. While I suppose it could be said that I had something that, at times, vaguely resembled speed, the main reason for all those three-baggers was our home field. Unlike the varsity field, which was completely enclosed (though with relatively small dimensions that once led a visiting player to lament that he could have hit twenty homeruns a season if he played half his games there), the jay-vee field I played on as a junior had just a short section of chain-link fence located three hundred-plus feet from home plate in straightaway right field. Anything hit to the left of right-center became subject to playground rules: run as far as you can and hope they don’t throw you out. There was a lot more Hank Greenberg than Carl Crawford in my triples.

Swinging from the left side of the plate, I was a pull hitter, but not a dead-pull hitter; the majority of my blasts – and as the high school version of a Quad-A player, I hit a few that season – traveled to right-center, just missing the homerun fence and rolling near a set of practice football goalposts several hundred feet from home plate. Though I would have loved to stand there in the box and admire my handiwork, the act of ball striking bat was just the beginning. Once that happened, I still had to run hard out of the box, moving just as fast as my short little legs would carry me (as a sophomore, one of my teammates watched me run and christened me “Scooter” because my feet barely left the ground), and try to figure out how far I could make it. Often, the result was a double. But on four very special occasions, everything fell into place, and either my coach or myself thought that I could take three. We were always right: I was never thrown out at third.

Of those four triples, I can remember two with some clarity. The first was one that I’ve written about before; it came in the middle innings, broke up a no-hitter, ignited an eight-run rally, caused my father to say out loud that he was proud of me (the only time I remember that happening), and ranks as one of my finest athletic achievements. I have some pretty good reasons for remembering it as well and as fondly as I do.

The second triple, I remember for a somewhat different reason. That was the one where I almost inadvertently castrated the opposing third baseman.

The game situation, unfortunately, has been almost completely lost to memory. All I can recall is that we were playing Pinkerton Academy and I hit one deep to right-center. I want to say that we were way ahead at the time and I didn’t need to try for the extra base, but that might be wrong. Pinkerton was usually pretty good; it’s hard to imagine us beating up on them. I’m almost positive that my coach tried to hold me up at second; if that first thought holds true, that we had a big lead, this would make sense – he wasn’t the sort of coach who derived any great joy from humiliating an opponent. Whether I’m right or wrong, though, it’s likely that he threw up his hands in the international gesture for “Stop running now or you will likely be out” mainly because if I did not stop running there, I would likely be out. It makes sense, in retrospect.

Now, I’m pretty open about the fact that I am not a fast thinker. Give me a few minutes to let my brain relax and puzzle through a problem on its own, without outside interference or pressure, and I’ll often arrive at a logical conclusion. Ask me to do the same in a few seconds and my brain closes the blinds, locks the doors, and hands the keys to my instincts, which are no better than George Costanza’s.

As luck would have it, baseball requires some snap decisions. It had burned me more than once in the past, often on plays in the outfield (when the centerfielder would call me off a fly ball, I’d hear him shouting, but my brain wouldn’t clue my body in to the change of plans fast enough to react appropriately), but we were about to take it to a whole new level, my brain and I.

A year or so before, during offseason football workouts, I had run a forty-yard dash in five seconds flat. The distance between second and third base, of course, is ninety feet, or thirty yards. Using some sort of math something-or-other, I figured out that it should have taken me roughly 3.75 seconds to get from one base to the next, not counting the fact that I had a full head of steam rounding second, the wide turn around the bag, or the slide that would surely be necessary to get me safely into third. So let’s round it off and call it four seconds.

About halfway down the line – two seconds into this mess, two seconds to go – I realized that I would definitely have to slide. This is where my brain betrayed me by trying to think on the base paths. See, every time I had ever slid up to this point (and I had been playing baseball for almost ten years), I had gone in feet first. Every single time, in my entire life. There was no reason to think that this situation should be handled any differently. But as I approached third with my blazing speed, the junior senator from my cerebral cortex asked to be recognized, and was granted the floor.

“Hey, remember that old picture of Pete Rose diving headfirst into the base?” he said. “He was like three feet off the ground, hair flowing behind him, totally stretched out. That was fucking badass. We should try that.”

Various other sections of my brain began throwing stuff at the idiot who put this idea up for discussion. Precious seconds were lost as I leaned forward slightly, almost giving in to the idea before thinking better of it. It took just a split second to remember that I am not graceful and going headfirst would probably result in one of the ugliest plays in the history of the sport.

Unfortunately, I didn’t really have a split second to spare. That small consideration, to dive or not to dive, had already delayed me far too long, so that by the time I decided on the good old-fashioned feet-first maneuver, I was practically on top of the base.

The third baseman was just hangin’ around, chillaxin’, waiting there with the ball (which had arrived some time earlier; Coach was right, I should’ve held at second), when I came rolling in. Because I was so close to the bag when I started my slide, I was still sort of half-standing when I got there. And because he was standing pretty much on top of the bag when I arrived, just waiting to tag me and send us both on our way, my knee kinda-sorta scored a direct hit on his junk.

His reaction was about what you’d expect: he immediately dropped to the ground and writhed around in pain (he also dropped the ball, so I was safe) before reaching into his pants, pulling out his cup, and dropping it on the ground (okay, so I’m not sure I was fully expecting that last part). My coach came over to see if he was okay and told him to breathe – good advice in theory – while his coach ran onto the field, tracked down the umpire, and started complaining that my failure to slide constituted interference and I should be called out. So everyone clearly had his priorities in order.

Our trainer came down and checked the kid out, then parked him on the ground next to his bench with an ice pack. As luck would have it, I was playing first base and the visiting bench was along the first base line, so on my way onto the field at the start of the next inning, I stopped off to apologize and make sure he was okay. After the game, my brother and I caught the team bus before it left, with the intention of once again saying sorry – the way I look at it, you can never apologize too much for a nut-shot. The coach met us outside the door. I told him why I was there, and he started telling me again why I should’ve been called out. He might have been having trouble grasping what was really important in this situation.

In the end, I’m not sure what happened to that kid, though it’s probably worth noting that in the last game of my senior year, we played Pinkerton, and I hit a homerun that just barely cleared the fence on the varsity field. It was so close, in fact, that the rightfielder actually ran into the fence because he thought he had a play on the ball. I can’t decide which idea tickles me more: that it could’ve been the same guy or that in the span of a year I was harder on the Pinkertons than Ben Wade.

The Dentist, Part Two

2011-03-07T00:52:00.003-05:00

Two months ago, give or take a few days, I wrote about my most recent trip to the dentist and mentioned that one of the things I had always disliked about having my teeth worked on was the fact that the dentist and hygienist always gave me crap for not brushing more.

This is the sort of thing I don't like, obviously, but I can deal with it a couple times a year. Except now that I have a kid and am occasionally required to bring him to various appointments, the potential is there for me to spend even more time with the dentist.

That's what happened last Thursday. My wife was going out of town on Wednesday, to visit my parents. My mother asked if she would like to stay over so they could work on their sewing late into the night and go to the story the next day. My wife initially declined because our son had a dentist appointment on Thursday morning. Given recent events, though, I decided to man up.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I can take him."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Of course," I said. "I take people to appointments at work all the time. I'm sure I can handle doing it for my own child."

So in the morning, I rolled out of bed around nine o'clock, showered, got us both dressed, and headed to the dentist. Like any three-year-old, he wanted no part of it, insisting that we had to go directly to the babysitter's house. I tried to take his mind off of it by playing our favorite game on the stairs, the one where I loudly say, "BOOM, BOOM, BOOM," with each successive step, like we're a couple of marauding giants.

It worked. He was all smiles by the time we got into the office, and even happier when he saw Finding Nemo on the TV, the big fish tank in the center of the room, and the video games in the corner (he has absolutely no idea how to play video games. He just likes pushing the buttons).

Daddy, unfortunately, was not off to such a good start. When we got inside, approached the desk, and told them who we were, the nice lady at first looked at me like I'm sure she looks at everyone, with her, "I'm here to help YOU," face. After consulting her computer, however, she replaced it with her, "I'm confused," face. I don't like that face. It never means anything good for me. Often, it means I'm about to be confused as well.

"I have him down for the 11th," she said, "A Friday."

Argh. The only thing I hate more than going to appointments is showing up for an appointment at the wrong date or time. Still, she was very nice about it, pulling his file and managing to squeeze him in, so it wasn't going to be a wasted trip.

We went to the waiting room, and all was well for about ten minutes...until the hygienist came out to collect my little person.

Right away, you could see the change in his face. He knew what it meant when she called his name and Daddy started leading him down the long hallway. He knew he had been tricked. I avoided eye contact as his little face looked up at me, pleading to not let this happen. It was his, "I'm really trying hard to hold my shit together, so throw me a bone here Dad," face. That face always makes me sad. It's the quivering lower lip that does it. How do they KNOW to do that?

But, we do what we must, and so we followed the young hygienist to a little area that was only loosely walled off from a number of other similar spaces. It had all the normal dentist stuff: stickers, a little desk, waiting room chairs, that really cool light that they can move all over the place, and a green reclining chair that made my kid completely lose his shit.

Don't ever let anyone tell you that little kids don't remember things. This kid saw that chair and something clicked in his brain. He immediately started to cry, wrapped his arms around my leg until I picked him up, and dug his head into my shoulder. I tried to talk some sense into him, but surprisingly, sobbing three-year-olds are not the easiest people to communicate with. He was all but shut down. The hygienist looked at me sympathetically and said that the dentist was with another patient. He would be a few more minutes, theoretically giving us some time to pull ourselves together and make this happen.

Nope. When the dentist got there, the tears were still flowing. He asked about brushing, I told him it happened sporadically, and he gave me a look that told me what was coming.

"You need to do that," he said. "This is very important."

Really? I had no idea. Thank you for making me feel like a shitty parent within three minutes of meeting you. That's exactly what I needed on this fine winter morning. God, I should've lied.

I mean, I know I'm a good parent in some ways, and not so good in others. I try to keep my kid happy and clean and clothed and fed. Those are the good things. I don't always get him to brush his teeth or fall asleep in his own bed or pick up after himself. Those are the bad things. What can I say, I'm only human.

The dentist, though, cared only about the boy's teeth, and in that respect we were off to a poor start. He directed me to put my son on the chair, which I did. I sat down next to him and tried to keep him still while the dentist got started. His tears were starting to escalate. Uh-oh. I knew this look. It only registered subconsciously at the time, but I think this was the moment I realized that we were pretty much done with the dentist's office for the day.

"Alright, we're going to count your teeth..." He began to wail and clench his teeth. "One, two, three..." I can't remember how far the dentist actually got. I'm pretty sure he didn't count them all. He asked the hygienist to hand him a mirror, and that's when it got REALLY fun. My son did not like the mirror in his mouth. Not at all. He just about shot himself off the top of the chair, despite the fact that I was holding on to both wrists and practically sitting on top of him. He's a slippery little bastard when he wants to be.

Finally, the dentist gave up without even attempting a cleaning. As my son immediately leaped off the chair into my arm, Daddy received a lecture.

"How did he do with brushing last night [We didn't brush last night] How did he do this morning? [Shaking my head, shrugging my shoulders] You need to start brushing more regularly. If you do, he'll do better in the chair here. You need to change your expectations."

And so on. I suppose it doesn't read so badly, but I guess it wasn't so much the words that bothered me. It was the tone. I've heard that tone for 25 years, and maybe it's my fault for not taking better care of myself and my child, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. Throw in the fact that I worry enough about my parenting as it is (and that he casually mixed in, "His teeth look pretty good"; THEN WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?!) and I was ready to tell Dr. Dentist exactly what I thought of him.

The worst part, though, was when he decided to directly to address my son, who had his head on my shoulder, still crying.

"Next time, I don't want to see you act like that," he said. Then, when he didn't receive a reaction (other than, you know, tears), "Are you listening?"

That was the end of it. We were all but done anyway, and I didn't want to deal with him talking to my son like that right in front of me, so we took our tooth brush, floss, and sticker and left.

As we walked away from the evil chair, the little jerk's mood brightened. By the time we reached the waiting room, he was smiling again and hoping to watch Nemo, which obviously made me hate him a little bit. (I'm allowed to do that, he's my kid.)

Given a few days to consider things, it wasn't a bad visit. We showed up on the wrong day and they were nice enough to squeeze us in. My kid was a monster on the chair and the dentist didn't throw him through a wall. In the end, the thing that got me was the nagging, that same old nagging I've dealt with forever. I probably need to learn to deal with it better, at least where my son is concerned, but I hate that nagging with the fire of a thousand suns. Maybe we should just try to do better with brushing his teeth.

His next appointment is in September. I'm pretty sure his mother will be taking him.

The Gym

2011-02-20T22:53:00.002-05:00

At work on Friday, something happened that made me question the way we deal with certain people and situations.

I was at the gym with a client when another gentleman came in. He worked out for a few minutes, then went to get a drink of water. When he came back, he picked up the remote control and began trying to figure out how to turn the television on.

It was a purely innocent action, but here’s why I found it interesting: some people that I work with don’t like to have the television on while they work out. If they come in while someone else is working out and watching, they try to suck it up and get their work done (and usually do quite well), but given a choice, they prefer quiet.

Now, if one of my clients walks into the room when someone else is working out and watching television, and he or she just goes over and turns off the set without consulting anyone, that would be considered rude, right? I’d have to explain that you should ask before you do that, and if the other person refuses to accommodate your wishes, you either have to deal with it for a few minutes because they were there first or wait until they're done to start your workout. That seems reasonable to me, and I suspect it would seem reasonable to most of the people I work with.

But this guy who grabbed the remote and turned on the TV? He didn’t ask if we had a problem with it. He just did it. And try as I might, I could not think of any reason why this was any less rude than turning off the television without asking.

In both cases, you’re changing the status quo without expressing any concern for the wishes of the other people in the room. Yet while I would be on hand to explain to my client why his or her actions were socially inappropriate, there was nobody to tell this gentleman that he was being just as inappropriate, even though the intent was the same in both instances.

Moral of the story, I suppose, is that if you walk into a gym and someone else is already there, check with them before you turn the TV on or off.

The Hospital

2011-02-18T00:48:00.005-05:00

On February 8, my wife called from her counselor's office and asked me to bring her to the emergency room. Once there, she made an incredibly brave decision, asking to be admitted to the hospital for treatment of severe depression. I wrote this in the day or two after, when I was alone and scared and had no idea how things were going to turn out. I'm pretty sure I pounded out the last couple hundred words at 4:15 one morning. I had to work in four hours, but getting the words out was important, for my sanity.

While waiting for her to come home and give the thumbs up or down on posting it, I thought about maybe doing some editing, adding more thought and detail and perspective and turning it into a more complete story, a better piece of writing. But my friend Chris, one of only two people I showed, gave me some great advice. He said, "You can't edit feelings." I thought that made sense, so I decided to leave it largely as is, an emotional outburst from a vulnerable moment.

They take her coat. They take her clothes. They take her purse, her belongings, and most of her dignity, and they lock it all in a closet.

She was lucky (or smart) enough to be wearing footwear without laces, so she gets to keep her shoes.

They give her a pair of scrubs, a bed in case she wants to lie down, and chairs that look and feel like they were pulled directly from the waiting room. They pretend to care about her comfort, but that locked closet, the security guard waiting patiently outside the open door, and the signs warning that she is under video surveillance suggest that they’re more concerned with making sure she doesn’t hurt herself.

When it comes down to a choice between taking away her self-respect and keeping her alive, they choose the latter.

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As the observer, you want to question the approach. It feels so cold. You want to explain to them that you know her better than anyone, that the fact that she’s even here means she won’t hurt herself, that she’s not nearly capable of hurting anybody else.

You want to step up and fight for her dignity with a strength that she doesn’t have.

But then you realize that this is the wrong response. Understandable, but wrong. These inconveniences are important because they keep everyone safe. You, her, the hospital staff, the other patients. They’ve seen others like her in their day. They’ve taken in people that would never hurt themselves or anybody else, and then had to stop them from doing exactly that.

And while it’s humiliating to feel like she’s being treated, at her most vulnerable moment, like less than a person, part of the reason you’re there is to remind her – while all these indignities are being imposed and freedoms compromised – that she is still a person, that she still has value, that this too shall pass.

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The hardest part is going home to pack her bag. She gave you a list of things she needs, but she always handles this sort of thing, and this is out of your league, and by the time you’re done half an hour has passed and you’ve reached for the phone at least three times to call her up and ask where things are.

The problem with that, of course, is that her phone is in your jacket pocket, where you put it when she handed it to you before they wheeled her out of the emergency room on a stretcher. They don’t allow electronics where she’s going. You’re told it’s for reasons of privacy, which makes sense, but they also want her to focus on getting better instead of worrying about the phrasing of her next status message. That makes sense too.

It’s not until you actually reach for the phone and start to run through the conversation in your mind – “Hey…where did you say that black t-shirt was? Next to the desk…are you sure, I don’t see it…” – that it sinks in. This is what it could have been like if she hadn’t had the presence of mind to get help, if you hadn’t given her that last little push to be selfish, to stop worrying about everyone else and just focus on herself, on getting better. It sucks to have to make it about yourself, but that’s what it takes to drive the point home: you’ve just walked into a version of the future, a scary version. A version without her.

You have a chance now to make sure it doesn’t happen. You hope you don’t blow it.

It occurs to you that if she dies before you someday – a long, long, long time from now – you will feel this again. And despite that, you find yourself hoping that when the time comes, many years from now, she goes first, because you never want her to feel this kind of desperate loneliness.

That’s when the tears come.

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It only takes a couple days to understand what those folks in the hospital, the ones who deal with this stuff every day, knew all along: self-respect can be rebuilt, retaught, replaced. A person can’t.

She still hasn’t slept, and the med situation is precarious at best, but the lack of stress means she already looks a little bit better. The tears that marked her days for the past two weeks are gone, at least. She’s had visitors, and made a couple of friends, and is intent on completing every puzzle this community room has to offer.

She’s in good hands. She wants to get better. She’s trying to get better. She will get better.

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In a few days, she’ll come home. And that second chance, the one you don’t want to blow?

It’s go time.

Because you have to be honest with yourself: you should have seen this coming. Maybe you did. Maybe you saw the dark clouds forming out there on the horizon, and instead of wrapping her tight in your arms and telling her everything was going to be alright, forcing everything to be alright, you closed up shop and cared only about yourself. It’s an attitude borne of the loner’s life, of a life lived just below everyone’s radar, a life where you’ve never had to be too necessary, never had to care too deeply about anyone other than yourself, because there has always been someone else to worry about it for you.

That mindset protects you, allows you to keep your anger and sadness inside. You thought it protected those around you as well, to an extent, kept them from the worst side of you, kept them from seeing too much of your unhappiness.

You were wrong.

So now, the challenge: to be there, in body, mind, and spirit. To put the computer aside more often and allow for more family time. To remember what you have and how quickly it can be lost. To give her the time and space to find herself, to figure out exactly who she is and what she wants and how she will get it.

To remember what it was like to reach for the phone and know that no matter how many times you dialed the number, there would be no answer.

Maybe you can’t stop the bad things from happening. Maybe this is your life now, dealing with the constant ebb and flow of human emotion, doing your level best to handle each day as it comes. If it is, so be it. It will be a mighty struggle, but it will be worth it.

Together, we will get better.

Conversations With My Wife

2011-01-16T15:15:00.002-05:00

I tend to whine when I get sick, which led to the following conversation between my wife and I this afternoon.

Me: I think I'm dying.
Her: You're not dying, you're just sick.
Me: But what if I really AM dying? What then?
Her: Then, I will apologize for not believing you.
Me: Okay, I can accept that.

The Snow Day

2011-01-13T22:52:00.002-05:00

I had a snow day at work yesterday, the result of a massive storm that moved up from the south (I think) and landed on my small New Hampshire town sometime in the wee hours of the morning, leaving only after dropping close to a foot and a half in twelve hours.*

*My wife, lovely woman that she is, looked at me around lunch time and said, “We should order take out and have it delivered.”

The threat of this storm, and the possibility of a free day off, caused me to consider a question that had surprisingly never occurred to me before: which day is the best for a snow day?

There is, of course, no such thing as a “bad” snow day. So bear in mind that the fifth-best day on this list is still better than one that includes work or school. Unless you really love work or school. That’s okay too.

One thing I’m choosing to ignore here is the Fake-Out Snow Day, which is when you hear reports of a big storm coming, stay up late the night before to see if there’s an announcement, but wake up in the morning and realize that barely a flake has fallen and your dream of a snow day is gone. The Fake-Out Snow Day is the most evil, vile trick that Mother Nature can play on us. We shall never speak of it again.

Anyway, here are the five days of the traditional work/school week, in order of best to worst timing for snow days:

1. Monday
You’ve just had your weekend. Now it’s time to get back into the grind…except you wake up Monday morning, the ground is covered, the plows are out, and work/school is canceled! Woo hoo, free long weekend, made that much sweeter by the fact that you didn’t even see it coming.

2. Friday
For much the same reason as Monday, in that you get an extra day on the weekend. The only difference is that this way, you know going into the weekend that it’s gonna be a long one. Some might argue that the Friday snow day is the best because it cuts the week off prematurely – Thursday becomes Friday, but only after the fact, which is always amazing when you consider how hard Fridays can be to deal with. You’re welcome to think that, and I certainly won’t argue with you. The Monday/Friday debate is a matter of personal preference. In the end, there is no right or wrong answer.

3. Wednesday
Under ordinary circumstances, Wednesday might be the worst day ever. At the beginning, you’ve made it through two days; at the end, you still have two days to go. Gah, so depressing. But when you have a midweek snow day, suddenly Wednesday feels like Sunday, which means Thursday feels like Monday, which makes Friday feel like the fastest-arriving Friday ever. I mean, tomorrow’s Friday, and thanks to my snow day, it feels like I’ve only worked one day this week. It’s amazing. The awesomeness of splitting the work week into two equal parts cannot be overstated. I’m 93.4% certain that if my boss offered me ten hours a day on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, with Wednesdays off, I would take it without a second thought.

4. Thursday
There’s nothing wrong with a Thursday snow day – it’s still a day away from the daily schedule – but it’s not quite as good as the others. You’ve already gone through three days of work, so you’re a little more tired than on a Wednesday. It’s only Thursday, so you don’t get the excitement of a three-day weekend. It does, however, give you a chance at something special, especially if you’re still in school: if you can convince your parents that you don’t need to go to school on the Friday as well, you can work your way into a four-day weekend.* And THAT is a beautiful thing indeed.

*My mother was actually good for this whenever we were sick. I can’t even tell you how many times we would come down with something early in the week, feel better by Thursday afternoon, and my mother would be like, “I’m not gonna send you to school for one day this week.” It’s funny, you’d think with a mindset like that, I’d miss a lot of work with various ailments, yet I haven’t called in sick in nearly three years. Isn’t it ironic?

5. Tuesday
Well, some day had to bring up the rear here, and sadly, it’s Tuesday. A Tuesday snow day is a good snow day, simple because it is a snow day. But again, it’s not a long weekend, and it falls behind Thursday because of the three long days that follow. Like Monday/Friday, it’s probably a matter of preference. Some people probably like to get Monday out of the way, then get a free day off, then deal with the three days in a row. That feels too much like a tease to me. Also, you lose the opportunity for the four-day weekend, which is the true value in a Thursday snow day.

The idea of snow itself, not just a snow day, also got me thinking about something else (I think I might have seen a similar question somewhere recently, but I can’t remember where): how is it that we’re in the year 2011, able to do all sorts of amazing stuff like communicate via small handheld devices, send people into outer space, and build telescopes that can tell us about storms on freakin’ Saturn – real Star Trek-level stuff – but we haven’t figured out a better way to deal with snow?

It falls out of the sky and immediately shuts down our infrastructure, whether we’ve been warned of its imminent arrival or not. Governors warn people to stay off the roads. Big trucks are immediately dispatched to push it around, which gets it out of our way in one sense, but also creates these big ol’ mountains that those of us who drive Saturn Ions can’t see around without easing gently into the road. Salt and sand are thrown on the ground. This is the 21st century, and we can’t do better than salt and sand?

I don’t have any answers, of course. That would be too easy. I’m just wondering why a scientist somewhere – could be a dude from NASA, could be that weird sixteen-year-old kid from down the street who’s always doing some sort of experiments in his basement, could be my tenth grade chemistry teacher – hasn’t figured out something that works better, like roads that don’t become slippery, or tires that can gain traction on the slickest surfaces (from the way I see some people driving, I think they think at least one of these already exists). I mean, come on, people, let’s do this. I really wanted a sub yesterday.

The Dentist

2011-01-11T00:17:00.001-05:00

I went to the dentist today. For a long time, I didn’t go to the dentist at all; my mother always made sure I got my semi-annual checkups growing up, but once I was old enough to make my own medical decisions, I stopped going and didn’t start again until I moved a couple years ago, had a kid, and started reading stories about how poor oral health could lead to problems in other areas down the road. I didn’t feel like developing heart disease someday because I didn’t care for my teeth properly. That’s what I eat fast food for.

So today was my third visit to this particular dentist, and while it’s different from what I’m used to (ex: my old dentist came by to take a look at my teeth every time I had an appointment; I’ve seen my current dentist once, I think, on my first visit), I enjoy it. I see the same hygienist every time, which is nice. We’re working on developing our routine; so far it consists of small talk, administrative stuff (choosing a new toothbrush, making the next appointment), cleaning (when she will invariably tell me I need to floss), and wrap-up (a little more small talk, then the part where I always forget if I owe a co-pay or if my insurance covers the entire visit).

Growing up, I sucked at brushing my teeth regularly - I mean, I’d do it at least once a day, but usually not more than that – and both the dentist and hygienist would always call me on it. “You’ve got really nice teeth,” the doc would say. “You need to take care of them.” It’s a refrain I became familiar with, and while it wasn’t the only reason I stopped going on a regular basis (that awful pick that they use to scrape your teeth was the worst; yes, I know that if I brushed like I was supposed to, they wouldn’t need the pick. But you know they’d use it anyway!), it certainly didn’t help. Nobody wants to hear about how bad they suck at something.

So anyway, my hygienist was finishing up today, telling me I need to brush closer to the gum line and floss, when she drops this line on me:

“You need to take care of your teeth. I can tell someone spent a lot of money to make them look nice.”

Now, this threw me for a loop. First part, same old, same old. Second part? I’ve never had any work done on my teeth, just regular cleanings, and I told her so.

“You’ve never had ortho?” she asked. I’m not sure she believed me.

“No, I never had braces.” By this point, I wasn’t sure myself. (Did I have braces and nobody told me?)

We left it at that, and I went out to the front desk to give the lady there a hard time (all in good fun, of course), but the exchange got me thinking. Everyone has something they’re good at, right? Or, to put it more broadly, everyone has something “going” for them. What if that thing, for me, is that MY TEETH ARE STRAIGHT? What does that even mean? How is that a marketable skill? Should I be a competitive eater? Have my own show? Does the “Man vs. Food” guy need to watch out? I just don’t know.

The Water Bill

2011-01-07T23:39:00.002-05:00

My car has this weird issue where it won’t start right away when it’s really cold out. I know, I know, I sound like one of those people who think that everything they experience is special simply because THEY are the one experiencing it. (“Really, Brian, who DOESN’T expect a little car trouble on cold winter mornings? Get over yourself.”) But please, just hear me out for a second.

My daily routine is fairly: I wake up, shower, get dressed, kiss the wife good-bye, and leave, locking the door to the apartment (safety first!) behind me before heading to the car. As soon as I step outside, I hold my car key tight in one fist and blow on it like a pitcher trying to warm up his hand during an April night game in Cleveland. I’m telling you, I go to town on the thing. If I’m lucky, this warms the key up enough to trick the ignition into thinking that it’s not really that cold outside and it should start with minimal protest. (It often starts with a groan – but it starts – and I give the gas a little kick. I like to think of that little jolt as my car’s morning coffee. You’re welcome, car.) If I’m unlucky, the ignition laughs at me briefly, the starter sort of halfheartedly tries to catch, and then…nothing but silence and sadness. And no coffee for that sumbitch either.

My wife looked it up on the Internets and learned that it’s some sort of glitch in the security system that only occurs when it’s cold. The only solution, short of taking it to a mechanic and having them actually fix it (who does that?), is to wait ten minutes and try again. To date, this has only failed to work once or twice, on those North Pole Cold mornings, and always by the third try.

The problem, of course, is that I’m habitually late (it’s sort of my “thing”) and don’t always have those ten minutes to spare. Like this morning. When that happens, I go back into my apartment, grab the wife’s keys, and steal her car. Occasionally I’ll yell up the stairs, “I’m taking your car!” and she’ll groggily reply, “Whatever,” or, “No, I need it today!” But by that time, I’m gone.

Really, that was just a way of using three hundred words to say that I was drove my wife’s car to work today, and while I was driving around, I noticed that she had tucked the water bill into the visor. So I texted her to see when it was due. It didn’t have to be in for another week or so*, but she said she had been forgetting to drop it off, so I offered to bring it by the Water Utilities building (that may not be the right name, but that’s what I’m calling it) after work.

*We’re trying this weird new financial philosophy called Paying Our Bills On Time, because – get this – the people you owe money to? They LIKE IT when they get your money on time! I KNOW! I was shocked too! I always thought they were calling me every day just to say hi!**

**I just asked my wife if it was bad to joke about our financial difficulties in a post. She said yes. Then I read her that paragraph – she laughed and said, “Okay, that’s funny.” So laugh, goddammit.

When I offered to do this, I forgot that the Water Utilities building is awful to approach after dark, for three reasons:

1. It’s located at the end of a long, not-exactly-straight road. This isn’t bad during normal business hours because you can drive into the parking lot and turn around. After quittin’ time, however, they have one of those big chain link gates that comes across, turning the road into a dead end and requiring a thirteen point turn if you want to leave. If somebody pulls in behind you? I honestly have no idea what you would do, short of a) trying to communicate through a series of complex hand gestures, b) using your headlights and brake lights to coordinate your escape via Morse code, or c) talk to each other and say, “Hey, you make your thirteen point turn first, then I’ll make mine. And if one of those wild packs of Milford teens that roams the railroad tracks should fall upon me before I can get out, don’t turn back. For the love of God, man, don’t turn back.”

I suppose you COULD just back up. I tried it once, and it was thrilling. But again, you run the risk of backing around a corner into some other stupid schmuck who decided to pay his bill early.

2. There are maybe 1 ½, maybe two, car lengths between this chain link fence and the railroad tracks that cut through town. The first problem, of course, is that one might inadvertently back up into an oncoming train. This isn’t as big an issue as we might fear, however, because the sight lines are fairly good and these aren’t bullet trains we’re talking about. They move slow enough to take evasive maneuvers if necessary. No, the real issue is that these train tracks, like all train tracks, are kinda scary.

Now maybe that’s a bit unfair. I mean, train tracks have feelings too, right? And I live close to these very same tracks, and I’ve never had a problem. But I always feel like there COULD be a problem, if things break just right. The teenagers with perfectly normal, happy lives who decide to stir up some trouble, just because. The lonely drifter with nothing to lose who barely knows one town from the next. The nice lady in her fifties walking her brand new 728-pound Rottweiler puppy that she can’t possibly control.

The tracks are generally safe. But rest assured, when something weird like this goes down, I’ll be dropping off my water bill. That’s a guarantee.

3. Speaking of dropping off my water bill: the drop box is about two feet from the evil chain link fence, making it impossible to pull up, roll down the window, leave the money, and drive away. No, you have to stop the car, get out, walk to the drop box, drop the bill in, double-check to make sure the bill went down into the box, walk back to the car, and get back in. So much can occur while this is happening, like all the stuff I mentioned above. (And zombies! I didn’t even mention zombies! What if I walk back to my car and a zombie snuck into the back seat? Where will I be then? Do you know how hard it is to execute a nineteen-point turn with a zombie trying to eat your brains? Pretty fucking hard.)

Anyway, that’s why I had to drop off the water bill tonight, and why I hate having to do it after dark. Fortunately, none of this stuff actually happened, as evidenced by the fact that I’m here to tell my invigorating tale. But make no mistake – it could have happened. Oh yes, it all could have happened.

I suppose there’s always next quarter.

The Bizarro Hall of Fame: Introducing the Class of 2011

2011-01-06T21:05:00.001-05:00

Every January, One More Dying Quail pays homage to those players who enjoyed successful major league careers, were rewarded for their service with a spot on the Hall of Fame ballot five years after retirement, and faded away into history without earning a single vote. With this year’s class, 199 players have been enshrined.

Carlos Baerga – On December 6, 1989, the San Diego Padres traded 21-year-old Baerga to the Cleveland Indians. The other youngster joining the Tribe, 23-year-old catcher Sandy Alomar Jr., had an exceptional season in 1990, starting behind the plate for the American League in the All-Star Game and winning the Rookie of the Year and Gold Glove awards. (Fun fact: the player on the other side of the trade, Joe Carter, was dealt by the Padres just a year later, along with Sandy’s brother, Roberto.)

Baerga made Baseball America’s Top 100 list before the 1990 season but took a bit longer than Alomar to mature, appearing in 108 games in 1990 (93 OPS+, 1.0 WAR) and 158 in 1991 (105 OPS+, 2.5 WAR) before breaking out in 1992 (.312 BA, 20 HR, 105 RBI, 205 hits, 127 OPS+) and 1993 (.321 BA, 21 HR, 114 RBI, 200 hits, 124 OPS+) as one of Cleveland’s exciting young stars. Those were the highest heights he would reach: his numbers declined over the next two seasons, and he was traded to the Mets in 1996 for Jeff Kent.

Baerga spent two full seasons in New York after the trade. He signed with the Padres in 1999, was purchased by the Indians, granted free agency, and fell off the face of the earth for two seasons. Okay, not quite: he spent 2001 with Long Island, in the Atlantic League, hitting .315 with nine homeruns in 203 at-bats. He proved there that he wasn’t done just yet; the Red Sox signed him as a backup infielder and designated hitter, a role he also filled in 2003 and 2004 with Arizona and 2005 with Washington.

Lenny Harris - On June 1, 1998, with his Reds trailing 16-3, Harris was called upon to pitch the bottom of the eighth inning against the San Francisco Giants. He struck out Brent Mayne looking (“on a nasty backdoor slider,” according to Jeff Horrigan of the Cincinnati Post) and got Stan Javier and Bill Mueller to fly out to center and left, respectively. Way to put out the fire, Leonard.

That game was indicative of Harris’s entire playing career. He retired in 2005 after 18 seasons during which he played 1,900 games at eight different positions (everywhere except catcher) for eight different teams (Cincinnati, Los Angeles Dodgers, New York Mets, Florida, Arizona, Colorado, Chicago Cubs, and Brewers). He was also a pinch-hitter of some renown. In other words, he was the kind of guy who stuck because he did whatever the team asked him to do.

Bobby Higginson – Poor Higginson was a pretty decent player – he had a 124 OPS+ from 1996-2001, including 145 in 1996 – who played for a terrible organization in Detroit. Eight times in his eleven seasons, the Tigers lost ninety games. Three times they lost a hundred, including 119 in 2003. Fun times in the Motor City. His last season was 2005, so of course, the Tigers reached the World Series in 2006. I don’t think that qualifies for the Ewing Theory, but at least it gives him something in common with DonMattingly.

Charles Johnson – I grew up an hour from Portland, Maine, and can still remember being in eighth grade and listening to my friend Ryan Green rave about the catcher he had seen playing for the Sea Dogs (then an affiliate of the Marlins). That player was Johnson, a two-time first round draft pick (10th overall by Montreal in 1989 and 28th overall by Florida in 1992) turned Top 20 prospect who turned in a stellar season in 1994: 28 homeruns and 80 RBI while gunning down 47% of would-be base stealers. He also stopped in for a major league visit in early May, hitting .455 in four games, including a homerun in his second at-bat (off Curt Schilling).

Johnson eventually achieved success in the major leagues as well, making two All-Star games, winning four Gold Gloves, and hitting .304 with 31 homeruns with 91 RBI for Baltimore and the Chicago White Sox in 2000.

Raul Mondesi – Mondesi was a very, very good young player who won the Rookie of the Year award and two Gold Gloves in his first five years with the Dodgers, but he ran into problems later in his career (after spending his first seven seasons with Los Angeles, he played for six different teams in his last six years). Even into that latter half, he was a very talented power hitter, with nine straight twenty-homer seasons, including three in a row with thirty from 1997-99. Two of those were also 30-30 seasons, and he just missed another by three homeruns in 2001.

Kirk Rueter – Rueter burst onto the scene with the Team That Should’ve Been, the Montreal Expos, in 1993, starting his career 8-0 with a 2.73 ERA in fourteen starts. He played 3 ½ seasons for Les Expos before being dealt to San Francisco for Mark Leiter at the 1996 trade deadline. He ended up playing for the Giants for nine full seasons, winning 105 games and holding down a key spot in the starting rotation for the 2002 team that nearly won the World Series. He started Game Four opposite John Lackey, allowing three runs on nine hits in six innings (he left with the game tied, 3-3) and was called upon in relief in Game Seven; with the Giants trailing, 4-1, entering the fourth inning, Rueter came in and held the Angels to one hit and one walk over four scoreless frames (Anaheim still won when Lackey handed that three run lead over to Brendan Donnelly, Francisco Rodriguez, and Troy Percival).

My (Make Believe) Hall of Fame Ballot

2011-01-03T23:46:00.003-05:00

I did this once several years ago. The time felt right to do it again.

1. Bert Blyleven (14th year) – There is nothing that anyone (let alone me) can say or write at this point that will have the slightest impact on Blyleven’s Hall of Fame candidacy. The biggest arguments for voting against him are that he lost a lot of games, he’s no Jack Morris, and many sportswriters are contrarian by nature. I’m gonna stick with the other side of the argument, which says that he won a lot of games, struck out a lot of batters, pitched a lot of games without allowing any runs, and did alright for himself in the postseason.

2. Roberto Alomar (2nd year) – It’s not easy casting a vote for Alomar. If what I’ve heard is correct, the very worst thing you can do to a man, aside from insulting his mama, is spit in his face. So there’s that wee bit of controversy. Also against him is his sudden drop in productivity, from the best second baseman in baseball in 2001 to a guy who was traded straight up for Brad Murray after the trade deadline in 2004. It was a tough way to end a great career, and it came out of nowhere. Still, I think he did enough from 1990 to 2001 – eleven All-Star games, ten Gold Gloves, five Top Ten MVP finishes – and is respected enough as one of the game’s great second basemen to get him into Cooperstown.

3. Jeff Bagwell (1st year) – A few years ago, I developed a close friendship with a young woman at work. We hung out a lot and she loved my wife and kid. She was part of the family. Somewhere along the way, people saw the way we behaved around one another and began to assume that we were having an affair. We weren’t, but they believed what they wanted to believe because, as they saw it, the signs were all there.* So yeah, I kinda understand how Jeff Bagwell must feel when people assume he was on steroids just because he had muscles and hit homeruns and grew a funny beard. I mean, maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. We don’t really know. What we do know is that five years have passed since his career ended. A lot of players have been outed as steroid users. He isn’t one of them, and it’s unfair to assume otherwise.

*This is a ridiculously oversimplified version of this story, but hey, the Cliffs Notes version best fits the Bagwell narrative. I hope to write about the whole situation someday. I just have to figure out how to do it first.

4. Tim Raines (4th year) – This was one of the first years that I really gave a lot of thought to steroids, their effect on the game, and why people care. One of the biggest problems I had was the hypocrisy with which we treat different kinds of drug users and different kinds of cheaters. Steroids are awful, but cocaine is okay (for some). Steroids are awful, but doctoring the ball is okay. I haven’t been able to make it match up in my mind. Maybe I never will. It’s one of the reasons I’m glad I don’t have a real vote. Anyway, I’m voting for Raines. He was a great player and deserves the recognition, even if he used the cocaine.

5. Fred McGriff (2nd year) – I once played an entire season as the Atlanta Braves on one of Ken Griffey Jr.’s Super Nintendo games from the early 1990s. McGriff was my star player with a .468 batting average and lots of homeruns and RBIs. He was pretty good in real life as well – thirty-plus homeruns every season from 1988-1994, and at least twenty in every season but one from 1987-2002 (and that one season, he hit 19). He was also eerily consistent when it came to runs batted in: he had eight seasons with between 101 and 107, and fifteen straight years with eighty or more (although I suppose that’s likely when you’re hitting twenty bombs a year). And did anyone ever have a bad word to say about McGriff? I think not. He was just a quiet, homerun-hitting superstar, perhaps the last true power hitter before the offensive explosion of the mid-1990s.

6. Edgar Martinez (2nd year) – From 1995, when he became a full-time designated hitter, to 2003, when he enjoyed his last great offensive season, Edgar’s OPS+ was 159. That’s really good. And it’s not like the years before that were all that bad either: 138 from 1990-94, including a 164 when he won the batting title in 1992. Imagine if he had reached the majors as an everyday player before his 27th birthday? His Hall of Fame candidacy wouldn’t even be in question.

7. Larry Walker (1st year) – I had Walker on my ballot. Then I took him off. Then I realized I was a couple guys short of ten, and realized there was no way I could leave him out in the cold if I hadn’t even reached the maximum yet. So here he is, Coors Field Creation or not (and I know many people have argued both sides of that), one of the most dominant hitters of the late 1990s.

8. Dave Parker (15th year)
9. Dale Murphy (13th year) – Alright, so I put some thought into this one. Parker and Murphy are, in reality, a couple of those close-but-no-cigar candidates. Both had a few great years; the latter had, as pointed out by Joe Posnanski, ONLY a few great years (and a handful of icky ones), the former almost ruined his career with cocaine. So there are definitely some reasons to dismiss them out of hand. My problem is that I’ve endorsed Jim Rice in the past, and seriously considered Andre Dawson, which makes me somewhat hypocritical in that Parker and Murphy are not all that dissimilar from either player in terms of career accomplishments (and Murphy was a helluva nice guy, to boot).

Now, here’s the thing for me. It might be obvious, it might not, that I haven’t included any known steroid users on this list - Mark McGwire and Rafael Palmeiro are the most obvious ones – and I mentioned earlier that I still wasn’t quite sure how I wanted to handle those guys. Well, here’s what I’m thinking: Parker is done on the ballot after this election, Murphy has another two years after this. Why not give them those moments with a couple of votes that they earned through excellent careers, and deal with McGwire and Palmeiro more fully next year and beyond? Because at this point, I feel like my feelings are starting to become more fully formed on this whole mess. Hell, I’ve got two dudes who used coke on my ballot, and last I checked, cocaine was as illegal as steroids. So yeah, even though I’ve got one more spot open, that’s what I’ll do.

Wins, Losses, and NFL Head Coaches: Who Can Catch Don Shula

2011-01-02T22:04:00.002-05:00

Of the nearly 500 men in the history of the NFL who have served as a head coach, Don Shula won the most - 328 in 33 years with the Baltimore Colts and Miami Dolphins. To get there, he had to pass legends like Paul Brown (213), Curly Lambeau (226), and George Halas (318), and outlast contemporary Tom Landry (250). To put Shula's mark into perspective, only Halas and Landry have come within even 100 wins of the record.

After the Patriots beat the Dolphins this afternoon for Bill Belichick's 162nd career victory, I started thinking about which head coaches, if any, might have a chance of approaching, or breaking, Shula's record (that's, a lot, of commas). Here's who I came up with, in some sort of order:

Honorable Mention: Bill Cowher, 53, 149-90-1 (fifteen seasons)

Cowher hasn't coached since 2006, but he's still relatively young and has more wins than both Jeff Fisher and Andy Reid, and about a season's worth less than Belichick. His name is constantly mentioned whenever coaching jobs open up, but he has the benefit of picking and choosing where, if anywhere, he ends up. That's actually a negative as well: unlike some other coaches, he doesn't come off as a guy that really NEEDS to coach again.

Josh McDaniels, 34, 11-17 (two seasons)

It probably seems silly right now, considering he was just fired by the Denver Broncos in the middle of his second season, but here's the thing: McDaniels is young (he'll turn 35 in April) and smart. Let's say he takes a couple years to get back to basics, work as a coordinator, and prepare for his next opportunity as the head guy (i.e. the Bill Belichick plan). That puts him in position to be successful by his late thirties and gives him time to win some damn ballgames. Is this a whole lot of conjecture? Sure. Is there a whole lot of ground to cover before he even becomes a serious candidate? Of course. But his youth makes him, at the very least, a possibility.

Eric Mangini, 40, 33-47 (five seasons)

Again, youth. Mangini turns forty in eight days and has 33 wins on his NFL resume. His chances depend on what happens in Cleveland next season (if he gets a next season in Cleveland). If he gets fired, either this offseason or next, it closes his window in a hurry.

Jeff Fisher, 52, 142-120 (seventeen seasons)

Fisher has the longest current head coaching tenure in the NFL - and he's still 186 wins short of Shula, with a team that has missed the playoffs in five of the last seven seasons. Say he survives this recent stretch, stays in Tennessee, and averages ten wins a year for the next ten years. That puts him in Landry territory, which ain't too shabby.

Raheem Morris, 34, 13-19 (two seasons)

First year: 3-13. Second year: 10-6. Even if this year was a bit fluky, he goes into next season with an excellent young quarterback, strength at the other skill positions (LeGarrette Blount, Kellen Winslow, Mike Williams), and youth on his side.

Andy Reid, 52, 118-74 (twelve seasons)

Reid is less than a month younger than Fisher and has 24 fewer wins to his credit, and I think the same reasoning applies: continued success for the next ten years puts him in the company of some all-time greats. Unlike Fisher, however, I think he has a pretty good chance of getting into that rarefied air.

Mike Tomlin, 38, 43-21 (four seasons)

In four full seasons, Tomlin's Steelers have never won fewer than nine games, made three playoffs appearances, and won a Super Bowl. As such, he hasn't had to worry about being on the hot seat, giving him the chance to build some up some cred. It's easier to have a bad season when you've got five or six successful ones in front of it. Also worth noting: he works for an organization noted for its loyalty to head coaches.

Bill Belichick, 58, 162-94 (sixteen seasons)

It may seem crazy given his age, but here's the deal: Belichick has averaged ten wins a season for his career. Say that holds steady for the next fifteen years - he'll be in his early seventies, which is old, but not unheard of for an NFL coach (Marv Levy was 72 his last season with Buffalo), especially one who lives and breathes the game as much as Belichick. An additional 150 wins puts him around 310 for his career - past Brown, past Lambeau, past Landry, and within a season or two of Halas and Shula.

Will any of this come true? I haven't the slightest clue. But hey, it'll give me one more reason to pay attention to the NFL for the next thirty or so years.

The Most Hall of Fame Votes of All-Time

2011-01-02T12:50:00.004-05:00

I'm a big fan of interesting stuff that means absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. The other day, I got to wondering which players had received the most votes during their entire time on the Hall of Fame ballot.

Obviously, this was never meant to be a list for the all-time greats, who generally appear just once or twice before, but a way of mentioning the guys like Jim Rice and Bert Blyleven (poor Bert just gets NO press), borderline candidates who stuck around for a long while before either gathering enough votes for induction or falling off and becoming fodder for countless, "He should be in! No he shouldn't!" arguments.

Player	HOF	Years on Ballot	Votes
Jim Rice	2009	1995-2009	3974
Jim Bunning	1996 (VC)	1977-91	3213
Gil Hodges	No	1969-83	3010
Bruce Sutter	2006	1994-2006	2767
Andre Dawson	2010	2002-10	2750
Bert Blyleven	No	1998-2010	2631
Tony Perez	2000	1992-2000	2599
Rich Gossage	2008	2000-08	2487
Orlando Cepeda	1999 (VC)	1980-94	2406
Enos Slaughter	1985 (VC)	1966-79	2371
Steve Garvey	No	1993-2007	2312
Nellie Fox	1997 (VC)	1971-85	2150
Don Drysdale	1984	1975-84	2111
Tommy John	No	1995-2009	2055
Tony Oliva	No	1982-1996	2000
Jack Morris	No	2000-10	1895
Hoyt Wilhelm	1985	1978-85	1873
Duke Snider	1980	1970-80	1831
Ralph Kiner	1975	1960-75	1829
Red Schoendienst	1989 (VC)	1969-83	1823
Lee Smith	No	2003-10	1776

A few points of interest:

Three of these players are currently on the ballot: Blyleven, Morris, and Smith.

Smith was used as the cutoff point because he was the last "active" player for quite some time, so it was a logical break point.

Blyleven should become the fourth player ever with 3,000 lifetime votes. Two of the first three are in the Hall of Fame: Jim Rice was voted in on the fifteenth try and Jim Bunning was chosen by the Veterans Committee. Gil Hodges is the only player to receive that many votes without being elected by either group.

Seven of the 21 players on the list are not in the Hall of Fame. Blyleven and Morris stand a good chance of making it via BBWAA voting, and I think John might get some love from the Veterans Committee. I'm not sure Garvey or Oliva will ever make it Cooperstown, or what will happen to Lee Smith.

The Good Samaritan

2010-12-14T23:46:00.001-05:00

Baltimore’s light-rail system is designed to be a fast, affordable connector between Baltimore-Washington International Airport and the downtown area. Instead of renting a car or taking a taxi, travelers can simply make the long walk to the end of the terminal, find the station, and wait for the train to arrive and carry them to their destination. All you really need is $1.60 for the ticket and the ability to read a train schedule.

I flew out of Manchester and into BWI late last summer, several hours ahead of some family members who had departed from Boston on a later flight. For my first time really traveling alone, it didn’t go badly: made it through security without creating an international incident, figured out how to board the plane correctly, had a nice conversation with the man in the seat next to me, found my way off the plane and out of the terminal, and found the train station. Full of confidence, I hitched up my backpack and strode across the platform to the schedule…

Where I quickly realized, of course, that I had no clue how to get where I was going.

It was quite an interesting revelation, really. I’ve read train schedules before, in a math class where I once worked as a paraprofessional, and it was never a problem then, figuring out how to get Johnny from Point A to Point B on the Downeaster Express. But that was a classroom, on paper; this was real life, and while I could find my location and destination, the idea of connecting the dots was mystifying.

There might be something wrong with my brain.

As I stood there, just sort of staring at the schedule, thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to sit around and wait a couple hours for my aunts and uncles to arrive, a loud voice boomed from across the platform.

“Train’s comin’!”

I looked up. The voice belonged to a tall black man I had walked past when I first arrived. He was wearing paint-splattered jeans, a beat-up t-shirt, and a black baseball cap with the words “Marine Recon” on the front. I looked over at him, then back at the train schedule, then back at him. Failing to receive any last minute divine intervention that would miraculously allow me to read the map, I gave the schedule one final glance and wandered in his direction.

“Where’re you heading?” he asked.

“Camden…Camden Yards,” I mumbled.

“Got a ticket?” he asked.

“A ticket?” I answered.

He looked at me carefully, almost as if fact-checking the sincerity of my ignorance. Convinced that I did not, in fact, know what I was doing, he started walking toward the airport door about twenty feet away, the same building I had exited fifteen minutes earlier.

“Come on,” he said over his shoulder. “Gotta get a ticket.”

I paused for a second, then followed meekly; I’m usually fairly good at figuring out when someone is on the up and up, and the vibe I got from this guy was that he just wanted to help me out. Besides, we were going into a well-lit, well-populated building, so it wasn’t like I was expecting a robbery. And if he did want to take what little money I had? Well, I’d have a story to tell, now, wouldn’t I? As I started after him, he looked back.

“Got small bills? Don’t want big bills, you get all sorts of change. You need small bills.”

We entered the building, turned left, and came face to face with the ticket machine.

“Don’t wanna mess with big bills,” he repeated. “You got a dollar-sixty?”

I actually had very little cash – two twenties of my own, and a few bills my wife had given me before we left for the airport, of which two were hopefully ones – and no change at all. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my money clip (it was easier to carry my license, debit card, and cash this way instead of lugging my big huge wallet around; that thing is annoyingly large no matter how poor I am). Flipping through the bills, Murphy’s Law surged into action: those two twenties, a five, and a single one.

My new friend was watching me. He saw the twenties and repeated his mantra against big bills – “Got anything smaller?” – so I pointed to the five.

“How about a five? Will that work?”

“No, no, you don’t wanna mess with those big bills. You get all kinds of change, it’s a mess. Let me check my piggy bank.” He put the bag he was carrying down on the ground and produced a small Ziploc bag of change from which he pulled out several silver coins. “Here, give me that dollar.” He fed it into the machine, then the coins. One of them didn’t take – he looked at the machine like he wanted to give it a good whack, then thought better of it and found another coin more to its liking. When he had put the full $1.60 in, he pushed a few buttons and a ticket emerged. He handed it to me.

I thought that was the end of it. Not so; my new friend started toward the door, waving his hand at me.

“Come on,” he said. “Gotta get movin’, gotta hustle.”

I hustled, walking side by side with him onto the platform where the train waited.

“Thanks, I really appreciate you helping me out.”

He dismissed the words with a wave of his hand, still striding toward the train.

“You’re going to Camden Yards? Alright, you’re gonna get off a couple stops after me, but I’m gonna get you on board, get you set up, get you on point.” We climbed the steps. “See, you need a ticket. Don’t have a ticket, they take you right off, throw you in handcuffs.” We walked to the front of the car. He showed me the map on the wall, the same sort of map I imagine you see on just about any public transit system, a straight-line representation of the stops we would be making. Things make a lot more sense to me when they’re arranged in a linear manner – I quickly found BWI at the beginning and went down the line until I got to Camden Yards – but he still explained things to me.

“See, I’m getting off here,” he said, pointing to his stop, “and you’re getting off here. When you’re ready to get off, push the green button to open the door. It’s easy,” he said, sitting down. I sat on the opposite side of the car, a few feet away.

We exchanged small talk with a man in an adjacent seat, then settled in for the ride. My new friend busied himself with the small actions of a man who has become used to the routine: picked up a newspaper, checked a two-liter bottle of water he had in his bag, changed the blade on a utility knife he was carrying. When an officer came by to check our tickets, he caught my eye with a knowing smile.

“You don’t have a ticket,” he boomed, “they take you away in cuffs, man. Gotta have a ticket.”

As the train rolled on, I alternated between looking out the window and making mental notes about this guy so I could write about him later. He wasn’t old, but he wasn’t young either – his hair was turning white at the temples. If I had to wager a guess, I’d say he was in his late-forties, maybe early fifties, but still going strong, like he still woke up every morning and went about his business because that’s the way the world works. Don’t bitch, don’t complain, don’t slack off. Just go to work, do your eight to ten hours, come home, grab a beer, eat some dinner, watch some TV, go to bed. And if, in the middle of that, you happen to stumble upon a random dude at the train station, someone who needs a helping hand, go ahead and take a couple minutes out of your day to make sure he gets on the right path.

He kinda reminded of my dad, in a way.

Every so often he would catch my eye, point to the map on the wall, and repeat our schedule – he’d get off, then two stops later I’d get off, just push the green button to open the door – and I’d nod my understanding. The train started to fill up as we got closer to the ballpark, but he still was making sure that I was “on point.”

As his stop approached, he began to gather his things, make sure all his stuff had found its way back into his bag, that he hadn’t accidentally dropped anything. I had been thinking for at least twenty minutes, maybe longer, that I had to thank this guy, find out his name, shake his hand, so when he was ready to leave, I leaned forward in my seat and extended my hand.

“Thanks a lot, I really appreciate all your help. What’s your name?”

He said something that sounded like Diesel, then something else after it that I couldn’t understand over the noise of the train. I didn’t ask him to repeat himself; I wish I had, I’d like to know his real name. He stood and took a few steps toward the front of the car, where he gave me my final instructions he waited for the train to pull into the station.

“Remember, two more stops, then you get off. Just push the green button to open the doors.”

And with that, the train stopped, and he was gone.

Major League MVPs According To War

2010-10-22T21:38:00.004-05:00

I told myself I wasn't going to post here, there, or anywhere until at least early December, which of course made me want to post something, somewhere.

Fortunately, last weekend, my wife and son dozed off in the middle of the day, so I seized the day and made a list of who would have won past Most Valuable Player awards if the hot new advanced stat, WAR (Wins Above Replacement), was the deciding factor. If I was really awesome, I'd have a table listing the actual MVP, the WAR MVP, and both WARs. I'm not quite that awesome.

This seems like the sort of thing somebody has probably done already, but Google turned up nothing. Either way, it was fun. (Hall of Famers are in bold.)

12 - Babe Ruth (1916, 1919-21, 1923-24, 1926-31)
11 - Willie Mays (1954-55, 1957-65)
9 - Barry Bonds (1990-93, 1996, 1998, 2001-02, 2004)
8 - Honus Wagner (1900, 1902, 1905-09, 1912)
8 - Rogers Hornsby (1917, 1919, 1921-22, 1924-25, 1927, 1929)
6 – Albert Pujols (2003, 2005-10)
6 – Alex Rodriguez (1998, 2000, 2002-03, 2005, 2007)
6 - Mickey Mantle (1955-58, 1961-62)
6 - Ted Williams (1941-42, 1946-47, 1949, 1951)
6 - Ty Cobb (1907, 1909-11, 1915, 1917)
5 - Cy Young (1892, 1895-96, 1901, 1903)
4 - John Clarkson (1885, 1887, 1889, 1891)
4 - Mike Schmidt (1974, 1977, 1981, 1983)
4 - Rickey Henderson (1981, 1985, 1989-90)
4 - Ross Barnes (1871-73, 1875)
4 - Stan Musial (1943-44, 1946, 1948)
3 - Bob Gibson (1968-70)
3 - Cal Ripken Jr. (1983-84, 1991)
3 - Carl Yastrzemski (1967-68, 1970)
3 - Jackie Robinson (1949, 1951-52)
3 - Jimmie Foxx (1932-33, 1938)
3 - Joe Morgan (1973, 1975-76)
3 - Kid Nichols (1890, 1897-98)
3 - Lou Gehrig (1934-36)
3 - Pete Alexander (1915-16, 1920)
3 - Wade Boggs (1986-88)
3 - Walter Johnson (1912-13, 1918)
2 - Amos Rusie (1893-94)
2 - Arky Vaughan (1935, 1940)
2 - Bill Terry (1930-31)
2 - Bob Caruthers (1886, 1889)
2 - Bob Feller (1939-40)
2 - Carl Hubbell (1933, 1936)
2 - Gaylord Perry (1972, 1974)
2 - George Brett (1979-80)
2 - Jeff Bagwell (1994, 1999)
2 - Jim Devlin (1876-77)
2 - Jim McCormick (1880, 1882)
2 - Joe McGinnity (1903-04)
2 - Ken Griffey Jr. (1993, 1996)
2 - Lou Boudreau (1943, 1948)
2 - Mel Ott (1932, 1938)
2 - Old Hoss Radbourn (1883-84)
2 - Rod Carew (1975, 1977)
2 - Roger Clemens (1992, 1997)
2 - Rube Waddell (1902, 1905)
2 - Steve Carlton (1972, 1980)
2 - Tommy Bond (1878-79)
1 – Al Rosen (1953)
1 - Babe Adams (1913)
1 - Bert Blyleven (1973)
1 - Bill James (1914)
1 - Bob Allison (1963)
1 - Bobby Shantz (1952)
1 - Bret Saberhagen (1989)
1 - Brooks Robinson (1964)
1 - Bucky Walters (1939)
1 - Cal McVey (1874)
1 - Camilo Pascual (1959)
1 - Cap Anson (1881)
1 - Charlie Buffinton (1888)
1 - Charlie Ferguson (1886)
1 - Christy Mathewson (1910)
1 - Claude Hendrix (1914)
1 - Craig Biggio (1997)
1 - Dave Davenport (1915)
1 - Dave Winfield (1979)
1 - Dazzy Vance (1928)
1 - Dean Chance (1964)
1 - Dizzy Dean (1934)
1 - Dizzy Trout (1944)
1 - Dolf Luque (1923)
1 - Duke Snider (1956)
1 - Dwight Gooden (1985)
1 - Ed Delahanty (1899)
1 - Ed Morris (1885)
1 - Ed Walsh (1908)
1 - Eddie Collins (1914)
1 - Eddie Stanky (1950)
1 - Enos Slaughter (1942)
1 - Ernie Banks (1959)
1 - Evan Longoria (2010)
1 - Ferguson Jenkins (1971)
1 - Frank Robinson (1966)
1 - George Sisler (1922)
1 - George Stone (1906)
1 - Grady Sizemore (2006)
1 - Greg Maddux (1995)
1 - Guy Hecker (1884)
1 - Hal Carlson (1926)
1 - Hal Newhouser (1945)
1 - Harry Heilmann (1925)
1 - Hippo Vaughn (1918)
1 - Hugh Daily (1884)
1 - Ichiro Suzuki (2004)
1 - Jack Stivetts (1891)
1 - Jack Taylor (1902)
1 - Jason Giambi (2001)
1 - Jesse Burkett (1901)
1 - Jim Fregosi (1964)
1 - Joe DiMaggio (1937)
1 - Joe Mauer (2008)
1 - Joe Medwick (1937)
1 - John Valentin (1995)
1 - Kenny Lofton (1994)
1 - Kirk Gibson (1988)
1 - Mark Fidrych (1976)
1 - Matt Kilroy (1887)
1 - Mike Scott (1986)
1 - Minnie Minoso (1954)
1 - Nap Lajoie (1904)
1 - Nap Rucker (1911)
1 - Ned Garver (1950)
1 - Pedro Martinez (1999)
1 - Pete Reiser (1941)
1 - Phil Niekro (1978)
1 - Randy Johnson (1999)
1 - Reggie Jackson (1969)
1 - Robin Roberts (1953)
1 - Robin Yount (1982)
1 - Roger Maris (1960)
1 - Ron Guidry (1978)
1 - Ron Santo (1967)
1 - Ryne Sandberg (1984)
1 - Sandy Koufax (1966)
1 - Scott Stratton (1890)
1 - Silver King (1888, 1890)
1 - Steve Rogers (1982)
1 - Tim Keefe (1883)
1 - Todd Helton (2000)
1 - Tommy Holmes (1945)
1 - Tony Gwynn (1987)
1 - Warren Spahn (1947)
1 - Wilbur Wood (1971)
1 - Will Clark (1989)
1 - Will White (1882)
1 - Zack Greinke (2009)
1 - Zoilo Versalles (1965)

My Wife's Birthday Was Last Week, So I Made A Cake

2010-09-28T22:43:00.059-05:00

My wife's birthday was last week. I decided to surprise her by making a cake. This was pretty amazing because I have never, ever baked anything before.

Come on, Betty Crocker. Let's do this.

As you can probably tell, it was right around this time that I decided to start documenting my progress. Sadly, there is no picture of me wielding the mixer like a madman. God, mixing stuff is fun.

Fare thee well, sweet, sweet cake.

Hoping for the best!

And away we go!

Joey was a huge help up to this point. Really held that couch down.

It's funny how time takes FOREVER when you're waiting for something to cook.

Someday, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do a service for me...

Finally, our long national nightmare is over!

That looks like a done cake.

This knife went to the center of the cake and returned virtually clean. Even I know that means we're done.

And there it is, in all it's glory.

Now, I just need a cooling rack...

I was concerned about finding a cooling rack. So concerned that I called my mother, who became concerned herself because I was actually calling her. She told me I could use a cutting board.

Hey, I have a cutting board!

I'm much happier now!

Joey, still being remarkably helpful...

Are you ready to do me this service, Funfetti?

That cake is upside down. Pretend that concerned picture is below again, because I was.

Fixed, with the help of my trusty friends.

It's almost time.
And then that happened.

Hours later, Vicki came home from dinner with her aunt. She was surprised. It might've been because I took her picture as she walked in the front door, then made her come with me to the kitchen.

The guest of honor with her cake.

And finally, Joey decides to get up and lend a hand. Better late than never, I suppose.

Too Bad They Don't Have Little League Reunions

2010-08-10T20:45:00.003-05:00

It's been an interesting few months for the members of the 1992 Rye Dodgers Little League team.

In late May, I had a story published on ESPN.com's Page 2.

A couple weeks later, Tyler McGill, affectionately known as Crazylegs for his aggressiveness on the basepaths, made news when he walked from Boston to New York City to win tickets to the NBA Finals. (His brother, Ryan, also played for the Rye Dodgers.) He has since appeared on CBS's The Early Show several times, covering the NBA Finals, a Stephen Strasburg start, and the running of the bulls for the network.

And then, today, some awful news: Spencer Hagstrom was arrested and charged with attempted murder after he attacked someone with a hammer at a gas station. Spencer's dad, Don, was my coach every year from third through sixth grades - I rode in the back of his pickup at least once or twice (lost my hat once too), back when you were still allowed to do such a thing - and I played football with his brother, Tyler, in high school; he used to give me rides home after early morning lifting at the YMCA.

So yeah, it's been quite a year for the ol' Dodgers. I don't think I dare wonder what anyone else has been up to.

Random, Rambling, Late Night Musings

2010-08-03T01:56:00.003-05:00

I’m taking a trip to Baltimore at the end of August.

It’s the second time I’ll fly, the first time by myself. The last time I was on a plane was March 2003. My girlfriend and I went to Las Vegas for three days. When we came back, she was my fiancé. Today, she’s my wife.

Most of the flights to and from Sin City are lost to memory, but a very clear memory of my first takeoff remains. I remember sitting next to the window, watching the ground most faster as the plane picked up more and more speed, until finally we lifted off and left that ground below. Further and further below…

I remember experiencing a peaceful feeling while this happened, a feeling that I still had much to accomplish in this life. Somehow, rising into the clouds in a big metal tube, I suddenly felt that my life had meaning. It was just up to me to figure out what it was.

Seven years later, I’m married. I have a son. I’m a college graduate. I’ve worked for a professional baseball team. I’ve interviewed Erin Andrews. I once wrote a story for ESPN.com. You could say I am a relatively accomplished individual.

And I’m still searching for meaning I glimpsed seven years ago.

This is a typical night for me. Up till the wee hours of the morning, working, thinking, dreaming, wondering. What am I? Who am I? Why am I? Questions without answers, they haunt me, keep me awake, trouble my sleep.

There are times I feel like John Nash in A Beautiful Mind, the young John Nash, the one who blissfully wandered the Princeton campus, desperately seeking his one great, original idea. I read the work of Joe Posnanski, and Gary Smith, and others, and I say to myself, “I think I could do something like that.” Then I allow my mind to run free, and sure enough, brilliant stories come to pass. Well, semi-interesting stories, anyway. Compelling stories.

But then I sit down at the laptop to type, fingers poised over the keyboard, a blank white screen waiting to be filled, and nothing happens. A few words here and there. A good sentence or two. Maybe a paragraph. All those stories, all those words, lost, misplaced between my brain and my fingers. I used to fight through those blocks, sit in front of a story for hours, crafting each sentence until it looked exactly how I wanted it, but now? Now, there’s no time.

I’m taking a trip to Baltimore at the end of August. It’s a trip my brother should be taking – he bought and paid for everything, only to realize that the dates fall during his busy season at work, a time he just can’t get away. It’s a trip my father should be taking – two of his brothers are going and his sister will be there, but none of us can remember the last time our Daddy ventured out of New England. Lord, he was not born a ramblin’ man.

So instead, it becomes the trip I’m taking. I’ll fly using someone else’s plane ticket, stay in someone else’s hotel room, and spend time with someone else’s brothers.

All I can hope is that as the plane glides down the runway and lifts off into the wild blue yonder, I get something that belongs only to me. All I want is that flash of clarity again, that sensation that no, Brian, you’re not alone, and yes, there is a reason you’re here, on this earth, in this place, at this time. I want to hear that little voice in the back of my head that tells me to just keep working, keep thinking, keep dreaming, keep wondering, keep trying, and someday this will all make sense.

No, I’m afraid I’ve misspoken. I don’t want all that.

I fucking need all that.

New England Patriots Kickers

2010-01-07T16:47:00.002-05:00

My father-in-law's friend George asked me a question the other night: who was the Patriots kicker before Adam Vinatieri? I remembered that it was Matt Bahr (he definitely gets bonus points for being able to throw Scott "Missin" Sisson into the mix), and the question prompted me to visit Pro-Football-Reference.com and see who else has kicked for the Pats through the years. I chose to include everyone who ever attempted a kick for the team. Anyone who played for two or more seasons is listed in a separate section.

2006-09: Stephen Gostkowski
1996-2005: Adam Vinatieri
1993-95: Matt Bahr
1991-92: Charlie Baumann
1988-91: Jason Staurovsky
1984-87: Tony Franklin
1974-83: John Smith
1970-72: Charlie Gogolak
1960-70: Gino Cappelletti

2005: Doug Flutie
1994: Pat O’Neill
1993: Scott Sisson
1989: Greg Davis
1988: Teddy Garcia
1987: Eric Schubert
1983: Fred Steinfort
1983: Joaquin Zendejas
1982: Dan Miller
1982: Rex Robinson
1978: David Posey
1978: Nick Lowery
1976: Steve Zabel
1973: Jeff White
1973: Bill Bell
1972: Mike Walker
1967: Justin Canale
1960: Jim Crawford
1960: Walt Cudzik

Reverse Survivor: This Is The End

2009-12-05T22:28:00.003-05:00

I forgot that Western Kentucky played its final football game of the season on Thursday, which is just as well because it meant that I was excited about checking the score while away from my computer all day Saturday. A win meant Eastern Michigan would have the Reverse Survivor title all to itself; a loss meant the Hilltoppers would break through and win a share of their first championship after contending for the past two seasons.

The result: Western Kentucky led 20-10 after three quarters, fifteen minutes away from the first win of the season, but gave up two touchdowns in the final six minutes to lose, 24-20. It was the final game in the seven season tenure of coach Dave Elson, who will be replaced by Stanford assistant Willie Taggart.

So for the second time in the four year history of Reverse Survivor, we have a double winner (Florida International and Duke split the honors in 2006). It was probably the most exciting season ever, with several teams making winless runs late into the season before taking themselves off the board with dramatic wins.

Congratulations to the champions!

Reverse Survivor: One Winner Down...

2009-11-30T19:01:00.006-05:00

I don't have much time - real work beckons - so this will be short and sweet.

On Friday, Eastern Michigan lost to Akron, finishing the season 0-12 and guaranteeing itself at least a share of the 2009 Reverse Survivor title. Western Kentucky could have put them away the next day with a win over Florida Atlantic, but the "Fighting Schnellenbergers" didn't cooperate, grinding out a tough 29-23 victory.

Western Kentucky is 0-11 with one game remaining, a Thursday night home game against Arkansas State. A loss will give the Hilltoppers a share of the Reverse Survivor crown after a near-miss last year; a win takes them off the hook and leaves all the glory to the Emus.

I can hardly stand the excitement.

Reverse Survivor: Picking Your Moment

2009-11-23T21:21:00.003-05:00

After a three-point road loss to San Diego State on Halloween dropped New Mexico's record to 0-8 on the season, the team had to realize that it had backed itself into an almost inescapable corner. In stark contrast to the Lobos' nightmare campaign, the rest of the Mountain West is enjoying an exceptional season - of the team's four remaining opponents after that loss, three were nationally ranked (Utah, Brigham Young, and TCU).

Predictably, the Lobos of Locksley were blown out on the road by Utah, 45-14, to fall to 0-9. They surprised some people the next week, though, playing Brigham Young tough in a 24-19 loss. In fact, New Mexico probably should have walked away with the win, but its kicker, James Aho, had an awful day. Aho, a 20-year-old sophomore from Roswell, missed three field goals and an extra point, ten points that marked the difference between victory and defeat.

Fast forward to this week, New Mexico's last real chance to get themselves out of that corner. The opponent was Colorado State. The Rams won their first three games of the season, beating Colorado, Weber State, and Nevada, but a loss to Brigham Young on September 26 was the catalyst for a string of seven straight defeats. After the Rams, unbeaten and virtually untouchable TCU loomed on the horizon. Mike Locksley's pregame speech probably went something like, "Um, let's win this week, fellas. Because, um...let's just win this week."

Again, the game wasn't decided until the fourth quarter. Colorado State returned an interception early in the quarter for a 27-23 lead. Three minutes later, Aho nailed his second three-pointer the game to cut the margin to one. The Rams took the ball back and marched down the field, 67 yards in seven plays, six runs and a pass, all of them involving John Mosure. On the seventh play, from the New Mexico five, Mosure took the handoff, and fumbled. The Lobos took it 54 yards in under two minutes before being forced to punt, but the defense was invigorated. Mosure had carried the ball 24 times for 179 yards. He was handed the rock three times, gathered negative-two yards, and watched from the sidelines as Pete Kontodiakos launched a 27-yard punt.

Could there have been any doubt after that? Donovan Porterie took the ball with 1:32 on the clock and brought his team 35 yards in the next seventy seconds. With fifteen seconds left and the game on the line, who came onto the field to win it or lose it for New Mexico? James Aho, of course, who followed up the worst day of his football career with the best, nailing a 27-yarder to give his team its first win of the season, 29-27.

That's what Reverse Survivor is all about, folks - a bunch of guys who hadn't tasted victory all season (in thirteen months, actually, dating back to last season) working together to scratch and claw and fight and earn themselves a victory. I'm proud of them.

New Mexico's win leaves just two teams remaining in Reverse Survivor: Eastern Michigan and Western Kentucky. The Eagles (why are they not named the Emus?) travel to Akron on Friday afternoon for the season finale; the Hilltoppers get two more shots: Saturday at Florida Atlantic and the following Thursday on a short week against Arkansas State. Eastern Michigan is 2-20 against FBS opponents in the past two seasons; Western Kentucky has lost its last 24 games against FBS opponents (many of those while transitioning from Division 1AA/FCS), its last win coming over Middle Tennessee State on September 20, 2007.

(My favorite fact about Western Kentucky, aside from the fact that they won the 2002 Division 1AA national championship? They used to play West Virginia Tech, an NAIA school, every other year. The last three times the two teams met, when Western Kentucky was a national power and moving up a division, the combined score was 217-6. That's not a typo.)

By this time next week, we may have at least one Reverse Survivor champion. I leave you with Andrew's words of wisdom regarding the final two, possibly for the last time this season:

Eastern Michigan: Fun fact about their opponent's quarterback. His name is Pat Nicely, which is also how a Minnesota cop deals with a perp.

Western Kentucky: [Andrew is refusing to comment further on Western Kentucky due to the fact he's said all he can about the ineptitude of the Red Drink. They had their last best chance. See if you can't get yourself some three star recruits when you start over.]

Reverse Survivor: Special Teams Are Important

2009-11-15T10:34:00.004-05:00

We came incredibly close to having an overall winner this week, with one school winning its first game and two others putting themselves in good position for a W but falling just short.

Rice led Tulane heading into the fourth quarter, 21-14, when Ryan Griffin's third touchdown pass of the game for the Green Wave cut the score to 21-20. The kicker missed the extra point, however, and the Owls defense forced four-and-outs on two of Tulane's final three possessions to seal the win. Griffin's game-ending streak of ten consecutive incompletions notwithstanding, the game featured solid quarterback play: Griffin was 24-41 for 261 yards and three touchdowns, while Rice's Nick Fanuzzi was 15-24 for 214 yards and four touchdowns.

New Mexico and Western Kentucky both could have won but instead found themselves lamenting tight losses. The Hilltoppers held an 18-14 lead midway through the fourth quarter before Louisiana-Monroe scored a touchdown for the 21-18 win. The three point loss was made especially difficult by the fact that kicker Casey Tinius made four of his five field goal attempts - he missed a 46-yarder early, on the team's first drive, that ended up being the deciding score.

The Lobos had even worse luck with the kicking game. James Aho missed three field goals and an extra point, a ten-point swing that directly affected the outcome of the game. It doesn't make it any easier on New Mexico, but the tight game has to give them some confidence heading into the last two weeks against Colorado State and undefeated TCU.

Eastern Michigan (0-10, 0-6 Mid-American Conference West)

Last Game
November 14 – lost to Western Michigan, 35-14

Key Points
Points For/Against: 155/384
Average Margin of Defeat: 22.9 points
Worst Loss: 48 points (October 10 @ Central Michigan, 56-8)
Closest Loss: 2 points (October 24 vs. Ball State, 29-27)

Upcoming Schedule
November 20 (Fri) @ Toledo (4-6)
November 27 (Fri) @ Akron (2-8)

Andrew Says…
"I sympathize with Andre Hatchett. He's on a team with an offense that can't keep him off the field. He's got to play like he's the first level because of the poor defense. And fun fact? His last name is awesome. He deserves better."

New Mexico (0-10, 0-6 Mountain West Conference)

Last Game
November 7 – lost to Brigham Young, 24-19

Key Points
Points For/Against: 157/353
Average Margin of Defeat: 19.6 points
Worst Loss: 35 points (September 5 @ Texas A&M, 41-6)
Closest Loss: 3 points (September 26 vs. New Mexico State, 20-17)

Upcoming Schedule
November 21 vs. Colorado State (3-7)
November 28 @ TCU (10-0)

Andrew Says…
"It all comes down to this. You either win this week or you tie for reverse surivor. Donovan Porterie? This is your must win game."

Western Kentucky (0-10, 0-6 Sun Belt Conference)

Last Game
November 14 – lost to Louisiana-Monroe, 21-18

Key Points
Points For/Against: 202/422
Average Margin of Defeat: 22.0 points
Worst Loss: 56 points (September 5 @ Tennessee, 63-7)
Closest Loss: 3 points (November 14 @ Louisiana-Monroe, 21-18)

Upcoming Schedule
November 28 @ Florida Atlantic (3-6)
December 3 (Thurs) vs. Arkansas State (2-7)

Andrew Says…
"If you are interested? Please contact the proprietor of this blog for a free Grape Job sticker for the noble effort you put out."

Reverse Survivor: Maintaining the Status Quo

2009-11-09T22:17:00.003-05:00

I had ample time yesterday to put the finishing touches on this week's Reverse Survivor and post it, but I never got around to it. Why? Karma knew that today would bring big, relevant news, I suppose.

Western Kentucky fired coach David Elson after a seven year run that included a 39-41 record and a move from Division 1-AA to Division 1-A. (Pop quiz: who knew that Western Kentucky won the Division 1-AA national championship in 2002? Anybody? I am amazed by this, and I've been following them for three years now.) Of course, that won-lost mark once stood at 39-24 before the Hilltoppers' embarked on their current 17-game losing streak. The latest came on Saturday, 40-20, to Troy. Like last week, they were tied at the half; like last week, they blew up in the second half to take the loss.

Nobody fell off the radar this week. Only Rice was close, with a narrow loss to the SMU Mustangs. The Owls have two more chances before a tough season finale against Houston. Their road pales in comparison to New Mexico's, however; the Lobos get to face Brigham Young and TCU in two of the season's final three weeks.

Rice (0-9, 0-5 Conference USA West)

Last Game
November 7 – lost to Southern Methodist, 31-28

Key Points
Points For/Against: 147/395
Average Margin of Defeat: 27.6 points
Worst Loss: 49 points (October 10 vs. Navy, 63-14))
Closest Loss: 3 points (November 7 @ Southern Methodist)

Upcoming Schedule
November 14 vs. Tulane (3-6)
November 21 vs. UTEP (3-6)
November 28 @ Houston (8-1)

Andrew Says…
"After Tulane held off the Buck-Ram of UTEP, they may be overconfident, but I doubt it."

Eastern Michigan (0-9, 0-5 Mid-American Conference West)

Last Game
November 5 – lost to Northern Illinois, 50-6

Key Points
Points For/Against: 141/349
Average Margin of Defeat: 23.1 points
Worst Loss: 48 points (October 10 @ Central Michigan, 56-8)
Closest Loss: 2 points (October 24 vs. Ball State, 29-27)

Upcoming Schedule
November 14 vs. Western Michigan (4-6)
November 20 (Fri) @ Toledo (4-5)
November 27 (Fri) @ Akron (2-7)

Andrew Says…
"Circle November 27th on your calendar. You have a team with reasonable expectations that has cratered. And this is your only shot to win. Because Akron broke really badly, see."

New Mexico (0-9, 0-5 Mountain West Conference)

Last Game
November 7 – lost to Utah, 45-14

Key Points
Points For/Against: 138/329
Average Margin of Defeat: 21.2 points
Worst Loss: 35 points (September 5 @ Texas A&M, 41-6)
Closest Loss: 3 points (September 26 vs. New Mexico State, 20-17)

Upcoming Schedule
November 14 vs. Brigham Young (7-2)
November 21 vs. Colorado State (3-7)
November 28 @ TCU (9-0)

Andrew Says…
"Locksley better have negotiated a prohibitively expensive buyout clause. Because Year One was a firable offense. And Colorado State may be 3-7, but they have two weeks to prepare for this game. The Rams will give the Lobos their best."

Western Kentucky (0-9, 0-5 Sun Belt Conference)

Last Game
November 7 – lost to Troy, 40-20

Key Points
Points For/Against: 184/401
Average Margin of Defeat: 24.1 points
Worst Loss: 56 points (September 5 @ Tennessee, 63-7)
Closest Loss: 16 points (September 26 @ Navy, 28-12)

Upcoming Schedule
November 14 @ Louisiana-Monroe (5-4)
November 28 @ Florida Atlantic (2-6)
December 3 (Thurs) vs. Arkansas State (2-6)

Andrew Says…
"I do sympathize with David Elson, he subjected himself to an embarrassing viral video in an effort to get his fanbase hyped for 2009."

Reverse Survivor: Close, But No Cigar

2009-11-01T13:37:00.003-05:00

First order of business: Miami of Ohio.

There are teams that fit the Reverse Survivor mold year in and year out (Florida International), teams that may once have been national powers (Washington), and teams that never really seem to belong in the competition.

The RedHawks fit squarely into that third category. For whatever reason, it never felt like they were supposed to be here, with the Western Kentucky's and Eastern Michigan's and New Mexico's. And now, they're not, thanks to a 31-24 win over Toledo on Saturday. Zac Dysert led the way with over 400 yards of total offense (60 on the ground, 344 through the air) and Miami built a 24-7 lead by halftime. The Rockets put up 17 in the third quarter to close to within seven, but the fourth quarter was scoreless and the RedHawks held on for the win.

Miami almost had some company on its way off the door as Western Kentucky matched North Texas point for point through three quarters. In the end, though, the Mean Grean's offensive attack was too much, rolling up nineteen unanswered points in the fourth quarter en route to a video game-esque 68-49 romp. Quarterback Riley Dodge led the way with a remarkable seven total touchdowns - four through the air and three more on the ground.

New Mexico also came close before allowing a late touchdown that allowed San Diego State to walk away with the 23-20 win. The Lobos are in SERIOUS trouble - three of their last four opponents are nationally ranked, including the next two. They get Colorado State in three weeks, but matchups against 7-1 Utah and 6-2 Brigham Young might leave them 0-10 and in no mood to deal with the Rams.

Please note: Eastern Michigan plays on Thursday this week, against Northern Illinois.

Rice (0-8, 0-4 Conference USA West)

Last Game
October 24 – lost to UCF, 49-7

Key Points
Points For/Against: 119/364
Average Margin of Defeat: 30.6 points
Worst Loss: 49 points (October 10 vs. Navy, 63-14))
Closest Loss: 17 points (September 19 @ Oklahoma State, 41-24; October 3 vs. Tulsa, 27-10)
Offense: 299.1 YPG (211.4 passing, 87.8 rushing), 14 TD
Defense: 469.6 YPG (259.9 passing, 209.8 rushing), 46 TD

Upcoming Schedule
November 7 @ Southern Methodist
November 14 vs. Tulane
November 21 vs. UTEP
November 28 @ Houston

Andrew Says...
"They need to scare the would be freshman sensation Kyle Padron if they are to get away from Reverse Survivor."

Eastern Michigan (0-8, 0-4 Mid-American Conference West)

Last Game
October 31 – lost to Arkansas, 63-27

Key Points
Points For/Against: 135/299
Average Margin of Defeat: 20.5 points
Worst Loss: 48 points (October 10 @ Central Michigan, 56-8)
Closest Loss: 2 points (October 24 vs. Ball State, 29-27)
Offense: 275.6 YPG (151.8 passing, 123.9 rushing), 16 TD
Defense: 399.4 YPG (146.0 passing, 277.1 rushing), 37 TD

Upcoming Schedule
November 5 (Thurs) @ Northern Illinois
November 14 vs. Western Michigan
November 20 (Fri) @ Toledo
November 27 (Fri) @ Akron

Andrew Says...

"The fun fact about Eastern Michigan? Their 4th quarter touchdown allowed for a miraculous cover of the spread after being down 63-0."

New Mexico (0-8, 0-4 Mountain West Conference)

Last Game
October 31 – lost to San Diego State, 23-20

Key Points
Points For/Against: 124/284
Average Margin of Defeat: 20.0 points
Worst Loss: 35 points (September 5 @ Texas A&M, 41-6)
Closest Loss: 3 points (September 26 vs. New Mexico State, 20-17)
Offense: 306.4 YPG (212.3 passing, 94.1 rushing), 12 TD
Defense: 413.5 YPG (252.4 passing, 161.1 rushing), 35 TD

Upcoming Schedule
November 7 @ Utah
November 14 vs. Brigham Young
November 21 vs. Colorado State
November 28 @ TCU

Andrew Says...
"The luckiest break of this nightmare season for the head coach? His buyout is too expensive for him to get fired for being the other winner of Reverse survivor, as well as his off-field tomfoolery."

Western Kentucky (0-8, 0-4 Sun Belt Conference)

Last Game
October 31 – lost to North Texas, 68-49

Key Points
Points For/Against: 164/361
Average Margin of Defeat: 24.6 points
Worst Loss: 56 points (September 5 @ Tennessee, 63-7)
Closest Loss: 16 points (September 26 @ Navy, 28-12)
Offense: 306.5 YPG (137.9 passing, 168.6 rushing), 22 TD
Defense: 518.1 YPG (245.3 passing, 273.1 rushing), 47 TD

Upcoming Schedule
November 7 vs. Troy
November 14 @ Louisiana-Monroe
November 28 @ Florida Atlantic
December 3 (Thurs) vs. Arkansas State

Andrew Says...
"Those of us suffering from depression need to take stock in the plight of the Red Drink. They show you your world could be worse."

Goodbye, Old Friend

2009-10-29T19:11:00.004-05:00

I hadn't talked to John Meredith in at least ten years, other than to exchange brief hellos at my friend Matt's college graduation, and I had no plans to speak to him again any time soon. But that still doesn't change the fact that for much of my freshman year of college, he was my best friend.

I can't remember exactly how or when Big John and I met at Western New England College in the fall of 1998. It was probably in the game room of Berkshire Hall, where we both lived, Big John on the third floor, me on the fourth. My roommate was a partier, I wasn't, and there wasn't anything to do in my room besides stare at the wall, so much of my free time was spent in the game room, with its wall-mounted television, vending machines, reasonably comfortable couches, and beat-up old pool table. John used to hang out there too, and it makes sense that I would've been drawn to the 6'6", 350-pound with the booming voice and generally cheerful demeanor.

We bonded over pizza, A-Plus, and Homicide. The local Domino's ran a special designed to bring in the college crowd - three large pizzas for $20, and the two of us would routinely call them up, head down to the game room, and wait. When they arrived, John and I would each grab one, racing to see who could finish it off first (I was ten inches shorter and 140 pounds lighter, but I held my own). The battle would inevitably end with both of us sitting there, holding our stomachs, wondering why we were doing this to ourselves...followed by John busting into a big smile as he lifted the top of the third box a few minutes later. We'd stay there into the early hours of the morning, or maybe take a walk over to the A-Plus convenience store, until Homicide (one of the finest shows, featuring one of the finest actors, Andre Braugher, on television) reruns came on at two a.m.

I attended my first live concert with Big John that year when he dragged me to a country show in Worcester, it must've been, with one of his visiting friends from back home in New York. The Dixie Chicks and another artist opened for Clay Walker, if I'm remembering it right, and one of the solo acts surprised me by climbing into the seats, right there among the fans. We sat to the right of the stage and had a pretty good view. Despite my general distaste for most country music, I had a good time.

John was also indirectly responsible for the history degree I eventually received from the University of New Hampshire in 2003. He was a government major from the beginning (his ultimate life goal was to be President of the United States) and I had sort of fallen into general business, but as freshmen we both had to work on our general education requirements. John decided to take a history class and suggested that I join him. The teacher, John Baick, was so engaging and presented the subject matter in such a regimented manner (every class started with an outline on the board for notes) that it wasn't long before I realized that history, not business, was where I wanted to be.

And that wasn't all that John helped with in that class. It was held relatively early, twice a week at 9:30 a.m., and I am most certainly not a morning person (yet every job I've had for the past six years has required me to be to work before 9 a.m. Go figure). So before every class, John would come up to the fourth floor and bang on my door until I woke up. It wasn't always as easy as it sounds: I clearly remember one time when I woke up to his insistent knock and realized that I had overslept; jumped out of bed and into some clean clothes; realized that John had already left and and ran for class on my own. Once there, I sarcastically thanked him for waiting for me - he informed me that he had pounded on my door for fifteen minutes, raising the ire of my neighbors, before leaving so he wouldn't be too late. Whoops.

Over time, John and I stopped hanging out. I don't know exactly why - we just did. And aside from one time last year when I randomly Googled him to see what he was up to these days (surprise - he was involved in local politics), I honestly hadn't thought about my old friend very often.

Today, though, I was looking through status updates on Facebook when I saw something that Dan Wystepek, another WNEC classmate, had posted: " John "Big John" Meredith...RIP...you'll always be remembered! 11-14-79 to 10-26-09". A lot of people had commented already, and reading through some links, some details came out: John had recently been diagnosed with a brain tumor, got sick just before a scheduled surgery to relieve pressure on his brain, and died on Monday.

I couldn't believe it when I heard, and I'm still having a hard time with it. The news of John's death makes me think of the good times we shared, all those years ago, and it's sad to think that he's really gone.

Reverse Survivor: The Game of the Century

2009-10-26T18:37:00.004-05:00

Big-time college football is all about its big games. "Game of the Week"..."Game of the Year"..."Game of the Decade"..."Game of the Century"..."Game of the Millennium"...and that's just this season.

Well, it's no stretch to suggest that Reverse Survivor had it's "Game of the FOR-EV-ER" this weekend when the Ball State Cardinals and Eastern Michigan Eagles squared off in Ypsilanti. The Eagles led 20-13 at halftime and extended that to 27-13 early in the third quarter, but Ball State scored the final 16 points of the game, all in the third quarter, to eke out a 29-27 win.

The numbers behind the final score were the best part of the game by far, however. Ball State quarterback Tanner Justice completed just two of ten passes for a total of one yard (one completion went for eight yards, the other for minus seven). Fortunately, the running backs were there to pick up the slack: MiQuale Lewis carried 26 times for 301 yards and a touchdown and Cory Sykes carried 23 times for 203 yards and three scores. And, not to be outdone, the special teams unit blocked a punt that went out of the end zone for a safety that ended up being the final margin of victory.

This week's Almost Game of the Century comes from the Sun Belt Conference, as winless Western Kentucky travels to Denton, Texas to take on the 1-6 Mean Green of the University of North Texas. The Hilltoppers better hope they can take advantage of the Green's generous defense - this could be their last chance at a victory for a long, long time.

Rice (0-8, 0-4 Conference USA West)

Last Game
October 24 – lost to UCF, 49-7

Key Points
Points For/Against: 119/364
Average Margin of Defeat: 30.6 points
Worst Loss: 49 points (October 10 vs. Navy, 63-14))
Closest Loss: 17 points (September 19 @ Oklahoma State, 41-24; October 3 vs. Tulsa, 27-10)
Offense: 299.1 YPG (211.4 passing, 87.8 rushing), 14 TD
Defense: 469.6 YPG (259.9 passing, 209.8 rushing), 46 TD

Upcoming Schedule
November 7 @ Southern Methodist
November 14 vs. Tulane
November 21 vs. UTEP
November 28 @ Houston

Andrew Says...
"Poor Robert Calhoun, he is alone with crap surrounding him. And they are exploiting his non-suck with an overpriced replica jersey."

Miami of Ohio (0-8, 0-4 Mid-American Conference East)

Last Game
October 24 – lost to Northern Illinois, 27-22

Key Points
Points For/Against: 93/275
Average Margin of Defeat: 22.8 points
Worst Loss: 48 points (September 12 @ Boise State, 48-0)
Closest Loss: 5 points (October 24 vs. Northern Illinois, 27-22)
Offense: 316.0 YPG (244.6 passing, 71.4 rushing), 13 TD
Defense: 370.3 YPG (193.1 passing, 177.1 rushing), 33 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 31 vs. Toledo
November 5 (Thurs) @ Temple
November 12 (Thurs) vs. Bowling Green
November 18 (Wed) vs. Buffalo

Andrew Says...
"Fun Fact, their Kick Returner is named Lucas Swift. He is not."

Eastern Michigan (0-7, 0-4 Mid-American Conference West)

Last Game
October 24 – lost to Ball State, 29-27

Key Points
Points For/Against: 108/236
Average Margin of Defeat: 18.3 points
Worst Loss: 48 points (October 10 @ Central Michigan, 56-8)
Closest Loss: 2 points (October 24 vs. Ball State, 29-27)
Offense: 265.3 YPG (136.4 passing, 128.9 rushing), 12 TD
Defense: 399.4 YPG (124.4 passing, 275.0 rushing), 30 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 31 @ Arkansas
November 5 (Thurs) @ Northern Illinois
November 14 vs. Western Michigan
November 20 (Fri) @ Toledo
November 27 (Fri) @ Akron

Andrew Says...
"If Ball State can run you over? The Bobby Petrino Supersystem will eat your babies."

New Mexico (0-7, 0-3 Mountain West Conference)

Last Game
October 24 – lost to UNLV, 34-17

Key Points
Points For/Against: 104/261
Average Margin of Defeat: 22.4 points
Worst Loss: 35 points (September 5 @ Texas A&M, 41-6)
Closest Loss: 3 points (September 26 vs. New Mexico State, 20-17)
Offense: 295.0 YPG (203.0 passing, 92.0 rushing), 10 TD
Defense: 429.3 YPG (252.3 passing, 177.0 rushing), 32 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 31 @ San Diego State
November 7 @ Utah
November 14 vs. Brigham Young
November 21 vs. Colorado State
November 28 @ TCU

Andrew Says...
"I can't see how they win. I just can't."

Western Kentucky (0-7, 0-3 Sun Belt Conference)

Last Game
October 24 – lost to Middle Tennessee, 62-24

Key Points
Points For/Against: 115/293
Average Margin of Defeat: 25.4 points
Worst Loss: 56 points (September 5 @ Tennessee, 63-7)
Closest Loss: 16 points (September 26 @ Navy, 28-12)
Offense: 289.6 YPG (137.0 passing, 152.6 rushing), 15 TD
Defense: 509.1 YPG (242.9 passing, 266.3 rushing), 38 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 31 @ North Texas
November 7 vs. Troy
November 14 @ Louisiana-Monroe
November 28 @ Florida Atlantic
December 3 (Thurs) vs. Arkansas State

Andrew Says...
"I sympathize, Dwight Dasher is an awesome name for a dual threat QB. I would not want to stop him either."

Reverse Survivor: Farewell, Fighting Schnellenbergers

2009-10-21T17:56:00.004-05:00

We've moved past the point in the Reverse Survivor cycle where multiple teams are removed weekly and into the time of year where maybe one or two teams a week earn a win and exit the competition.

This week's departure was Florida Atlantic, Andrew's Fighting Schnellenbergers, which pulled off a wild 44-40 road win over conference rival North Texas. The Owls trailed 19-7 before pulling a Tom Brady and scoring 30 unanswered points to take a 37-19 lead. Fortunately, the defense was willing to make a game of it, allowing the Mean Green to go on a 21-0 run of their own. Florida Atlantic came right back, however, scoring the deciding touchdown with less than two minutes to play.

Alfred Morris had 147 yards and two touchdowns, including the game-winner, for Florida Atlantic. North Texas's Lance Dunbar ran for 238 and three scores.

Another team is guaranteed to leave Reverse Survivor next week following the matchup between Ball State and Eastern Michigan. And against Western Kentucky in ten days, North Texas could impact the competition for the third time: in addition to last Saturday's loss, the Mean Green opened the season with a win against Ball State against Ball State.

Rice (0-7, 0-3 Conference USA West)

Last Game
October 17 – lost to East Carolina, 49-13

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 29 points
Worst Loss: 49 points (October 10 vs. Navy, 63-14))
Closest Loss: 17 points (September 19 @ Oklahoma State, 41-24; October 3 vs. Tulsa, 27-10)
Offense: 301.6 YPG (216.1 passing, 85.4 rushing), 13 TD
Defense: 470.3 YPG (261.0 passing, 209.3 rushing), 40 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 24 vs. UCF
October 31 BYE
November 7 @ Southern Methodist
November 14 vs. Tulane
November 21 vs. UTEP
November 28 @ Houston

Andrew Says...
”They should call James Casey the rat, because he sensed a sinking ship.”

Miami of Ohio (0-7, 0-3 Mid-American Conference East)

Last Game
October 17 – lost to Ohio, 28-7

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 25.3 points
Worst Loss: 48 points (September 12 @ Boise State, 48-0)
Closest Loss: 10 points (September 26 @ Kent State, 29-19; October 10 @ Northwestern, 16-6)
Offense: 313.0 YPG (229.9 passing, 83.1 rushing), 10 TD
Defense: 385.7 YPG (212.1 passing, 173.6 rushing), 31 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 24 vs. Northern Illinois
October 31 vs. Toledo
November 5 (Thurs) @ Temple
November 12 (Thurs) vs. Bowling Green
November 18 (Wed) vs. Buffalo

Andrew Says...
”Could very well go into their final game needing a win to get off the Reverse Survivor.”

Ball State (0-7, 0-3 Mid-American Conference West)

Last Game
October 17 – lost to Bowling Green, 34-17

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 10.6 points
Worst Loss: 24 points (September 26 @ Auburn, 54-30)
Closest Loss: 5 points (October 10 @ Temple, 24-19)
Offense: 296.4 YPG (174.9 passing, 121.6 rushing), 14 TD
Defense: 412.1 YPG (253.7 passing, 158.4 rushing), 26 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 24 @ Eastern Michigan
October 31 vs. Ohio
November 12 (Thurs) @ Northern Illinois
November 18 (Wed) vs. Central Michigan
November 24 (Tues) @ Western Michigan

Andrew Says...
”More like Ball Suck.”

Eastern Michigan (0-6, 0-3 Mid-American Conference West)

Last Game
October 17 – lost to Kent State, 28-6

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 21 points
Worst Loss: 48 points (October 10 @ Central Michigan, 56-8)
Closest Loss: 3 points (September 12 @ Northwestern, 27-24)
Offense: 269.7 YPG (144.8 passing, 124.8 rushing), 9 TD
Defense: 388.7 YPG (145.0 passing, 243.7 rushing), 26 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 24 vs. Ball State
October 31 @ Arkansas
November 5 (Thurs) @ Northern Illinois
November 14 vs. Western Michigan
November 20 (Fri) @ Toledo
November 27 (Fri) @ Akron

Andrew Says...
”I think this is the week they say good bye.”

New Mexico (0-5, 0-1 Mountain West Conference)

Last Game
October 17 - Idle

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 23.3
Worst Loss: 35 points (September 5 @ Texas A&M, 41-6)
Closest Loss: 3 points (September 26 vs. New Mexico State, 20-17)
Offense: 296.3 YPG (200.3 pass, 96.0 run), 8 TD
Defense: 430.3 YPG (258.8 pass, 171.5 run), 28 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 24 vs. UNLV
October 31 @ San Diego State
November 7 @ Utah
November 14 vs. Brigham Young
November 21 vs. Colorado State
November 28 @ TCU

Andrew Says...
”This is the circle the wagon game. If don't beat UNLV? They're in trouble.”

Western Kentucky (0-6, 0-2 Sun Belt Conference)

Last Game
October 17 – lost to Louisiana-Lafayette, 30-22

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat:
Worst Loss: 56 points (September 5 @ Tennessee, 63-7)
Closest Loss: 16 points (September 26 @ Navy, 28-12)
Offense: 296.2 YPG (134.8 passing, 161.3 rushing), 12 TD
Defense: 486.3 YPG (213.8 passing, 272.5 rushing), 30 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 24 @ Middle Tennessee
October 31 @ North Texas
November 7 vs. Troy
November 14 @ Louisiana-Monroe
November 28 @ Florida Atlantic
December 3 (Thurs) vs. Arkansas State

Andrew Says...
”They gave a noble effort, but the fact of the matter is there isn't a game that you would not feel right stunned of they even lost by 7 the rest of the way.”

Reverse Survivor: Farewell, Golden Panthers

2009-10-11T16:52:00.005-05:00

Every year, at least two Reverse Survivor contenders emerge from the Sun Belt Conference. This time around was no different - as we entered the weekend, three of the remaining eight teams were Sun Belt representatives. Florida Atlantic had the week off and so was guaranteed to fight another week; the other two, inaugural co-winner Florida International and perennial contender Western Kentucky, were slated to square off in an epic battle for supremacy on Saturday.

It was a close game into the second half - 17-14 after Western Kentucky's Kawaun Jakes ran one in from ten yards out about three and a half minutes into the third quarter. Just about ninety seconds later, however, Jason Frierson reeled in a forty-yard touchdown from Paul McCall, the first of twenty straight points for the Golden Panthers.

And so, thanks to that magnificent second-half rally, we say goodbye to the Florida International Golden Panthers. If not for that magical first Reverse Survivor season in which they shared the championship with Duke, they would be the epitome of the phrase, "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride."

Seven teams are left at the end of six weeks, including two from the Sun Belt. All except New Mexico will be in action next week, and the potentially important matchup between Ball State and Eastern Michigan remains intact for another week.

Once again, the esteemed Andrew was kind enough to contribute his thoughts on each team.

1. Rice (0-6, 0-2 Conference USA West)

Last Game
October 10 - lost to Navy, 63-14

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 27.8
Worst Loss: 49 points (October 10 vs. Navy, 63-14))
Closest Loss: 17 points (September 19 @ Oklahoma State, 41-24; October 3 vs. Tulsa, 27-10)
Offense: 295.0 YPG (208.3 pass, 86.7 run), 12 TD
Defense: 472.2 YPG (256.8 pass, 215.3 run), 34 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 17 @ East Carolina
October 24 vs. UCF
October 31 BYE
November 7 @ Southern Methodist
November 14 vs. Tulane
November 21 vs. UTEP
November 28 @ Houston

Andrew Says...
"It's the Northwestern of the South. Without all the seven win seasons."

2. Miami of Ohio (0-6, 0-2 Mid-American Conference East)

Last Game
October 10 - lost to Northwestern, 16-6

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 26.0
Worst Loss: 48 points (September 12 @ Boise State, 48-0)
Closest Loss: 10 points (September 26 @ Kent State, 29-19; October 10 @ Northwestern, 16-6)
Offense: 328.8 YPG (240.5 pass, 88.3 run), 9 TD
Defense: 383.7 YPG (218.8 pass, 164.8 run), 27 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 17 @ Ohio
October 24 vs. Northern Illinois
October 31 vs. Toledo
November 5 (Thurs) @ Temple
November 12 (Thurs) vs. Bowling Green
November 18 (Wed) vs. Buffalo

Andrew Says...
"Daniel Rudabaugh has a vaguely herbivorish surname. Apparently, his game's gone vegetable too."

3. Ball State (0-6, 0-2 Mid-American Conference West)

Last Game
October 10 - lost to Temple, 24-19

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 10
Worst Loss: 24 points (September 26 @ Auburn, 54-30)
Closest Loss: 5 points (October 10 @ Temple, 24-19)
Offense: 278.5 YPG (182.2 pass, 96.3 run), 12 TD
Defense: 405.0 YPG (233.3 pass, 171.7 run), 22 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 17 vs. Bowling Green
October 24 @ Eastern Michigan
October 31 vs. Ohio
November 12 (Thurs) @ Northern Illinois
November 18 (Wed) vs. Central Michigan
November 24 (Tues) @ Western Michigan

Andrew Says...
"The team decided that they would not give most famous alumnus David Letterman any aid or comfort."

4. Eastern Michigan (0-5, 0-2 Mid-American Conference West)

Last Game
October 10 - lost to Central Michigan, 56-8

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 20.8
Worst Loss: 48 points (October 10 @ Central Michigan, 56-8)
Closest Loss: 3 points (September 12 @ Northwestern, 27-24)
Offense: 272.6 YPG (158.8 pass, 113.8 run), 9 TD
Defense: 397.0 YPG (135.0 pass, 262.0 run), 22 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 17 vs. Kent State
October 24 vs. Ball State
October 31 @ Arkansas
November 5 (Thurs) @ Northern Illinois
November 14 vs. Western Michigan
November 20 (Fri) @ Toledo
November 27 (Fri) @ Akron

Andrew Says...
"I get the sense that I could run for 15 carries and 61 yards with a touchdown off their rush defense."

5. New Mexico (0-5, 0-1 Mountain West Conference)

Last Game
October 10 - lost to Wyoming, 37-13

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 23.3
Worst Loss: 35 points (September 5 @ Texas A&M, 41-6)
Closest Loss: 3 points (September 26 vs. New Mexico State, 20-17)
Offense: 296.3 YPG (200.3 pass, 96.0 run), 8 TD
Defense: 430.3 YPG (258.8 pass, 171.5 run), 28 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 24 vs. UNLV
October 31 @ San Diego State
November 7 @ Utah
November 14 vs. Brigham Young
November 21 vs. Colorado State
November 28 @ TCU

Andrew Says...
"Hey, remember how that 4-2-5 setup always managed to stop people? Good looking out on changing that up."

6. Western Kentucky (0-5, 0-1 Sun Belt Conference)

Last Game
October 10 - lost to Florida International, 37-20

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 26.4
Worst Loss: 56 points (September 5 @ Tennessee, 63-7)
Closest Loss: 16 points (September 26 @ Navy, 28-12)
Offense: 293.8 YPG (133.6 pass, 160.2 run), 9 TD
Defense: 496.8 YPG (215.8 pass, 281.0 run), 27 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 17 vs. Louisiana-Lafayette
October 24 @ Middle Tennessee
October 31 @ North Texas
November 7 vs. Troy
November 14 @ Louisiana-Monroe
November 28 @ Florida Atlantic
December 3 (Thurs) vs. Arkansas State

Andrew Says...
"A long time ago, the Red Drank decided to sell his soul for his school to become a success at a major sport. He now takes the form you see now, and marks time for basketball season."

7. Florida Atlantic (0-4, 0-1 Sun Belt Conference)

Last Game
October 3 - lost to Wyoming, 30-28

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 18
Worst Loss: 46 (September 5 @ Nebraska, 49-3)
Closest Loss: 2 points (September 26 vs. Louisiana-Monroe, 27-25; October 3 vs. Wyoming, 30-28)
Offense: 384.3 YPG (263.8 pass, 120.5 run), 8 TD
Defense: 447.8 YPG (222.5 pass, 225.3 run), 19 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 17 @ North Texas
October 24 @ Louisiana-Lafayette
October 31 vs. Middle Tennessee
November 7 @ UAB
November 14 vs. Arkansas State
November 21 @ Troy
November 28 vs. Western Kentucky
December 5 @ Florida International

Andrew Says...
"I stand by my previous bold statement in regards to the fighting Schnellenbergers."

Games That Might Be Important This Season
October 24 – Ball State @ Eastern Michigan
November 28 – Western Kentucky @ Florida Atlantic

Just For Kicks, Let's Play NFL Reverse Survivor

2009-10-08T22:48:00.004-05:00

A word of warning: every post here for the next few months could be Reverse Survivor-related. Not saying they WILL be...it's just entirely possible.

I got this idea the other night after finishing up the regular Reverse Survivor post. Looking at the NFL standings, it became clear that with 25% of the season in the books, there was something happening here. That "something" was six winless teams in five divisions. And one of them isn't the Detroit Lions (who should have this award named after them). Good for them!

The six winless teams through four weeks are:

Cleveland Browns (AFC North): 0-4
Tennessee Titans (AFC South): 0-4
Kansas City Chiefs (AFC West): 0-4
Carolina Panthers (NFC South): 0-3
Tampa Bay Buccaneers (NFC South): 0-4
St. Louis Rams (NFC West): 0-4

The Titans and Panthers, both playoff teams with 12+ wins last season, appear to be the two things that don't belong. They won't make the playoffs, but they shouldn't be completely horrendous over the last twelve games, either. There's a lot of football left to play. Plenty of time to finish up respectably.

The other four, however? Wheeeeew. They be bad. Cleveland and Tampa Bay have new coaches and offenses that don't seem to be working out, St. Louis is averaging six points per game (the inept Browns have scored as many points this season), and Kansas City? I have no words for Kansas City. Joe Posnanski has written that they're really bad, if I recall, so I'm gonna combine that with the 0-4 record and mark it down as a fact.

Only one thing stands in the way of some of these teams: the schedule. There are thee games scheduled between current Reverse Survivor competitors, meaning a maximum of three teams can go winless in 2009:

October 18: Carolina @ Tampa Bay
December 13: St. Louis @ Tennessee
December 20: Cleveland @ Kansas City

In addition, several of the remaining teams have games against Oakland and Detroit. My guess is we're gonna have about eight teams that finish 2-14. Whoever wants this is really gonna have to fight for it.

Reverse Survivor: The Return

2009-10-05T18:24:00.005-05:00

I can't deny that my regular production at One More Dying Quail has fallen off greatly in recent months. Where I once used to post at least an item a day (and often more), I now post approximately one or two items a month (unless that month is September, when I posted nothing at all).

The primary cause of this is my work at Bus Leagues Baseball, where we focus on minor league baseball. I like the focus that derives from writing about a single topic, the feeling that even though you are limiting yourself to one segment of one sport, there is always something to write about. And minor league baseball is fun. If the majors are the stuffy, college-educated, career-driven older brother, then the minors are the long-haired, motorcycle-riding, fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants younger sibling. Major League Baseball is supposed to be capitalized; minor league baseball looks best when it isn't.

But I digress. This post isn't about my recent production. It's not about baseball of the Major League or minor league varieties (although Jayson Stark did have a column today in which he mentioned Joe Girardi, Ron Gardenhire, and Don Wakamatsu as runners-up for his Manager of the Year award while completely leaving out Terry Francona; you're telling me Tito wasn't one of the AL's Top Four managers this season? Puh-lease). And it's not about the NFL in general or the Patriots in particular.

No, this post is about college football, Reverse Survivor, one of the ideas that truly defines One More Dying Quail.

If you're new here, the idea behind Reverse Survivor (a term coined by old friend Eric Angevine, editor of college basketball blog Storming the Floor, which will welcome the competition for the second time this season) is to celebrate mediocrity by tracking college football's winless teams, week-by-week, until only one is remaining. That team "wins" the competition, ironically, by not winning at all.

(In years past, I've used victories over FBS opponents as an additional deciding factor; a team could therefore win a game against an FCS opponent and still be eligible for the Reverse Survivor trophy (note: there is no Reverse Survivor trophy). This year, though, I've scrapped that. It just causes too much trouble, adds too much confusion later in the season, and quite frankly, takes a lot of the fun away. No one wants to see a Reverse Survivor winner with one or two wins. We want to be able to say that the last team to win a game - any game - is the official winner.)

After five weeks, there are eight contenders for the 2009 College Football Reverse Survivor title (anyone who has read past installments will recognize at least a couple of the schools involved). I've put together a handy little primer below to better help us all know what we're dealing with as we head into Week Six. And as an added bonus, I've enlisted the immortal Andrew Rosin of Grand National Championships and SEC Football Blogger fame (who knows far more about these teams than I do) to give a brief rundown of each team.

1. Rice (0-5, 0-2 Conference USA West)

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 23.6
Worst Loss: 45 points (September 12 @ Texas Tech, 55-10)
Closest Loss: 17 points (September 19 @ Oklahoma State, 41-24; October 3 vs. Tulsa, 27-10)
Offense: 299.6 YPG (199.8 pass, 99.8 run), 10 TD
Defense: 459.2 YPG (295.0 pass, 164.2 run), 25 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 10 vs. Navy
October 17 @ East Carolina
October 24 vs. UCF
October 31 BYE
November 7 @ Southern Methodist
November 14 vs. Tulane
November 21 vs. UTEP
November 28 @ Houston

Andrew Says...
"A dropoff was expected after the graduation of Chase Clement and Jarrett Dillard. But letting Vandy put up 36 on you does not bode well."

2. Miami of Ohio (0-5, 0-2 Mid-American Conference East)

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 29.2
Worst Loss: 48 points (September 12 @ Boise State, 48-0)
Closest Loss: 10 points (September 26 @ Kent State, 29-19)
Offense: 334.2 YPG (253.4 pass, 80.8 run), 8 TD
Defense: 396.6 YPG (224.4 pass, 172.2 run), 25 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 10 @ Northwestern
October 17 @ Ohio
October 24 vs. Northern Illinois
October 31 vs. Toledo
November 5 (Thurs) @ Temple
November 12 (Thurs) vs. Bowling Green
November 18 (Wed) vs. Buffalo

Andrew Says...
"Earl Blaik is rolling over in his grave."

3. Ball State (0-5, 0-1 Mid-American Conference West)

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 11
Worst Loss: 24 points (September 26 @ Auburn, 54-30)
Closest Loss: 7 points (September 12 vs. New Hampshire, 23-16; September 19 @ Army, 24-17; October 3 vs. Toledo, 37-30)
Offense: 276.2 YPG (171.2 pass, 105 run), 10 TD
Defense: 427.6 YPG (242.8 pass, 184.8 run), 19 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 10 @ Temple
October 17 vs. Bowling Green
October 24 @ Eastern Michigan
October 31 vs. Ohio
November 12 (Thurs) @ Northern Illinois
November 18 (Wed) vs. Central Michigan
November 24 (Tues) @ Western Michigan

Andrew Says...
"Useless. Simply useless. Tanner Justice is the worst superhero ever."

4. Eastern Michigan (0-4, 0-1 Mid-American Conference West)

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 14
Worst Loss: 28 points (September 19 @ Michigan, 45-17)
Closest Loss: 3 points (September 12 @ Northwestern, 27-24)
Offense: 277 YPG (166.8 pass, 110.3 run), 8 TD
Defense: 366 YPG (89.3 pass, 276.8 run), 15 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 10 @ Central Michigan
October 17 vs. Kent State
October 24 vs. Ball State
October 31 @ Arkansas
November 5 (Thurs) @ Northern Illinois
November 14 vs. Western Michigan
November 20 (Fri) @ Toledo
November 27 (Fri) @ Akron

Andrew Says...
"Actually has a pretty good offense. The defense is useless. But the offense will keep them from a complete winless season."

5. New Mexico (0-5, 0-1 Mountain West Conference)

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 23.2
Worst Loss: 35 points (September 5 @ Texas A&M, 41-6)
Closest Loss: 3 points (September 26 vs. New Mexico State, 20-17)
Offense: 295.8 YPG (190 pass, 105.8 run), 7 TD
Defense: 434.2 YPG (264.2 pass, 170 run), 23 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 10 @ Wyoming
October 24 vs. UNLV
October 31 @ San Diego State
November 7 @ Utah
November 14 vs. Brigham Young
November 21 vs. Colorado State
November 28 @ TCU

Andrew Says...
"I'd be Assaulting some people too if I was stuck in New Mexico."

6. Florida International (0-4, 0-1 Sun Belt Conference)

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 14.25
Worst Loss: 26 points (September 12 @ Alabama, 40-14)
Closest Loss: 8 points (September 19 @ Rutgers, 23-15)
Offense: 309.3 YPG (243.2 pass, 67.0 run), 12 TD
Defense: 513.3 YPG (272.8 pass, 240.5 run), 17 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 10 @ Western Kentucky
October 17 vs. Troy
October 24 @ Arkansas State
October 31 vs. Louisiana-Lafayette
November 7 @ Middle Tennessee
November 14 vs. North Texas
November 21 @ Florida
December 5 vs. Florida Atlantic

Andrew Says...
"They play Western Kentucky this week. Forget you ever heard of them."

7. Western Kentucky (0-4, 0-0 Sun Belt Conference)

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 28.75
Worst Loss: 56 points (September 5 @ Tennessee, 63-7)
Closest Loss: 16 points (September 26 @ Navy, 28-12)
Offense: 272.0 YPG (137.5 pass, 134.5 run), 6 TD
Defense: 499.5 YPG (199.8 pass, 299.8 run), 23 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 10 vs. Florida International
October 17 vs. Louisiana-Lafayette
October 24 @ Middle Tennessee
October 31 @ North Texas
November 7 vs. Troy
November 14 @ Louisiana-Monroe
November 28 @ Florida Atlantic
December 3 (Thurs) vs. Arkansas State

Andrew Says...
"Will win Reverse Survivor."

8. Florida Atlantic (0-4, 0-1 Sun Belt Conference)

Key Points
Average Margin of Defeat: 18
Worst Loss: 46 (September 5 @ Nebraska, 49-3)
Closest Loss: 2 points (September 26 vs. Louisiana-Monroe, 27-25; October 3 vs. Wyoming, 30-28)
Offense: 384.3 YPG (263.8 pass, 120.5 run), 8 TD
Defense: 447.8 YPG (222.5 pass, 225.3 run), 19 TD

Upcoming Schedule
October 17 @ North Texas
October 24 @ Louisiana-Lafayette
October 31 vs. Middle Tennessee
November 7 @ UAB
November 14 vs. Arkansas State
November 21 @ Troy
November 28 vs. Western Kentucky
December 5 @ Florida International

Andrew Says...
"I will give you a bold prediction: the dapper Howard Schnellenberger will lead professional level quarterback Rusty Smith to a bowl game."

Games That Might Be Important This Season
October 10 – Florida International @ Western Kentucky
October 24 – Ball State @ Eastern Michigan
November 28 – Western Kentucky @ Florida Atlantic
December 5 – Florida Atlantic @ Florida International

My Favorite Movie Quotes, Volume 24

2009-08-15T01:47:00.002-05:00

3:10 to Yuma (2007)

Some critics found the father-son stuff to be the weakest part of 3:10 to Yuma. As both a father and a son, I thought it interesting. It's one of those little things you find yourself worrying about while lying awake at three in the morning: what is my boy going to think of me when he grows up and is old enough to decide for himself whether or not I'm full of crap?

Earlier scenes in the movie showed that while Dan's younger son still had that "hero worship" view of his father, the older boy, William, harbored no such illusions. Not only does he resent his father and the way people treat him, but Dan is painfully aware of William's feelings and the fact that he can do nothing to change things...except steadfastly refuse to quit until the job he signed up for is finished.

Dan Evans: I'm gonna be a day behind you, William. Unless something happens, and if it does, I need a man at the ranch to run things, protect our family, and I know that you can do that because you've become a fine man, William. You've become a fine man. You got all the best parts of me. What few there are.
[Dan shakes William's hand]
Dan Evans: And you just remember that your old man walked Ben Wade to that station when nobody else would.

Birthers Are Hilarious

2009-08-06T16:19:00.003-05:00

I forget where I originally saw the link to this Salon.com article - it seems like something The Big Lead would have had, but I'm not sure - but I would love to shake the hand of the person who posted it, because through that link I was able to click through to WND.com.

And WND.com is pure comedy gold.

I don't think they meant for it to be that way. I think they're trying to be at the forefront of the "BARACK OBAMA IS NOT AN AMERICAN CITIZEN!" movement. Hey, it's a free country. You wanna believe that Barack Obama isn't a citizen, knock yourself out. I'll even let you try to convince me of the same. If you do try to convince me, however, it would probably be best to make sense while doing so.

WND is nice enough to list a bunch of related stories at the end of articles on a specific topic, so I checked out a few of their entries on the Obama citizenship issue. These three were my favorites:

Mr. President, we have a problem (July 22): The basic premise of this article was that President said, in his remarks during a gathering to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing, that he remembered being in Hawaii and watching the capsules splash down after the mission was complete. But (gasp!), Obama lived in Indonesia from 1967 to 1971; Apollo 11 landed on the moon in 1969; he could not have seen these events take place while living in Hawaii. Take that, El Presidente!

One thing immediately jumped out at me: as far as I can tell, Obama never said that he was talking about that specific landing, but about the Apollo missions in general. From WND:

The country continues to draw inspiration from what you've done. I should note, just personally, I grew up in Hawaii, as many of you know, and I still recall sitting on my grandfather's shoulders when those capsules would land in the middle of the Pacific and they'd get brought back and we'd go out and we'd pretend like they could see us as we were waving at folks coming home. And I remember waving American flags and my grandfather telling me that the Apollo mission was an example of how Americans can do anything they put their minds to.

It's that second sentence - "...when those capsules would land in the middle of the Pacific..." If he was talking about Apollo 11, wouldn't he have said, "...when those capsules landed in the middle of the Pacific..."? The use of "would land" denotes, to me, that he was talking about multiple missions that he might have witnessed.

Even so, that leads to the first problem: the first manned Apollo mission launched in 1968, while Obama was in Indonesia. So clearly, the president was lying to cover up something from his past, right?

Um, no. Probably not. Apollo 7 didn't launch until October 1968, but it wasn't the first manned American space flight - there were a whole crapload of Gemini missions in the mid-1960s. It is possible that Obama remembered watching these astronauts return to Earth and mistakenly believed that they were from the Apollo missions. It WAS 40+ years ago.

Wikipedia says Obama born in Kenya (July 12): This one is my favorite because it starts by reporting that Wikipedia has Obama listed as being born in either Hawaii or Kenya before going on to break down, update-by-update, all the changes that had been made to the president's entry.

Joe Kovacs notes in the beginning of his story that Wikipedia is a "free, online encyclopedia written and edited entirely by its users." Right. That's why you always have to take things on Wikipedia with a grain of salt. I love it dearly, and I still won't use it as a be-all, end-all source. Why? Because absolutely anyone can edit anything at any time - like changing Barack Obama's entry to say that maybe he was born in Kenya, then spicing that up with a variety of other "facts."

Joe apparently failed to realize this, deciding instead to list all the updates like it was some sort of smoking gun. What's awesome is that he failed to report the only actual fact in this situation: that whoever made those changes is someone who believes the information that Kovacs and the birther movement are preaching. Hell, it could've been Joe Kovacs himself who edited the entry. In other words, the whole "Look at all the changes being made to Obama's Wikipedia page!" story wasn't really much of a story at all.

Just who delivered baby Barack Obama? (July 12): WND is taking it to the source, folks, and trying to find doctors who worked at the hospital where Obama was born to see if they remembered the event:

Specifically, WND requested from Kapi'olani Medical Center spokeswoman Kristi Watanabe whether the hospital could determine from records how many babies were delivered at the hospital in 1961 and whether WND could obtain a list of the physicians affiliated with the hospital in 1961.
The goal was to see if any of the physicians working at the hospital in 1961 could be contacted today to see if they remembered who served as the attendant physician at Obama's birth.
WND was unable to obtain any of the records requested from the hospital.
WND did manage to locate one physician, Calvin Sia, M.D., a Honolulu pediatrician for more than 40 years at Kauikeolani Children's Hospital and Kapi'olani Medical Center, who began at Kapi'olani in 1958 and was there in 1961.
Although Sia said he had no idea which doctor at Kapi'olani was the attending physician at Obama's birth, he expressed his belief Obama was born at the hospital.

Awesome. Here's the thing: isn't it sort of ridiculous to suggest that doctors should remember the birth of a child from nearly fifty years ago, just because that child grew up to be someone famous? I would be willing to bet that you could ask the doctor who delivered me in 1979 if he remembered Brian Moynahan, and he wouldn't have the slightest clue. (Maybe I wasn't really born in New Hampshire. On the bright side, I just gave you my name, year of birth, and state of birth. Please don't steal my identity.) You could probably ask the doctor who delivered my son and he wouldn't remember. That's why it's foolish to expect the same from the doctor who delivered Barack Obama, wherever he is.

So yeah. Birthers. Keep it coming, folks, keep it coming. This is good, good stuff.

Forty Is The New Thirty: 2009 Update

2009-07-12T16:06:00.003-05:00

Last year's update was posted on August 20. For this year, I thought the All-Star Break would provide a natural stoppage for us to take a look at the six teams that have gone the longest without a forty homerun hitter.

Minnesota Twins

Last player to hit 40: Harmon Killebrew, 1970 (41)
Current leaders: Justin Morneau (21)

In 2006, Morneau had 23 homeruns at the break; he hit eleven in the second half to finish with 34. In 2007, he had 24 at the break; he hit seven in the second half to finish with 31. (He had a good year overall last year, but slumped to 23 homeruns.) This is the third time in four years that he has gone into the break with 20+ homeruns, and he always seems to slow down in the second half. His decision to skip the Homerun Derby in 2009 is probably a wise one.

Pittsburgh Pirates

Last player to hit 40: Willie Stargell, 1973 (44)
Current leader: Adam LaRoche (12)

The Pirates are bad at many things, but they are very good at avoiding forty-homerun hitters. Jason Bay was leading the team with 22 homeruns and had a good shot at forty before he was traded; Nate McLouth got off to a hot start, ended up with 26, and was traded this season, just in case. The only bona fide homerun threat in the lineup is LaRoche, who has never hit more than 19 homeruns in the second half (2006) or seven in a month (four times).

Detroit Tigers

Last player to hit 40: Cecil Fielder, 1991 (44)
Current leaders: Brandon Inge (21), Curtis Granderson (18), Miguel Cabrera (17)

Inge's career-high in homeruns is 27 in 2006. He had 17 roundtrippers at the All-Star Break that year but only ten in the second half. Granderson is hitting more homeruns, but fewer doubles and triples. And Cabrera hit 16 in the first half last year before stroking 21 in the second to lead the league at 37. He's probably got the best chance of anyone currently on the team to break forty.

Kansas City Royals

Last player to hit 40: None
Current leader: Miguel Olivo (13)

Miguel Olivo's career homerun high is 16. If he hits 27 homeruns in the second half, I will turn this into a blog that reports only on events that pertain to Miguel Olivo.

Florida Marlins

Last player to hit 40: Gary Sheffield, 1996 (42)
Current leader: Dan Uggla (16)

Uggla looked good at the halfway point last year, with 23, but only hit nine more the rest of the way to finish with 32. He hit fourteen in the second half of the previous two years.

Baltimore Orioles

Last player to hit 40: Rafael Palmeiro, 1998 (43)
Current leader: Luke Scott (17)

A forty-homerun hitter is unlikely this season, but with Nick Markakis, Nolan Reimold, Adam Jones, and Matt Wieters in the lineup, it may not be long before Baltimore gets off this list.

Now I Know How Molly Ringwald Felt

2009-07-06T23:01:00.002-05:00

Does anyone know what Sunday was? Anyone? Bueller?

Okay, I'll tell you. It was the third anniversary of the day I started One More Dying Quail. Don't feel bad - even I forgot about it until about ten minutes ago.

Hard to believe it's been three years already. Things have slowed down a lot in that time - last month was a record low for me, with one lonely post - as my writing energy has shifted elsewhere, but I still consider this my "home base", the place I can use when I need to post my thoughts about Roger Federer or Kendra Wilkinson.

Anyway, no big link posts this year (I'm not sure I had the content over the past year to support one). Just go read the new stuff at Bus Leagues so I can get rich and retire.

5-7, 7-6 (8-6), 7-6 (7-5), 3-6, 16-14

2009-07-06T20:14:00.004-05:00

I don't get to watch much television these days. Over the past few months, since my son learned how to operate the DVD player and ask for movies, my viewing has been limited to things like Shrek, Madagascar, Cars, Meet the Robinsons...you get the point.

Somehow, though, I wrested control of the remote from the little one on Sunday morning. My wife reminded me about the Wimbledon final (via a friend's Facebook status that mentioned how great the battle was between Federer and Roddick) and I turned the channel to NBC in the fifth set with the score 10-9 in favor of Federer.

It's amazing how much Federer's entire demeanor changes when Rafael Nadal is out of the picture. At both the French Open and Wimbledon, he had the appearance of a man who knew that he was, by a longshot, the best player in the building. When Nadal is the opponent, or looming further on down the draw, Federer looks nervous, his concentration starts to crack, he begins to show emotion. He becomes...human.

Without Nadal's presence to weigh him down, Federer's win was almost a foregone conclusion. Somehow, from the time I turned the television on, I knew he was going to beat Roddick. It was the same feeling he used to conjure up in the past, the same feeling he still conjures up whenever he plays anyone except Rafael Nadal. There was just a sense that he was playing his game, looking for Roddick to make a mistake, and willing to wait as long as possible for that to happen.

Eventually, of course, it did; Federer broke Roddick's serve and held his own, which was all he needed to take home his sixth Wimbledon title in seven years. (A thought about last year's final: if memory serves, the match was delayed at least twice by rain, allowing Nadal the opportunity to briefly rest his damaged knees. What if the retractable roof, new to this year's tournament, was in place last year? Might Federer have physically outlasted Nadal for the title, and might his streak now be at seven?)

One thing I will say about Roddick: his spirit and attitude were remarkable. While Federer has always exuded an air of calm during his matches, not matter the circumstances (again, except when he faces Nadal), Roddick has never seemed able to find a consistent oncourt style. My previous most prominent memory of him was from a Grand Slam final a few years ago, maybe the 2006 U.S. Open, against Federer. Every time he won a point, Roddick stormed around the court, ranting and raving and shouting like a madman. It seemed a calculated attempt to draw the home crowd into it and perhaps throw Federer off his game (I read later that Jimmy Connors, who I think was coaching Roddick at the time, used to do the same thing during his playing days), but all it did was waste precious energy. When playing Federer, I think, you need to conserve every possible ounce of energy and use it on the court.

On Sunday, however, Roddick just went about his business. Most players would have folded far earlier, but he held on for as long as possible, even coming close to breaking Federer's serve late in the fifth set. And after the match, while clearly upset with the loss, he was gracious in defeat. My favorite moment came when Federer said in the post-match interview that he knew what Roddick was feeling because he had lost in a similar manner last year. From halfway across the court, Roddick yelled back, "Yeah, but you had already won it five times!"

Bottom line, I'm glad I got the chance to catch the end of this classic match. I even recorded the ending (only the last game, but still) and can transfer it to VHS if I want, which is more than I can say for last year's epic. That match went away when we moved and had to get a different DVR unit (although I think you can buy it from Wimbledon.org for $19.99 or something).

Conversations With My Wife

2009-06-11T19:20:00.003-05:00

Me: Kendra Wilkinson is pregnant.

Her: Yeah.

Me: She's engaged to a football player.

Her: Yeah. If it's a girl, they're gonna name her Kaylee, because it's the first letter of her first name and her middle name. And if it's a boy, they're gonna name it Hank Baskett IV.

[pause]

Her: One step ahead of ya, babe.

Down Goes Nadal! Down Goes Nadal!

2009-05-31T11:41:00.003-05:00

Wow.

Rafael Nadal, for the first time EVER, has lost a match at the French Open. The Legend Killer? Robin Soderling of Sweden, a 24-year-old righthander with a 177-128 career record who is ranked 25th in the world.

This is good news and bad news for Roger Federer. On one hand, he has to figure his path is now clear to win the French Open and complete that elusive career Grand Slam, thus cementing his status as the Greatest Of All Time in the eyes of many observers. On the other hand, if he does win, he won't have to go through Nadal to do it. Sometimes, you have to break rough stretches by going through your biggest rival in order for it to feel right (like the Red Sox really NEEDED to beat the Yankees in the ALCS before winning the World Series; it wouldn't have been the same if they broke through against any other team).

Either way, Federer isn't the story. Nadal is.

Wow.

Who Called Randy Johnson's Pitches In 1993?

2009-05-25T17:45:00.003-05:00

I literally have about a dozen different things that I want to write about right now, including three that have been sitting in open tabs on my browser as reminders since Saturday. Right now, however, I figured I'd address a story that caught my eye earlier today, and attempt a little detective work to get to the bottom of things.

Every week for the last seventeen years, I have received a copy of Sports Illustrated in the mail. As it has become easier to access information online, however, my reading habits have changed. Where once I used to get the magazine a Thursday afternoon and read it by Thursday night, making sure to save Rick Reilly's column for last, I now get it on Thursday afternoon and read it...whenever I get to it, really. The reason is simple: most of what I actually read, the letters and feature stories, isn't extraordinarily time-sensitive, so I can leave it until I have a few minutes. Today, for example, I misplaced the book I had been reading, Stephen King's newest collection of short stories, so I grabbed SI.

The first thing I came to worth reading, besides the letters and a short obituary for Wayman Tisdale, was a story about Randy Johnson and his road to three hundred wins. I like baseball and have recently had conversations about The Big Unit with a couple friends, so I read it.

Near the beginning, Dave Valle told a story that I guess was supposed to highlight Johnson's dominance in the early 1990s. It went like this:

So dominant was Johnson that before a game in 1993, the home plate umpire told Mariners catcher Dave Valle, "They don't even need you with Randy pitching."

"What are you talking about?" replied Valle, who would not name the ump.

"He's so good they don't need you. Let me call the pitches tonight."

"I let him call every pitch," recalls Valle, to whom the umpire whispered pitches under his breath.

An overpowering Johnson went the distance in a Mariners victory.

Before deciding to post, I did a Google search for "Randy Johnson, umpire." Two results came up regarding this story - one from a blog that basically said, "This story HAS to be made up...right?" and another that did some of the same leg work I had also done, and will talk about in a minute. The point is, this is a pretty big deal. This is an umpire, the guy who is supposed to be an impartial arbiter, directly injecting himself into the events on the field.

This, in my opinion, is a much bigger deal than Alex Rodriguez tipping pitches to opposing middle infielders. Pitch tipping has gone on forever in baseball - I just read Peter Golenbeck's history of the Red Sox. At one point, he wrote about how when Jimmie Foxx, a well-liked player around the league was chasing Ruth's homerun record in the 1930s, pitchers would give him easy pitches to hit, trying to help him out. I'm almost positive I've never heard of an umpire trying to do something like this before (although there's this nagging feeling in the back of my head that I once read something similar. If anyone can help me out, please do so).

So I decided that this story deserved some attention. To Baseball-Reference!

1. The game was a complete game victory for Johnson.

Randy Johnson pitched ten complete games in 1993, winning seven of them. The dates and umpires for those games are as follows:

April 21 – Jim McKean
April 26 – Tim Welke
May 16 – Dale Scott
August 20 – Ken Kaiser
September 5 – Joe Brinkman
September 21 – Ed Hickox
October 1 – Drew Coble

2. The umpire said, "Let me call the pitches tonight."

It's a pretty common thing for people in baseball to refer to every game as "tonight." It's one of those little mind-melting things that comes from playing 162 games and traveling all over the country in a six month period. For the sake of the argument, however, I'm going to assume that the umpire was actually referring to a night game. If that's the case, we lose two day games and the list looks like this:

April 21 – Jim McKean
April 26 – Tim Welke
August 20 – Ken Kaiser
September 21 – Ed Hickox
October 1 – Drew Coble

3. Valle refused to name the umpire.

Most likely, Valle didn't want to name names because he realized this could become a complicated story and he didn't want to make life any more difficult than necessary for the umpire in question. Another possibility is that he didn't want to name names because the umpire in the story is still active and might be subject to some sort of censure by Major League Baseball (well, assuming MLB was willing to punish people for past sins).

There's a good chance that Valle was protecting the reputation of someone like Ken Kaiser or Drew Coble, respected umpires who would only be hurt by having their names mentioned in connection with a story of questionable ethics. I'm more inclined to believe that it's the latter, that the umpire is still active, which leaves the list looking like this:

April 26 - Tim Welke
September 21 - Ed Hickox

This is all pure speculation on my part, of course, and relies on Valle's story being truthful from the start. I hope he's exaggerating quite a bit. But if Major League Baseball cares at all about integrity, it should look into this some more and address it, even if only internally.

Conversations With My Parents

2009-05-25T01:33:00.003-05:00

In the past, I've mentioned that my father is generally a quiet man. What I might not have made clear is that he has a terrific, albeit dry, sense of humor. Saturday night, when we visited my parents after my nephew's tenth birthday party, the following exchange took place:

My mother (talking to me): Do you realize that this year, I'll be twice as old as you?

Me: Well, yeah, it makes sense. You were thirty when I was born, and I'm thirty this year, so you'll be twice as old. It's like when Anna (my younger sister) turns 35, you'll be 70.

My father (talking to no one in particular): Holy shit.

I wish I could do a better job of explaining how perfect the timing was. No sooner was the word "seventy" out of my mouth than he responded. It's actually even funnier than you'd first think because he's almost four year older than she is. By the time she hits seventy, he'll be well on his way to - gasp! - eighty. And when my father turns eighty, I'll be...46.

Holy shit.

2009 Baseball Ejections: Wild Wild West

2009-05-21T16:34:00.004-05:00

Nearly two years ago, I compiled a list of players, managers, and coaches who had been ejected from Major League Baseball games in 2007. It was a time-consuming process that I always assumed could be done more easily than the method I used, which involved me sitting in front of the computer, clicking on each individual box score and scrolling down to the bottom to see if anyone had been tossed. Because of the amount of time involved and the fact that last summer was, on a scale of 1-10, a 1.3 for me personally, I decided not to put another list together.

Lately, though, I got an itch. Maybe it was the Eddie Guardado ejection on April 30, when Easy Eddie was brought into the game with the bases loaded, promptly walked the first batter he faced on four pitches, was removed from the game, THEN ejected by the home plate umpire. Or maybe it was April 12, when Joe West went on a rampage, tossing three Los Angeles Angels who had the temerity to express displeasure that Red Sox pitcher Josh Beckett appeared to have thrown intentionally at Bobby Abreu's head (manager Mike Scioscia joined them the next inning when he was given the heave-ho by Ed Rapuono; ironically, Beckett was the one who was later suspended for his actions).

Actually, I don't remember when I decided to put this list together again, but I remember when I knew it was a good idea: on May 16, when Angels pitcher John Lackey (angry start for the Halos, with seven ejections already) was thrown out for hitting Ian Kinsler in the ribs. The catch, of course, was that even though Kinsler had hit two homeruns the night before and was leading off the game, it was Lackey's first game of the season after spending six weeks on the disabled list. He threw two pitches. The ump who ran him was not, unfortunately, Joe West.

The current list of 2009 ejections is below. Please feel free to email or comment with any that I have missed or misidentified. And, if you stumbled upon this and find the subject reasonably interesting, you owe it to yourself to check out The Left Field Corner, home of the MLB Umpire Ejection Fantasy League. My stuff is basically found in list form - over there, they give a lot of information, with links and graphs and all sorts of cool stuff. It's pretty awesome.

(Oh, and at some point, the plan is to go back through previous years and take down that information as well. I know places like Elias and SABR keep lists of these things, but I've never been able to find them online. If they are, and my life's work is now worthless, feel free to break the bad news, gently.)

(complete through May 20, 2009)

Japan (World Baseball Classic)
March 17 – Kenji Johjima, catcher
Top 7th by home plate umpire Hunter Wendelstedt

Baltimore Orioles (2)
April 28 – Dave Trembly, manager
Top 7th by home plate umpire Angel Hernandez for arguing a balk call

May 3 – Dave Trembly, manager (2)
Bottom 5th by home plate umpire Chris Tiller for arguing balls and strikes

Boston Red Sox (1)
May 14 – Terry Francona, manager
Top 10th by home plate umpire Bill Miller for arguing balls and strikes

Chicago Cubs (1)
April 16 – Milton Bradley, pinch hitter
Bottom 6th by home plate umpire Larry Vanover for arguing balls and strikes

Chicago White Sox (2)
May 13 – Jermaine Dye, right field
Top 6th by home plate umpire Mike DiMuro for arguing balls and strikes

May 13 – Ozzie Guillen, manager
Top 6th by home plate umpire Mike DiMuro for arguing balls and strikes

Cincinnati Reds (2)
April 25 – Dusty Baker, manager
Bottom 4th by home plate umpire Mike Estabrook for arguing balls and strikes

April 25 – Jerry Hairston, Jr., center field
Bottom 4th by home plate umpire Mike Estabrook for arguing balls and strikes

Cleveland Indians (2)
April 27 – Eric Wedge, manager
Top 4th by home plate umpire CB Bucknor for arguing a foul ball call

May 15 – Eric Wedge, manager (2)
Top 3rd by home plate umpire Greg Gibson for arguing a play at the plate

Colorado Rockies (1)
April 13 – Clint Hurdle, manager
Mid 5th by first base umpire Tim McClelland for arguing a balk call

Detroit Tigers (1)
May 13 – Jim Leyland, manager
Top 7th by home plate umpire Paul Schrieber for arguing after Schrieber made physical contact with Detroit’s Magglio Ordonez

Florida Marlins (4)
May 15 – Fredi Gonzalez, manager
Bottom 8th by first base umpire Ed Rapuono for arguing a hit batsman call

May 15 – Dan Uggla, second base
Bottom 8th by home plate umpire Joe West for arguing balls and strikes

May 15 – Emilio Bonifacio, second base
Bottom 9th by first base umpire Ed Rapuono for arguing a call at first base

May 20 – Jeremy Hermida, left field
Bottom 10th by home plate umpire Todd Tichenor for arguing balls and strikes

Houston Astros (2)
April 25 – Ivan Rodriguez, catcher
Top 8th by home plate umpire Mike Dimuro for arguing balls and strikes

April 25 – Cecil Cooper, manager
Top 8th by home plate umpire Mike Dimuro for arguing balls and strikes

Los Angeles Angeles of Anaheim (7)
April 12 – Mickey Hatcher, hitting coach
Bottom 1st by second base umpire Joe West for arguing after Boston pitcher Josh Beckett threw at Bobby Abreu

April 12 – Torii Hunter, center field
Bottom 1st by second base umpire Joe West for arguing after Boston pitcher Josh Beckett threw at Bobby Abreu

April 12 – Justin Speier, pitcher
Bottom 1st by second base umpire Joe West for arguing after Boston pitcher Josh Beckett threw at Bobby Abreu

April 12 – Mike Scioscia, manager
Top 2nd by third base umpire Ed Rapuano for continuing to argue the previous ejections

April 21 – Mike Scioscia, manager (2)
Bottom 6th by home plate umpire Tim Timmons for arguing balls and strikes

May 6 – Mike Scioscia, manager (3)
Top 8th by home plate umpire Bill Hohn for arguing a warning

May 16 – John Lackey, pitcher
Bottom 1st by home plate umpire Bob Davidson for hitting a batter (It was Lackey’s first start of the season after spending the first six weeks on the disabled list. He threw two pitches: the first went behind Kinsler, the second hit him in the ribs.)

Minnesota Twins (1)
May 14 – Ron Gardenhire, manager
Bottom 7th by home plate umpire Paul Nauert for arguing a hit batsman

New York Mets (2)
May 7 – Jerry Manuel, manager
Top 8th by first base umpire Bill Welke for arguing an obstruction call

May 15 – Jerry Manuel, manager (2)
Top 8th by home plate umpire Doug Eddings for arguing balls and strikes

New York Yankees (3)
May 4 – Joe Girardi, manager
Bottom 5th by home plate umpire Jerry Meals for arguing balls and strikes

May 6 – Nick Swisher, right field
Bottom 7th by home plate umpire James Hoye for arguing balls and strikes

May 15 – Johnny Damon, left field
Bottom 3rd by home plate umpire Wally Bell for arguing balls and strikes

Oakland Athletics (1)
May 9 – Bob Geren, manager
Bottom 7th by home plate umpire Paul Nauert for arguing balls and strikes

Philadelphia Phillies (1)
April 25 – Charlie Manuel, manager
Top 10th by home plate umpire Ed Montague for arguing balls and strikes

San Francisco Giants (2)
May 15 – Bruce Bochy, manager
Bottom 8th by home plate umpire Doug Eddings for arguing balls and strikes

May 20 – Bruce Bochy, manager (2)
Top 8th by first base umpire Gary Cederstrom for arguing a play at first base

Tampa Bay Rays (2)
April 16 – Joe Maddon, manager
Top 6th by home plate umpire Brian Gorman for arguing a foul ball

May 2 – Jim Hickey, pitching coach
Top 7th by home plate umpire John Hirschbeck for arguing balls and strikes

Texas Rangers (2)
April 28 – Chris Davis, first base
Bottom 6th by home plate umpire Eric Cooper for arguing balls and strikes

April 30 – Eddie Guardado, pitcher
Top 7th by home plate umpire Angel Campos (“Before Matt Holliday homered in the ninth, Oakland got runs on two sacrifice flies and a bases-loaded walk issued by Eddie Guardado, who threw four balls to the only batter he faced and was ejected by umpire Angel Campos after he had already been taken out of the game.”)

Washington Nationals (2)
April 17 – Manny Acta, manager
Bottom 4th by home plate umpire Tim Timmons for arguing balls and strikes

Thoughts On Steroids, Courtesy Of Arthur Ashe

2009-05-08T22:24:00.003-05:00

I started making weekly regular trips to the local library about six months ago and immediately fell in love with the ongoing book sale located just inside the front door. There are some really good titles there, by authors like Stephen Ambrose and David Halberstam, and hardly a week goes by that I don't spend a dollar or two to pick up a book that catches my eye.

Awhile back, probably when I was on my tennis kick during the Australian Open in January, I bought "Arthur Ashe On Tennis." It has a little bit of everything: advice on the best grips, thoughts on modern players (it was published in the 1990s), different strategies for amateur players. I haven't read it straight through or anything, but it's one of those books I tend to keep in the bathroom and thumb through from time to time.

I was doing just that the other day when I came across a passage that was very interesting, especially in light of recent events. In the section on traditions, under the heading, "The Most Abused Rule," Ashe writes the following:

"Just about every amateur or club player abuses the foot fault rule. It is one of those things that separates the pros from the amateurs. The amateurs really don't give a damn, but for the pros it's a big deal.

Is it cheating? Let's put it this way. Cheating is breaking the rules on the sly. If you are breaking the rules and everybody knows it, you really are not cheating. You are giving yourself an advantage but you are not breaking any moral code. It is illegal but not immoral, I would say. It is exactly like a gimme on a six-inch putt in golf."

One of the things we tend to hear about the Steroid Era is that it was the sort of situation where everyone knew what was going on...and turned a blind eye to it. So, in Arthur Ashe's view, those who used 'roids in baseball back in the day weren't cheating or being immoral (even though they were breaking the rules). They were just seeking the same advantage as everyone else. Interesting.

I Really Need To Go Through My Closet

2009-05-02T16:52:00.003-05:00

The draft for the fantasy football league my brother and I are in was held last year at a North Hampton restaurant called Wings Your Way. At the end, his friend Ernie disappeared for a few minutes before returning with t-shirts for everyone. On the back, the company logo. On the front, the words, "I Got Boned."

For obvious reasons, this is what I like to refer to as one of my weekend shirts, meaning I only wear it around the house on the weekends, and rarely then. Never outside.

Today, after looking through my available t-shirts, I settled on Wings Your Way. The plan was to lounge around the house all day, maybe do some laundry or wash some dishes, so it should've been safe.

Should've been.

Around 3:45, I got a little cabin fever and decided to go for a walk. We had left my car with Vicki's parents when we went to the movies last night and I figured I could get it and some exercise at the same time. I even took the trash out on the way. All the right moves, baby.

I was probably a quarter mile from home when I realized that I had forgotten to change my shirt. Two kids in an SUV ran a stop sign, putting me into "Outraged Old Man" mode. My mood changed as they passed, however, and I swear I heard the girl behind the wheel say, "Does that say, 'I Got Boned'?" Why yes, young lady, it does.

The rest of the 1 1/2 mile walk was a blast, to say the least. I spent most of it concocting various scenarios in which groups of big mean guys mocked my shirt and I disarmed them with witty comebacks delivered in a dry, "I'm laughing now, but will gladly kick your ass later," manner. Think Bruce Willis in any of the Die Hard movies, only instead of a tough-as-nails New York cop, he's a short fat guy from New Hampshire who's never been in a fight. That was my imaginary situation, which surprisingly did not come to fruition. Much a pity.

Anyway, I got to Vicki's parents without further incident (although I'm pretty sure there were some strange looks from passing cars). My mother-in-law got a kick out of the fact that I had been wandering the streets of Milford in the state my wardrobe was in, so hey, at least I brought some joy to somebody's life.

And I got to drive home instead of walking, which was nice.

I Was Thinking...

2009-05-02T13:09:00.003-05:00

I haven't written a random thoughts post in forever. Come to think of it, I haven't written a post in forever. But the baby is sleeping, lunch is cooking, and I have a bit of the writing itch creeping up. We'll see what happens.

...we went to the Milford Drive-In last night to see "X-Men Origins: Wolverine" and "Taken". Both were good, although Vicki tired of me asking if Liam Neeson was "gonna kick that guy's ass" about five minutes into the latter movie. What a relief when he actually did kick somebody's ass.

...I did have one major problem with each movie. In "Wolverine", Hugh Jackman probably shouted, "VICTOR!" at least five times throughout. It would've been nice if they had figured out some other way for him to announce to his brother that an ass-kicking was imminent. And in "Taken", every time Maggie Grace approached someone, she ran up to them like a little kid. Her character was supposed to be seventeen, but she acted like an eight-year-old. If Liam Neeson hadn't wanted to save her so bad, I would've been rooting for the bad guys to win.

...my kid (or any future kids) is never, ever going on a trip - to Europe, to Boston, to the Cumberland Farms down the street - without adult supervision.

...I can't get over the number of times lately that I have seen cars pulled over by police in completely unsafe areas. Pretty sure that it's not good to completely obstruct one full lane in a two lane road, or less than a hundred feet from a highway on-ramp (again blocking a full lane and requiring cars to pass unsafely. Maybe the stops are warranted, but if they are for nothing more than minor traffic violations, better judgment should be used.

...cheap plug: my writing these days can be found at Bus Leagues Baseball (more often than it's found here, anyway). My most recent posts are an interview with minor league baseball player Paul Rutgers and a video of Jacoby Ellsbury stealing home against the Yankees.

This Song Will Never Be The Same Again

2009-04-23T16:19:00.003-05:00

I'd like to dedicate this song to Tom, Chris, and the poor karaoke guy who spent six minutes just wishing it would end.

My Favorite Movie Quotes, Volume 23

2009-04-07T23:07:00.001-05:00

Backdraft (1991)

Lt. Steven McCaffrey: Look at him... That's my brother god damnit.

All-State Teams: The Virginias

2009-04-04T12:01:00.001-05:00

C Todd Hundley (1990-2003) 202 HR Martinsville, VA
1B Willie Horton (1963-80) 325 HR Arno, VA
2B Bill Mazeroski (1956-72) 2016 H Wheeling, WV
3B George Brett (1973-93) 3154 H, 317 HR Glen Dale, WV
SS Jack Glasscock (1879-95) 2040 H Wheeling, WV
OF Jesse Burkett (1890-1905) 2850 H Wheeling, WV
OF Paul Hines (1872-91) 2134 H VA
OF Al Bumbry (1972-85) .281 BA Fredericksburg, VA

SP Eppa Rixey (1912-33) 266-251 W-L, 3.15 ERA Culpeper, VA
SP Lew Burdette (1950-67) 203-144 W-L Nitro, WV
SP Deacon Phillippe (1899-1911) 189-109 W-L, 2.59 ERA Rural Retreat, VA
SP Wilbur Cooper (1912-26) 216-178 W-L, 2.89 ERA Bearsville, WV
SP Leon Day (1934-50) Alexandria, VA

RP Wayne Gomes (1997-2002) 321 G, 29 SV Hampton, VA
RP Al Holland (1977-87) 2.98 ERA, 78 SV Roanoke, VA
RP Billy Wagner (1995-pres) 385 SV Tannersville, VA
RP Mike Williams (1992-2003) 144 SV Radford, VA

Mgr Charlie Manuel (2000-08) 574-484 W-L, World Series Northfork, WV

Don't Look At Me That Way, It Was An Honest Mistake

2009-03-25T21:54:00.003-05:00

Sixty-three days ago, I stopped drinking soda. It didn't figure to be easy, breaking a fifteen-year-old addiction, but for over two months I've managed to stay the course and steer clear of Mountain Dew, Pepsi, and other bubbly beverages. (Regrettably, my chocolate milk consumption has risen exponentially in the same time period.)

It's toughest to watch what I drink during the day, at work, when I'm often tired to the point of exhaustion and know that the caffeine and sugar found in a 20-ounce bottle of Dew would provide enough of a pick-me-up to make it through the day.

Today, after a particularly rough morning, I stopped in at the Shell station and started looking at the energy drinks. Soda is off my grid, caffeine is not. After much deliberation and reading of labels, I bought a can of Rockstar and immediately texted my wife to tell her that I hoped it wasn't in violation of my personal Prohibition. When I got to the car, I popped open the can and drank some. It was bubblier than I expected (not a good sign) and fruity tasting. The can was about half-gone when the following exchange text exchange took place between Vicki and I:

"I hope this doesn't qualify as soda. I feel like I'm cheating."
"You're crazy! :-) is it bubbly?"
"It's a little bubbly. It's made with carbonated water."
"aka soda water?"
"Am I breaking my rule?! :-("
"I think you might be...but it was an honest mistake..."
"I'm crushed :-("

Talk about major suckage. I don't know if my back-to-back sad-face emoticons truly convey the desparation of the situation, but it was depressing. I felt like a recovering alcoholic who drank two cups of punch before anyone told him it was spiked.

In the end, though, I was pleased with my ultimate reaction. Whereas once I might have used this as an excuse to "fall off the wagon" and partake in whatever contraband items I wanted, today was different. After talking with Vicki, I didn't drink another drop, soda or not, and threw away the rest of the can. That's progress, right?

Bedtime

2009-03-22T04:38:00.001-05:00

My son is no different from most children in that he doesn’t like to go to bed. As recently as a few weeks ago, when he was still transitioning between being an infant and a toddler, he would scream and cry if we laid him in his crib before he fell asleep, to the point that we never put him there unless he was asleep. More often than not, he dozed off on the living room couch, or in our bed.

These past few weeks, however, have been much better. He still cries when I tell him it’s time to go nuh-night, and when I carry him up the stairs, and even when I first lay him down. What’s different now is that when I put him in the crib, he usually stops crying, rolls over onto his stomach, and allows himself to be covered with a blanket. It’s almost as if he’s saying, “Fine, you win, I’ll play by your rules. But you’re gonna cover me, jerk.”

Tonight was the same old routine, except when I went to carry him upstairs, he grabbed a blanket he likes and refused to let go. I brought him into his room, no tears, laid him in his crib, no tears, and covered him with the blanket, no tears. (Mama also wasn’t home, which means he really had nobody to cry for.) What really made me smile, though, was what happened next. As I was walking out of his room, I stopped at the end of his crib and said, “Joey, Daddy loves you.” Barely awake, he rolled his head up slightly to look at me, lazily lifted one arm, and slowly waved. Again, it was that nonverbal communication that happens when toddlers figure out that they can tell grownups what they want but lack the words to get their point across. In this case, he was saying, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Love ya too. See you in the morning. Close the door on your way out.”

Moments like those are the best part of being a dad.

All-State Teams: Maryland-Delaware-Washington, D.C.

2009-03-22T02:14:00.001-05:00

C Chris Widger (1995-2006) 435 H Wilmington, DE
1B Jimmie Foxx (1925-45) 534 HR, 1922 RBI, .325 BA Sudlersville, MD
2B Cupid Childs (1888-1901) .306 BA, 1214 R Calvert County, MD
3B Frank Baker (1908-22) .307 BA, 96 HR Trappe, MD
SS Cal Ripken Jr. (1981-2001) 3184 H, 431 HR, 1695 RBI Havre de Grace, MD
OF Al Kaline (1953-74) 3007 H, 399 HR Baltimore, MD
OF Babe Ruth (1914-35) 714 HR, 2217 RBI, 2174 H Baltimore, MD
OF Brady Anderson (1988-2002) 210 HR, 315 SB Silver Spring, MD
DH Harold Baines (1980-2001) 2866 H, 384 HR, 1628 RBI Easton, MD

SP Lefty Grove (1925-41) 300-141 W-L, 3.06 ERA Lonaconing, MD
SP Sadie McMahon (1889-97) 173-127 W-L, 3.51 ERA Wilmington, DE
SP Bobby Mathews (1871-87) 297-248 W-L, 2.89 ERA Baltimore, MD
SP Vic Willis (1898-1910) 249-205 W-L, 2.63 ERA Cecil County, MD
SP Doc White (1901-13) 189-156 W-L, 2.39 ERA Washington, D.C.

RP Steve Farr (1984-94) 132 SV LaPlata, MD
RP Ray Moore (1952-63) 46 SV Meadows, MD
RP Brendan Donnelly (2002-pres) 26-9 W-L, 3.12 ERA Washington, D.C.
RP Eddie Rommel (1920-32) 171-119 W-L, 29 SV Baltimore, MD
RP Babe Ruth (1914-35) 94-46 W-L, 2.28 ERA Baltimore, MD

MGR Dallas Green 454-478 W-L, 1 World Series Newport, DE

All-Time Teams: Countries In The World Baseball Classic

2009-03-18T20:28:00.003-05:00

This has been sitting around in one of my folders for ten days or so - I never got around to posting it because I didn't feel like fooling with the HTML to create all the tables. So, I'm not creating the tables. Problem solved.

A note: the teams are broken down according to their original groupings. This handicaps Group C slightly because I opted not to include players from the United States (they have the All-State Teams; it's only fair), leaving them with Canada, Venezuela, and Italy. Slim pickins. All other countries had to have at least one representative, which is how Marino Pieretti earned his place on this list.

Group A (China, Chinese Taipei, Japan, South Korea)

C Kenji Johjima (2006-pres) .272 BA Nagasaki, Japan
1B Hee Seop Choi (2002-05) 40 HR Chun-Nam, South Korea
2B Tadahito Iguchi (2005-pres) 44 HR Tokyo, Japan
3B Akinori Iwamura (2007-pres) .279 BA Ehime, Japan
SS Kazuo Matsui (2004-pres) .277 BA Osaka, Japan
OF Dave Roberts (1999-pres) 243 SB Okinawa, Japan
OF Hideki Matsui (2003-pres) 112 HR, 507 RBI Kanazawa, Japan
OF Ichiro Suzuki (2001-pres) 1805 H, .331 BA Kasugai, Japan

SP Chan Ho Park (1994-pres) 117-92 W-L Kongju, South Korea
SP Hideo Nomo (1995-2008) 123-109 W-L Osaka, Japan
SP Daisuke Matsuzaka (2007-pres) 33-15 W-L Tokyo, Japan
SP Tomo Ohka (1999-2007) 559 SO Kyoto, Japan
SP Chien-Ming Wang (2005-pres) 54-20 W-L Tainan, Taiwan

RP Byung-Hyun Kim (1999-2007) 86 SV Gwangju, South Korea
RP Kazuhiro Sasaki (2000-03) 129 SV Sendai City, Japan
RP Shigetoshi Hasegawa (1997-2005) 517 G Kobe, Japan
RP Masanori Murakami (1964-65) 3.43 ERA Otsuki, Japan
RP Takashi Saito (2006-pres) 81 SV Miyagi, Japan

Group B (Australia, Cuba, Mexico, South Africa)

C Alex Trevino (1978-90) Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico
1B Rafael Palmeiro (1986-2005) 569 HR, 3020 H Havana, Cuba
2B Joe Quinn (1884-1901) 1797 H Sydney, Australia
SS Bert Campaneris (1964-83) 2249 H, 649 SB Pueblo Nuevo, Cuba
3B Vinny Castilla (1991-2006) 320 HR, 1105 RBI Oaxaca, Oaxaca, Mexico
OF Jose Canseco (1985-2001) 462 HR, 1407 RBI Havana, Cuba
OF Minnie Minoso (1949-64) 1963 H, 186 HR Havana, Cuba
OF Tony Oliva (1962-76) 1917 H, 220 HR Pinar Del Rio, Cuba

UTIL Martin Dihigo Matanzas, Cuba

SP Mike Cuellar (1959-77) 185-130 W-L Santa Clara, Cuba
SP Dolf Luque (1914-35) 194-179 W-L Havana, Cuba
SP Livan Hernandez (1996-pres) 147-139 W-L Villa Clara, Cuba
SP Luis Tiant (1964-82) 229-172 W-L Marianao, Cuba
SP Fernando Valenzuela (1980-97) 173-153 W-L Navojoa, Sonora, Mexico

RP Graeme Lloyd (1993-2003) 568 G Victoria, Australia
RP Tony Fossas (1988-99) 567 G Havana, Cuba
RP Danys Baez (2001-07) 114 SV Pinar Del Rio, Cuba
RP Aurelio Lopez (1974-87) 93 SV Tecamachalco, Puebla, Mexico
RP Enrique Romo (1977-82) 44-33, 52 SV Santa Rosalia, Baja California, Mexico
RP Joakim Soria (2007-08) 59 SV, 2.05 ERA Monclova

Mgr Joe Quinn (1895-99) 23-132 W-L Sydney, Australia

Group C (Canada, Venezuela, Italy, United States)

C Russell Martin (2006-pres) .285 BA East York, Ont., Canada
1B Andres Galarraga (1985-2004) 399 HR Caracas, Venezuela
2B Manny Trillo (1973-1989) 1562 H Caripito, Venezuela
3B Miguel Cabrera (2003-pres) 175 HR, 1022 H Maracay, Venezuela
SS Omar Vizquel (1989-pres) 2657 H Caracas, Venezuela
OF Jeff Heath (1936-49) 194 HR, .293 BA Fort William, Ont., Canada
OF Larry Walker (1989-2005) 383 HR, .313 BA Maple Ridge, BC, Canada
OF Magglio Ordonez (1997-pres) 268 HR Caracas, Venezuela

SP Fergie Jenkins (1965-83) 284-226 W-L, 3192 SO Chatham, Ont., Canada
SP Russ Ford (1909-15) 2.59 ERA Brandon, Manitoba, Canada
SP Johan Santana (2000-pres) 109-51 W-L Tovar, Venezuela
SP Wilson Alvarez (1989-2005) 102-92 W-L Maracaibo, Venezuela
SP Freddy Garcia (1999-2008) 118-77 W-L Caracas, Venezuela

RP Claude Raymond (1959-71) 83 SV St. Jean, Quebec, Canada
RP John Hiller (1965-80) 125 SV Toronto, Ont., Canada
RP Eric Gagne (1999-2008) 187 SV Montreal, Quebec, Canada
RP Marino Pieretti (1945-50) 30-38 W-L, 8 SV Lucca, Italy
RP Ugueth Urbina (1995-2005) 237 SV Caracas, Venezuela
RP Francisco Rodriguez (2002-08) 208 SV Caracas, Venezuela

Mgr Ozzie Guillen (2004-08) 433-378 W-L Ocumare Del Tuy, Venezuela

Pool D (Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Netherlands, Panama)

C Ivan Rodriguez (1991-pres) 2605 H, .301 BA Manati, Puerto Rico
1B Albert Pujols (2001-pres) 319 HR, .334 BA Santo Domingo, DR
2B Roberto Alomar (1988-2004) 2724 H, 1508 R Ponce, Puerto Rico
3B Aramis Ramirez (1998-pres) 249 HR Santo Domingo, DR
SS Tony Fernandez (1983-2001) 2276 H San Pedro de Macoris, DR

UTIL Julio Franco (1982-2007) 2586 H Hato Mayor, DR
DH David Ortiz (1997-pres) 289 HR Santo Domingo, DR

OF Roberto Clemente (1955-72) 3000 H, 1416 R, .317 BA Carolina, Puerto Rico
OF Sammy Sosa (1989-2007) 609 HR, 1667 RBI San Pedro de Macoris, DR
OF Manny Ramirez (1993-pres) 527 HR, 1725 RBI, .314 BA Santo Domingo, DR

SP Bert Blyleven (1970-92) 287-250 W-L, 3701 SO Zeist, Netherlands
SP Juan Marichal (1960-75) 243-142 W-L, 2.89 ERA Laguna Verde, DR
SP Pedro Martinez (1992-pres) 214-99 W-L, 2.91 ERA, 3117 SO Manoguayabo, DR
SP Ramon Martinez (1988-2001) 135-88 W-L, 3.67 ERA Santo Domingo, DR
SP Jose Rijo (1984-2002) 116-91 W-L, 3.24 ERA San Cristobal, DR

RP Mariano Rivera (1996-pres) 482 SV, 2.29 ERA Panama City, Panama
RP Roberto Hernandez (1991-2007) 326 SV Santurce, Puerto Rico
RP Willie Hernandez (1977-89) 147 SV Aguada, Puerto Rico
RP Jose Mesa (1987-2007) 321 SV Pueblo Viejo, DR
RP Armando Benitez (1994-pres) 289 SV Ramon Santana, DR
RP Francisco Cordero (1999-pres) 211 SV Santo Domingo, DR

Mgr. Felipe Alou (1992-2006) 1033-1021 W-L Haina, DR

Does Winning The Rookie Of The Year And MVP Awards Guarantee Any Love From The Hall Of Fame?

2009-03-09T00:06:00.005-05:00

That MLB '09 commercial with Dustin Pedroia and his MVP trophy got me thinking tonight: how many players who won both the Rookie of the Year award and either the MVP or Cy Young awards have later been inducted into the Hall of Fame?

By my count, 23 players have won both awards - 18 everyday players and five pitchers. Of the 18 MVP winners, five are either still active or not yet eligible for the Hall of Fame: Pedroia, Ryan Howard, Albert Pujols, Ichiro Suzuki, and Jeff Bagwell. I count three guaranteed Hall of Famers in that group: Pujols, Ichiro, and Bagwell. With Pedroia and Howard, it's way too soon to tell, although the latter certainly isn't hurting his case by crushing homeruns at a ridiculous rate. Hey, it worked for Harmon Killebrew and Reggie Jackson, right? Pedroia doesn't have that cache to his credit, which means the final resting place for his legacy could depend on how the Red Sox fare over the next few years. If they get to the playoffs annually and win another World Series or three, it will make him look good. If they don't, he becomes less impressive by default.

The other thirteen are as follows:

Player	ROY	MVP	HOF?
Jose Canseco	1986	1988	No
Cal Ripken	1982	1983, 1991	Yes
Andre Dawson	1977	1987	No
Fred Lynn	1975	1975	No
Thurman Munson	1970	1976	No
Johnny Bench	1968	1970, 1972	Yes
Rod Carew	1967	1977	Yes
Dick Allen	1964	1972	No
Pete Rose	1963	1973	No
Orlando Cepeda	1958	1967	Yes
Frank Robinson	1956	1961, 1966	Yes
Willie Mays	1951	1954, 1965	Yes
Jackie Robinson	1947	1949	Yes

The first four are in the Hall of Fame, and seven of the thirteen overall. Each of the six who are not in Cooperstown is a borderline candidate with compelling arguments to be made for and against his induction: Rose was a first ballot selection if not for the fact that he bet on baseball; Allen was a tremendous offensive talent who lost major points for "attitude problems"; Munson was an exceptional catcher before his untimely death (although most expert opinions I've heard argue that he was already on the downside of his career when he died); Lynn was, like Dwight Evan, nearly Jim Rice's equal at the plate and a far superior player in the field; Dawson was a terrific player who didn't get on base all that often and won a largely undeserved MVP award (and could very well be elected in the next year or two); and Canseco not only admitted that he used steroids, but blew the whistle on other guys who used.

As for pitchers, I'm not going to put them in a table - it's easy enough to say that of the five guys who won both awards, only Tom Seaver is in the Hall of Fame. Unlike the everyday players, however, the remaining four pitchers were all very good, but not even close to Hall of Famers. Dwight Gooden won his awards in 1984 and 1985 before destroying his career with drugs; Fernando Valenzuela won both the MVP and Cy Young awards in 1981 - overuse eventually limited his effectiveness; Rick Sutcliffe, like Dawson, wasn't the best choice for a major award in 1984 - it probably should have gone to Gooden, but voters were swayed by Sutcliffe's 16-1 record for the Cubs; and Don Newcombe, the only pitcher to win the Rookie of the Year, Cy Young award, and Most Valuable Player award in his career, lost two years to military service and, if memory serves, struggled with alcohol near the end of his playing days.

My Favorite Movie Quotes, Volume 22

2009-03-08T23:48:00.003-05:00

Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008)

Without exaggeration, there were probably fifty quotes I could have used from Forgetting Sarah Marshall (including just about everything that came out of Russell Brand's mouth - our introduction to him, where he's searching desperately for a lost flip-flop, is priceless). I chose this one because it's the point where Peter validates what we've been thinking about Aldous Snow for most of the movie - he may be a conceited jerk who screws anything that moves without regard for anyone else's feelings, but he's also one of the coolest guys you could ever hope to meet.

Aldous Snow: Actually, Peter, I wanted to tell you, I was listening to Sarah's iPod the other day, and amidst the interminable dross that's on that thing, I found one track that I quite liked. So I checked what it was, and it was actually one of yours, and it kind of reminded me of a dark, gothic Neil Diamond. It's great.

Peter Bretter: That's, like, exactly what I'm going for.

Aldous Snow: Right, yeah.

Peter Bretter: [clearly disappointed] Fuck you're cool! It's so hard to say, because, like, I hate you in so many ways.

I Dare You To Find A Better Commercial

2009-03-04T23:41:00.004-05:00

Since it's debut during the Super Bowl, my wife has referred to this as the "Joey and Taliyah" commercial, and with good reason: I watch it and totally imagine the two of them sitting there gabbing (except Taliyah talks a lot more than Joey does. We'll have to work on the lyrics to "Broken Wings," though.

The Majesty of Kenny Loggins

2009-03-02T19:31:00.005-05:00

Remember "Pop-Up Video"? My wife and I were watching a mini-marathon over the weekend when Kenny Loggins and "Danger Zone" appeared. Vicki was beside herself - "Top Gun" was one of her favorite movies as a kid, the type of movie she could basically recite from memory if necessary. As she rocked out, I wondered if Loggins might be the lyrical answer to John Williams (without the awards and staying power, of course - other than that, they're practically twins). He had a good run there in the 1980s, picking up an Oscar nomination for the theme song to "Footloose" and contributing timeless tunes to the "Top Gun" and "Caddyshack" soundtracks.

He performed two songs on the "Top Gun" soundtrack but wasn't nominated for either, while Berlin's "Take My Breath Away" (music and lyrics by Giorgio Moroder and Tom Whitlock) won the award as the year's best song. Doesn't matter - the video for "Danger Zone" is still one of the best combinations of awesome (fighter jets are just plain cool) and awful (closeups of Kenny Loggins in aviator sunglasses are not) in music history.

As for the last of the Loggins Trio - there is no way you can listen to "I'm Alright" and not picture a dancing gopher. No way.

All-State Teams: New Jersey

2009-03-02T15:38:00.002-05:00

C	Jeff Torborg (1964-73)	caught 3 no-hitters	Plainfield, NJ
1B	Eric Karros (1991-2004)	284 HR	Hackensack, NJ
2B	Eric Young (1992-2006)	465 SB	New Brunswick, NJ
SS	Derek Jeter (1995-present)	2535 H, .316 BA, 1467 R	Pequannock, NJ
3B	Billy Shindle (1886-98)	318 SB	Gloucester, NJ
OF	Billy Hamilton (1888-1901)	.344 BA, 912 SB	Newark, NJ
OF	Goose Goslin (1921-38)	2735 H, 248 HR, 1609 RBI	Salem, NJ
OF	Joe Medwick (1932-48)	2471 H, 205 HR	Carteret, NJ

SP	Don Newcombe (1949-60)	149-90 W-L, 3.56 ERA	Madison, NJ
SP	Kid Gleason (1888-95)	138-131 W-L	Camden, NJ
SP	Al Downing (1961-77)	123-107 W-L	Trenton, NJ
SP	Al Leiter (1987-2005)	162-132 W-L	Toms River, NJ
SP	Andy Messersmith (1968-79)	130-99 W-L	Toms River, NJ
SP	Johnny Vander Meer (1937-51)	119-121 W-L	Prospect Park, NJ

RP	Joe Black (1952-57)	30-12 W-L, 25 SV	Plainfield, NJ
RP	Joe Borowski (1995-present)	131 SV	Bayonne, NJ
RP	Rawly Eastwick (1974-81)	68 SV	Camden, NJ
RP	Ron Perranoski (1961-73)	179 SV	Paterson, NJ
RP	Jim Bouton (1962-78)	3.57 ERA	Newark, NJ

Mgr

Eddie Kasko (1970-73)

345-295 W-L

Linden, NJ

All-State Teams: Pennsylvania

2009-02-26T21:36:00.002-05:00

C	Roy Campanella (1948-57)	242 HR, 3 MVP awards	Philadelphia, PA
1B	Dick Allen (1963-77)	351 HR, 1119 RBI	Wampum, PA
2B	Nellie Fox (1947-65)	2663 H	St. Thomas, PA
SS	Honus Wagner (1897-1917)	3415 H, 1732 RBI, 1736 R	Chartiers, PA
3B	Buddy Bell (1972-89)	201 HR, 2514 H	Pittsburgh, PA
OF	Ken Griffey, Jr. (1989-present)	611 HR, 1772 RBI, 2680 H	Donora, PA
OF	Stan Musial (1941-63)	3630 H, 475 HR, 1951 RBI	Donora, PA
OF	Reggie Jackson (1967-87)	563 HR, 1702 RBI, 2584 H	Wyncote, PA

SP	Ed Walsh (1904-17)	195-126 W-L, 1.82 ERA	Plains, PA
SP	Rube Waddell (1897-1910)	193-143 W-L, 2.16 ERA, 2316 SO	Bradford, PA
SP	Christy Mathewson (1900-16)	373-188 W-L, 2.13, 2502 SO	Factoryville, PA
SP	Mike Mussina (1990-2008)	270-153 W-L, 2813 SO	Williamsport, PA
SP	Eddie Plank (1901-17)	326-194 W-L, 2.35 ERA	Gettysburg, PA
SP	Jamie Moyer (1986-2008)	246-185 W-L	Sellersville, PA
RP	Joe Page (1944-54)	76 SV	Cherry Valley, PA
RP	Gary Lavelle (1974-87)	136 SV, 2.93 ERA	Scranton, PA
RP	Bruce Sutter (1976-88)	300 SV, 2.83 ERA	Lancaster, PA
RP	Sparky Lyle (1967-82)	238 SV, 2.88 ERA	DuBois, PA
RP	Gene Garber (1969-88)	218 SV	Lancaster, PA

Mgr

Joe McCarthy (1926-50)

2125-1333 W-L, 9 pennants, 7 World Series

Philadelphia, PA

All-State Teams: New York

2009-02-25T22:20:00.003-05:00

I briefly flirted with the idea of doing two teams, one for players from New York City and one for players from the rest of the state, but ultimately decided against it. Though I have to be honest - it hurt a lot to keep Hank Greenberg on the sidelines. He's one of my heroes. Also, you may notice that I decided to include a designate hitter on this team. That's all about Edgar, right there. It was the least I could do for arguably the best DH ever.

C	Joe Torre (1960-77)	2342 H, 252 HR	Brooklyn, NY
1B	Lou Gehrig (1923-39)	493 HR, .340 BA, 1888 R, 1995 RBI	New York, NY
2B	Craig Biggio (1988-2007)	3060 H, 1844 R, 668 2B, 414 SB	Smithtown, NY
SS	George Davis (1890-1909)	2660 H, 1539 R, 1437 RBI, 616 SB	Cohoes, NY
3B	Alex Rodriguez (1994-present)	2404 H, 553 HR, 1606 RBI, 1605 R	New York, NY
OF	Rocky Colavito (1955-68)	374 HR	New York, NY
OF	Willie Keeler (1892-1910)	2932 H, 1719 R, .341 BA	Brooklyn, NY
OF	Carl Yastrzemski (1961-83)	3419 H, 452 HR, 1816 R, 1844 RBI	Southampton, NY
DH	Edgar Martinez (1987-2004)	2247 H, 309 HR, .312 BA	New York, NY

SP	Mickey Welch (1880-92)	307-210 W-L, 2.71 ERA	Brooklyn, NY
SP	Warren Spahn (1942-65)	363-245 W-L, 3.09 ERA, 2583 SO	Buffalo, NY
SP	Charley Radbourn (1881-91)	309-195 W-L, 2.67 ERA	Rochester, NY
SP	Jim Palmer (1965-84)	268-152 W-L, 2.86 ERA	New York, NY
SP	Sandy Koufax (1955-66)	165-87 W-L, 2.76 ERA, 2396 SO	Brooklyn, NY
SP	Whitey Ford (1950-67)	236-106 W-L, 2.75 ERA	New York, NY
RP	Roy Face (1953-69)	104-95 W-L, 193 SV	Stephentown, NY
RP	John Franco (1984-2005)	2.89 ERA, 424 SV	Brooklyn, NY
RP	Dave Giusti (1962-77)	145 SV	Seneca Falls, NY
RP	Billy Koch (1999-2004)	163 SV	Rockville Centre, NY
RP	Don McMahon (1957-74)	2.96 ERA, 153 SV	Brooklyn, NY

Mgr

Joe Torre (1977-2008)

2151-1848 W-L, 6 pennants, 4 World Series

Brooklyn, NY

All-State Teams: Massachusetts

2009-02-24T22:44:00.002-05:00

Again, a bit of personal bias crept into this list: Skip Lockwood moved his family to Rye when I was a kid (one of his daughters was in my grade in school - I had a huge crush on her in junior high...feel free to file that under, "Why, exactly, should I care?") and was heavily involved in the administration of the local Little League when I played.

C	Mickey Cochrane (1925-37)	.320 BA	Bridgewater, MA
1B	Jeff Bagwell (1991-2005)	2314 H, 449 HR, 1529 RBI	Boston, MA
2B	Jerry Remy (1975-84)	.275 BA	Fall River, MA
SS	Rabbit Maranville (1912-35)	2605 H	Springfield, MA
3B:	Pie Traynor (1920-37)	2416 H, .320 BA	Framingham, MA
OF	Joe Kelley (1891-1908)	2220 H, .317 BA, 443 SB	Cambridge, MA
OF	Jimmy Ryan (1885-1903)	2502 H, .306 BA, 418 SB	Clinton, MA
OF	Tony Conigliaro (1964-75)	166 HR, 516 RBI	Revere, MA
SP	John Clarkson (1882-94)	328-178 W-L, 2.81 ERA	Cambridge, MA
SP	Tom Glavine (1987-present)	305-203 W-L, 2607 SO	Concord, MA
SP	Tim Keefe (1880-93)	342-225 W-L, 2.62 ERA	Cambridge, MA
SP	Jack Chesbro (1899-1909)	198-132 W-L, 2.68 ERA	North Adams, MA
SP	Candy Cummings (1872-77)	145-94 W-L, 2.49 ERA	Ware, MA
RP	Steve Bedrosian (1981-95)	184 SV	Methuen, MA
RP	Jeff Reardon (1979-94)	367 SV	Dalton, MA
RP	Stu Miller (1952-68)	154 SV, 3.24 ERA	Northampton, MA
RP	Skip Lockwood (1969-80)	68 SV	Boston, MA
RP	Wayne Granger (1968-76)	108 SV, 3.14 ERA	Springfield, MA
RP	Wilbur Wood (1961-78)	164-156 W-L, 3.24	Cambridge, MA
Mgr	Connie Mack (1894-1950)	3731-3948 W-L, 9 pennants, 5 World Series	East Brookfield, MA

All-State Teams: New England

2009-02-23T22:41:00.004-05:00

A few months ago, I started putting together all-time teams for each of the fifty states, but scrapped the project before getting it off the ground. Last week, I decided to start working on a revival. Instead of trying to piece together lineups from relatively small states, however, I'll pool some of the talent to create more impressive teams.

Up first: New England (sans Massachusetts - the commonwealth has more than enough resources to field a full squad).

Most of the players below were chosen according to merit. The only one I can think of that truly doesn't belong is Walter Woods, the relief pitcher from New Hampshire. Woods' presence on the team is easily explained by the fact that he is the only player in major league history from the town of Rye, where I spent the first 23 years of my life and much of my family still resides. How could I pass him over given those circumstances?

C: Carlton Fisk (1969-93) – 2499 G, 2356 H, 376 HR, 1330 RBI – Bellow Falls, VT
1B: Roger Connor (1880-97) – 1997 G, 2467 H, 1620 R, 138 HR, 233 3B, .317 BA - Waterbury, CT
2B: Napoleon Lajoie (1896-1916) – 2480 G, 3242 H, 1504 R, 1599 RBI, .338 BA – Woonsocket, RI
SS: Tommy Corcoran (1890-1907) – 2252 H, 387 SB – New Haven, CT
3B: Arlie Latham (1880-1909) – 1627 G, 1833 H, 1478 R, 739 SB – West Lebanon, NH
OF: Jim O’Rourke (1872-1893) – 2643 H, .311 BA, 1729 R – Bridgeport, CT
OF: Hugh Duffy (1888-1906) – 2282 H, 1552 R, .324 BA – Cranston, RI
OF: Jim Piersall (1950-67) – 1604 H, 104 HR – Waterbury, CT

SP: Mike Flanagan (1975-92) – 167-143 W-L, 3.90 ERA – Manchester, NH
SP: Steve Blass (1964-74) – 103-76 W-L, 3.63 ERA – Canaan, CT
SP: Bill Hutchison (1884-97) – 183-163 W-L, 3.59 ERA – New Haven, CT
SP: Ray Fisher (1910-20) – 100-94 W-L, 2.82 ERA – Middlebury, VT
SP: Bob Tewksbury (1986-1998) – 110-102 W-L, 3.92 ERA – Concord, NH

RP: Bob Stanley (1977-89) – 115-97 W-L, 132 SV – Portland, ME
RP: Clem Labine (1950-62) – 77-56 W-L, 96 SV – Lincoln, RI
RP: Walt Woods (1898-1900) – 18-26 W-L, 3.34 ERA – Rye, NH
RP: Ricky Bottalico (1994-2005) – 33-42 W-L, 116 SV – New Britain, CT
RP: Rob Dibble (1988-95) – 27-25 W-L, 89 SV – Bridgeport, CT
RP: Bill Swift (1985-98) – 94-78 W-L, 3.95 ERA, 27 SV – Portland, ME

Manager: Frank Selee (1890-1905) – 1284-862, 5 pennants – Amherst, NH

Red Sox Closers From Smith To Papelbon

2009-02-18T20:48:00.005-05:00

The local radio guys mentioned this afternoon that Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon is just twenty saves shy of the team's all-time record as he enters his fourth season. For comparison sake, they threw out a few names from Sox bullpens past, names like Derek Lowe...Jeff Reardon...Tom Gordon...oh, the memories.

The Home Team's discussion actually helps segue into something I've been thinking about posting for awhile now - a list of the pitchers that preceded Papelbon in the closer role.

1988: Lee Smith, 29 saves
After Wes Gardner led the team with 10 saves in 1987, the team picked up Smith from the Cubs in exchange for Calvin Schiraldi and Al Nipper. There's not a lot I can remember about the deal at the time, but I do recall a big deal being made about the fact that Smith had saved 30+ games for four consecutive seasons. Of course, he missed the mark with the Sox.

1989: Lee Smith, 25 saves
He didn't get there in Year Two, either, was rendered unnecessary after the off-season acquisition of Jeff Reardon, and was eventually dealt to St. Louis in May 1990. The guy he was traded for, Tom Brunansky, was working on a string of eight straight 20-homer seasons. His first year with the Sox, he hit 15.

1990: Jeff Reardon, 21 saves
Like Smith, Reardon was working on an impressive streak when he came to Boston - five consecutive 30-save seasons, including two with 40+. He joined the Red Sox, didn't record his second save until mid-May, and missed nearly two months late in the season on his way to the lackluster total you see above.

1991: Jeff Reardon, 40 saves
Finally, a guy who was supposed to be a solid closer actually posted some good numbers. It was his third 40-save season, all with different teams.

1992: Jeff Reardon, 27 saves
Reardon set the career record for saves in 1992, notching number 342 in a 1-0 win over the Yankees on June 15, then was dealt to Atlanta at the trade deadline for a couple minor leaguers.

1993: Jeff Russell, 33 saves
Six months after being traded from Texas to Oakland in the deal that brought Jose Canseco to the Rangers, Russell signed as a free agent with the Red Sox. He had a good year (172 OPS+) that was wasted on a mediocre team (80-82).

1994: Jeff Russell, 12 saves; Ken Ryan, 13 saves
A tale of two seasons: Russell closed from April through early June, then "Closer of the Future" Ryan stepped in and handled duties for the last six weeks or so. Safe to say the latter pitcher would have hit twenty if not for the strike that started in mid-August.

1995: Rick Aguilera, 20 saves
The Sox picked up Aguilera in July, sending hot prospect Frank Rodriguez and a player to be named to Minnesota. He liked Boston so much that after helping the team to the division title, he declared free agency and immediately returned to the Twins, where they converted him into a starter for 1996 (8-6, 5.42) before sending him back to the bullpen for two seasons. They ultimately repaid his loyalty by trading him again, to the Cubs in 1999.

1996: Heathcliff Slocumb, 31 saves
Remember Ken Ryan, the "Closer of the Future"? Sure you do, it was only two years ago. Just before spring training, he and Atlantic League hero Glenn Murray were shipped off to Philadelphia for Slocumb. It paid dividends for awhile.

1997: Heathcliff Slocumb, 17 saves
Seventeen saves by the trade deadline seems decent. A 5.79 ERA doesn't. Fans were glad to see him shipped off to Seattle, even if only for a couple of no-name stiffs named Derek Lowe and Jason Varitek. It's only one of the most lopsided deals in major league history. So really, we should be thanking Heathcliff for being not very good in 1997.

1998: Tom Gordon, 46 saves
Gordon spent his first season and a half in Boston as a starter before assuming the closer role when Slocumb was shown the door. He had eleven saves in 1997, then piled up 46 in dominant fashion in 1998. Of course, that didn't translate to the playoffs: two games, three innings, four walks, three runs.

1999: Derek Lowe, 15 saves; Tim Wakefield, 15 saves
There's that Lowe guy again. The Slocumb trade might just pay off in the end. But that comes later. More importantly, this is the season that everyone points to when noting Wakefield's willingness to do anything for the good of the team. The details: eleven starts in his first fourteen appearances, then 25 straight relief outings and eleven saves, then six starts in his last ten games. He did a little bit of everything.

2000: Derek Lowe, 42 saves
And here he is, the guy who came to Boston in return for Heathcliff Slocumb. Pretty good year that could've been even better if the team had some decent starting pitching to get him the ball with the lead (the middle relief was pretty good, though - Rich Garces, Hipolito Pichardo and Rod Beck combined to go 17-4). I'm not positive, but his 42 saves out of 85 wins might be the best percentage in team history.

2001: Derek Lowe, 24 saves
2001 was a decent year on paper for Lowe, but it also featured the first widespread usage of "The Derek Lowe Face". By season's end, he was on his way to the starting rotation.

2002: Ugueth Urbina, 40 saves
Urbina came over for some spare parts at the 2001 trade deadline (say what you will about the quality of their closers, the team usually doesn't give up much to get them) and took over the role full-time the following season. I was actually in the ballpark when he recorded his fortieth save on the last day of the 2002 season. Convicted of attempted murder in his native Venezuela in 2007, he is the second Red Sox pitcher to record 40 saves in a season and be charged with a major crime - Jeff Reardon allegedly committed armed robbery in 2005 (he was later found not guilty by reason of insanity)

2003: Byung-Hyun Kim, 16 saves
Ah, the closer-by-committee. Brandon Lyon gets honorable mention here for the way he held down the fort with nine early saves. Kim took the reins for awhile, but had fallen out of favor by the playoffs, at which time Scott Williamson, Alan Embree, and Mike Timlin began kicking ass and taking names. Kim only appeared in one postseason game, throwing two-thirds of an inning in the ALDS.

2004: Keith Foulke, 32 saves
The solution to closer-by-committee. Foulke came over from Oakland as a free agent in the offseason and had a stellar regular season before taking it to another level entirely in the playoffs. Fourteen innings, one run, 19 strikeouts, countless jams evaded - they couldn't have won the ALCS or the World Series without him. He is one of the most underrated heroes in Red Sox history.

2005: Keith Foulke, 15 saves; Mike Timlin, 13 saves
Foulke wasn't the same after the 2004 postseason - he really destroyed his body for the good of the team - so it shouldn't have been a surprise when he faltered. Of course, the fans booed him. We're good like that. Fortunately, Timlin stepped in and saved the day (HA! No pun intended...really, there wasn't).

2006 and beyond: Jonathan Papelbon
He does stupid dances. He walks around with beer boxes on his head after big wins. He makes an "O" face on the mound before he pitches. He claims that his dog ate the game ball he delivered for the final out in the 2007 World Series. I get the feeling that he's the sort of guy who, if he's on another team, annoys the crap out of you. When he's on your team, however, he's like the crazy cousin who graduated from college six years ago but still heads back to campus to drink his face off every weekend and hit on teenage girls. He's a real life Wooderson.

Unanimous?

2009-02-14T09:34:00.003-05:00

Michael Jordan is a finalist for the Basketball Hall of Fame this year, the first that he is eligible, and will clearly be included when the list of inductees is announced in April.

I don't know the voting procedures for the Springfield shrine, but here's that occurred to me when I read the news story announcing Jordan's candidacy: if baller Hallers were voted on in a way similar to their baseball counterparts (I'm pretty sure they aren't), would Jordan be the first player ever to be voted in unanimously?

That's one of the things about Cooperstown: no one has ever received every single vote (aside from Lou Gehrig, I believe, but that was a special election for a very sick man; anyone who didn't vote for him needed an immediate soul check). Observers thought Rickey Henderson might have had a chance this year - right up until 28 people failed to include him on their ballots. If Rickey, with his remarkable career totals, wasn't unanimous, maybe no one will ever be (the new sexy pick for unanimity? Greg Maddux).

But Jordan...Jordan is a special case, a unique blend of some of sports' best attributes in one mind and body. He has the numbers of Barry Bonds (without the steroid controversy), the championships of Joe DiMaggio, the defensive wizardry of Ozzie Smith, the competitiveness of Pete Rose. He was a great player in high school, a great player in college, a great player in the NBA. He was, without question, one of the top two or three players to ever pick up a basketball.

Yet somehow, in a baseball-style vote, I'm guessing at least five writers would find some reason to leave him off the first ballot. Call it a hunch.

I Need A Fedora And A Cigar, Please

2009-02-13T23:48:00.005-05:00

I finally decided what I want to be when I grow up...

Bert Sugar.

There is nobody cooler than this guy.

Hossli.com (Fair warning: the link is in German)

"With...And": Harold And Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay

2009-02-07T23:15:00.002-05:00

And...Neil Patrick Harris as "Neil Patrick Harris"

NPH's performances in the two "Harold and Kumar" movies represent some of the finest work in cinematic history.

A Fun Little Tennis Fact

2009-02-07T19:30:00.003-05:00

While looking at historical Grand Slam winners in tennis earlier today, I noticed something about the women's list that appealed to my sense of order and neatness in the statistical record

Margaret Smith Court, one of the greatest players ever, won her first Grand Slam at the 1960 Australian Open. Thirteen years later, at the 1973 US Open, she won her last.

Several months later, 19-year-old Chris Evert won the 1974 French Open, her first Grand Slam in four tries (she had reached the finals in three of the previous four tournaments, losing to Court, Billie Jean King, and Evonne Goolagong). She won seventeen more Grand Slam singles, the last coming against Martina Navratilova at Roland Garros in 1986.

The next year, on the same court, Steffi Graf won her first Grand Slam, beating Navratilova in three sets (Navratilova exacted her revenge at a later date, topping Graf at Wimbledon and Flushing Meadows later in the year). In the next thirteen years, Graf won more Grand Slams than anyone except Court, 22 of them in all; like Evert, she bookended her major wins nicely, again going three sets against Martina (Hingis, this time) at the French Open.

At that same French Open, Serena Williams teamed with her sister Venus to win the doubles title over Hingis and Anna Kournikova. Later in the year, at the US Open, she took home her first singles title, beating Hingis in straight sets.

So, to recap:

Margaret Smith Court wins her first in 1960, her last in 1973;
Chris Evert wins her first in 1974, her last in 1986;
Steffi Graf wins her first in 1987, her last in 1999;
Serena Williams wins her first in 1999.

There were obviously other outstanding players active between 1960 and 2009 (King, Navratilova, Monica Seles), but I found it interesting that the careers of these four greats* bookended so neatly. There are 74 Grand Slam titles on display between them, plus whatever else Serena wins, none of which were won within the parameters of another's career.

*Some might object to the inclusion of Serena Williams as one of the "greats". I included her for two reasons: one, the location of her Grand Slam wins fit with the rest of the general outline, and two, I think there's this general feeling out there that she could've had at least a couple more titles under her belt if she had chosen to apply herself more fully to the game.

Pick A Number Between 1 And 10

2009-02-04T00:05:00.002-05:00

Something just occurred to me while taking a quiz on Retired Yankees Numbers at Sporcle.

The release of Joe Torre's book doesn't just torch a huge bridge between him and the Yankees organization. It also means that the team will likely continue to have a top ten number available for the foreseeable future.

Of numbers one through ten, eight have been retired: 1 (Billy Martin), 3 (Babe Ruth), 4 (Lou Gehrig), 5 (Joe DiMaggio), 7 (Mickey Mantle), 8 (Bill Dickey and Yogi Berra), 9 (Roger Maris) and 10 (Phil Rizzuto). Number 2 is worn by Derek Jeter and will surely be retired shortly after he hangs up his spikes.

The last of the first ten numbers is 6, worn by Torre during his highly successful tenure as Yankees manager. Until recently, its eventual retirement was virtually guaranteed; now, the question isn't whether or not it will be retired, but whether or not the team will allow players and coaches to use it immediately. Sometimes a team will grant a player or manager the honor of holding back a number without officially retiring it (like the Red Sox with Roger Clemens, Jim Rice, and Ted Williams, who waited 24 years from the end of his career to the retirement of his number 9). In other situations, they give it to anyone, even the most random, undeserving utilityman, as quickly as possible (two years after Wade Boggs left Boston, Wes Chamberlain was wearing number 26).

Nadal vs. Federer, Take Seven

2009-02-01T04:55:00.012-05:00

Why am I still awake at five o'clock in the morning? Because I refuse to let potential history pass me by without making at least a cursory attempt at witnessing it.

At the moment, Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal are playing for the Australian Open championship. A win for Federer would be the fourteenth Grand Slam title of his career, a win for Nadal would leave him needing just the US Open short of the career Grand Slam. It's worth it to stay up a little late.

Federer is currently down in sets, 1-0, as they play in the second. I might have expected Nadal to be fatigued after his epic semifinal match on Friday evening, I think it was, but he is holding his own and taking advantage of some sloppy play from Federer, who keeps hitting his shots just long. He did that last year too, in the match I live-blogged here. I still don't know the reason.

5:06 AM - You have to appreciate a match where each player constantly wins points that make you ask yourself, "Do I really need to sleep tonight?"

5:10 AM - Someone touched on an interesting point tonight, asking the question, "Will we be able to call Roger Federer the best player ever if there is one player he just can't beat?" I considered something similar last year and would have pursued it further had Nadal won the US Open: at what point do we begin to consider Nadal among the all-time greats? He still might be viewed as one-dimensional in terms of Grand Slam wins, with four of his five major wins coming at Roland Garros, but he won Wimbledon last year, and the Olympic gold medal, and if he wins the Australian today...I'm just sayin', I don't think he's all that far from at least entering the conversation.

He currently leads: 7-5, 3-2.

5:17 AM - Usually when the announcers talk about how Federer might be in trouble, I just tune them out. Not when he plays Nadal. He can pump up the volume and exert his will to defeat mere mortals. Not when he plays Nadal.

5:19 AM - Another thought on the idea of Nadal as the Greatest Of All Time: Andre Agassi won eight Grand Slams (four Australians, two US Opens, a French, and a Wimbledon) and an Olympic gold, but Pete Sampras is universally considered the better player. The biggest differences that I see are that Nadal has won more at a younger age than Agassi (5-1 at the same age) and I don't recall Agassi beating Sampras the way Nadal does Federer.

5:26 AM - I was right: Sampras was 20-14 against Agassi, including 4-1 in Grand Slam finals. The presumed better player actually holds the upper hand. Nadal is 4-2 against Federer in the same situations, pending tonight's result.

5:30 AM - I've been typing too furiously to pay a ton of attention, but from what I've seen, Federer is looking a lot better. If he can break Nadal here, he goes up 5-3 in the second set.

5:35 AM - Five break points later, Federer finally breaks Nadal to take the aforementioned 5-3 lead.

5:38 AM - Federer wins his service game and the set to tie the match at one set apiece, and that's my cue to go to bed. I blame Joey for the fact that I'm pulling a Rhoden here - he tends to wake up early and even though he's just eighteen months old, it generally takes both my wife and I to chase him around.

Fortunately, though, I have the DVR programmed to record for the next few hours (hopefully they don't switch coverage on me, as a scroll on the bottom of the screen just suggested; I'm remaining optimistic because I just can't imagine them moving this match from ESPN2 to the Tennis Channel just so Mike & Mike can be shown at its regularly scheduled time). The nice thing about this particular unit is that it has a setting that allows me to copy programs to a VHS tape. If only the one we had in Nashua had included the same features, I would have a hard copy of last year's Wimbledon classic on hand.

My Favorite Movie Quotes, Volume 21

2009-02-01T01:03:00.005-05:00

Primeval (2007)

Steven Johnson: If I have to shove you up my ass to get you through customs, you are going to America. Thank you.

Are You Surprised At My Tears, Sir?

2009-02-01T00:01:00.004-05:00

I spent the summer of 2002 working with a handful of other college students as an intern in the research library of the Baseball Hall of Fame, a job that provided both excitement (induction weekend) and drudgery (alphabetizing thousands of contract cards). Most days, the latter outweighed the former, leaving us to talk about whatever was on our minds.

One day, the topic of conversation was "Field of Dreams", specifically whether or not we broke down and cried during the last scene. Out of our group of nine or so people, only two claimed indifference to Ray Kinsella's family reunion. One was a guy from Texas who defended himself by noting that he cried at the end of "Old Yeller", the other a young lady from Pennsylvania who made no apologies for her cold-heartedness, even going so far as to state that she liked "The Sandlot" better.

I mention this now because until recently, "Field of Dreams" was the only movie that consistently brought a tear to my eye. That last scene speaks to so many things - relationships between fathers and sons, second chances, the limited acting range of Dwier Brown - that it just hits me on a different level than most films.

Lately, though, I've found that another flick effects me in a similar way: Armageddon, that American classic starring Bruce Willis, his occasional Southern accent, Ben Affleck, and an All-Star cast.

The thing that always gets me is when the team makes its triumphant return after saving Earth from annihilation. First is the obvious reunion between Liv Tyler and Ben Affleck. Aw, look at them running. Aw, look at them hugging. They're so in love! After that, we get a look at Will Patton's Chick - he's just sort of hanging out, minding his own business, when a kid bounds out from behind a line of vehicles. Is that - yes, that's his son, who we met earlier, running to welcome Dad back.

Earlier in the movie, before Chick went into space, it was established that he and his wife (maybe she's an ex-wife, maybe just a girlfriend; they aren't exactly clear on the relationship) don't have the best relationship, so much so that Chick's young son doesn't even know the identity of his father until the boy sees him on TV and the mother reveals the truth. From the dialogue, it's clear that we're supposed to blame Chick for the gap that exists between them; a good but imperfect man, he just never got the hang of being a husband and a dad, of taking responsibility for anything more than himself.

That scene at the end, though, where the boy runs out and Chick gathers him up in his arms, a bewildered but happy look on his face? That's what it's all about, because at that moment, he's not a fuck-up anymore. Anything he might have done in the past, anything he might have screwed up, is irrelevant. To his son, he's a hero.

That should be an identifiable emotion for any father. We all love our kids and want them to love us. It's almost a given. But just as much, we want them to see us as heroes, as larger than life figures who can do anything, up to and including the destruction of a giant asteroid that threatens the very existence of life on Earth. Seeing someone accomplish that, even a fictional character in a movie, is enough to bring a few tears to my eyes.

Sorry, Q - Maine Didn't Make The Cut

2009-01-30T23:27:00.005-05:00

A few weeks ago, my brother's friend Quentin noted that I had written posts about historically bad teams in the NFL, NBA, and NHL, and had done Reverse Survivor for college football and basketball, but the subject of bad teams in college hockey history was totally untouched. Well, not anymore.

Using the standings at hockeydb.com (which I'm just gonna go ahead and assume are at least reasonably accurate), I made a list of college hockey teams that won two games or less in a season. The Ivy League and the state of Michigan are well represented.

If any are missing, or if any of these don't actually belong, feel free to let me know.

1949-50 Michigan State (0-14-0)

2002-03 University of Alaska-Anchorage (1-28-7)
1990-91 Dartmouth College (1-23-4)
1988-89 Brown University (1-25-0)
1974-75 Yale University (1-21-1)

1986-87 Dartmouth College (2-22-1)
1968-69 Princeton University (2-18-0)
1959-60 Cornell University (2-19-0)
1952-53 Michigan State (2-16-0)
1951-52 Michigan Tech (2-18-0)

Cold Contagious

2009-01-29T20:33:00.003-05:00

After "Glycerine", this is probably my favorite Bush song. The best part comes at the 3:05 mark.

You have no right to calm me down
You were never that around
And I have missed, I have missed

Cold contagious
All the mighty mighty men
What you save is
what you lose out in the end
Cold contagious

I know, that makes no sense at all. None of Bush's lyrics do. It's like Gavin Rossdale used a book of Mad Libs to write their first two albums. Yet somehow, it works. I probably have a greater appreciation for their body of work than I do for any other band.

My Friends

2009-01-28T23:23:00.002-05:00

Getting Beat And Learning A Lesson From It: A Novel Concept

2009-01-28T00:16:00.005-05:00

I don't know why I didn't think of it before, what with all the ranting and raving over the 100-0 high school basketball game in Texas last week, but Lozo's post last night made me remember a team I played on that suffered a similar embarrassment and lived to tell about it.

It was in seventh grade. Early in the season, our "varsity" basketball team (the seventh and eighth graders) made the trip to nearby Hampton for a game. Two things I still remember: the court seemed about half as big as regulation (this place was tiny) and our opponents ran a brutal, suffocating full court press.

We were overmatched from the start. No contest. I was never a good basketball player, always the last guy off the bench. That day I saw plenty of action in the fourth quarter and was on the court when the final buzzer sounded with the scoreboard reading 70-10 in favor of the home team. One of their players, who I noted in later years to be one of those gentlemen who is so intense that he always appeared to be trying a little too hard to BE intense, clutched the ball in both hands, threw his head back, and screamed as though he had just won the NBA championship.

Later in the season, they came to our place. They were in our heads by now and the result wasn't much better, 50-16.

Eighth grade was different. Ben Wheeler had moved from Portsmouth to Rye and immediately became a game-changer, particularly on the defensive end. You know those blocked shots where the defender times his leap perfectly, gets his entire hand on the ball, and either spikes it or swats it about fifteen rows deep into the stands. Ben did that three times every game. He completely changed the way we matched up with opposing teams, especially those with talented young big men.

On the eighth grade trip to Hampton, we still lost. I don't remember the score, but I know it was at least closer than the sixty point difference of the previous season. We had Ben, more experience against that awful press, and weren't surprised by the size of the court.

Again, later in the season, they came to our gym. Our coach was running late and missed the first half, forcing one of the parents into action. Mr. Hodgeman, Billy's dad, took the reins and immediately put our offense into ball-control mode. We didn't rush, we didn't panic, we just sat and waited for a good shot. When it was there, we took it, then went back and tried to limit the number of good looks on their part. It worked: the halftime score was 8-8.

I can't remember the final score. I think we won, but even if we didn't, there was a valuable lesson in it. We got embarrassed, beaten up mentally and physically, and we refused to give in until we proved that we were better than the team that took the floor when we were seventh grade. Maybe that's the message that should be passed on regarding that 100-0 game, that if the losing team can come back next year and play even with their opponents for a half, or a quarter, or even a few minutes, that's just as good as a win.

An Interesting Fact

2009-01-22T22:36:00.005-05:00

I don't know how significant this is, but I find it interesting nonetheless: Barack Obama won the presidential election on November 4. My youngest sister's third child, Declan, was born almost four weeks later, on December 1, which makes him the first person in our family born in a country that had elected a black president.

Jordi got it right today when he called Obama's inauguration "the greatest American moment of the last 30 years." But I think he was approaching the issue with an eye toward our generation, those people under the age of 35 who before Tuesday didn't have a positive defining moment to point to in times of trouble and say, "See this day? This day is evidence of how great we once were, and can be again, if we just want it bad enough."

When I look at the election and the inauguration, however, I try to imagine how Declan and his sisters, Shakeira and Taliyah, will one day see it on a personal level, if they will appreciate what happened and the way it might have changed the course of their own lives. All three are biracial, and before November 4 and January 20, the idea of becoming president was just that - an idea. Now, it's a reality. They can literally dream of being anything they want, anything at all, even President of the United States, and know that hard evidence exists to back up those dreams.

Well, except for Shakeira and Taliyah. They're girls, see, and there's still never been a woman president...(which brings to mind an interesting question: if Hillary Clinton had won the Democratic nomination and the presidency, would I have written this same post about the girls and their suddenly limitless options?)

"I Do Solemnly Swear..."

2009-01-21T00:00:00.005-05:00

YouTube did a cool thing yesterday, partnering with C-Span to provide videos of many presidential inaugurations dating back to Franklin Delano Roosevelt's in 1933. Through that, I found another video, about ten minutes long, containing audio and/or video of every president since 1933 taking the constitutional oath. It's a short oath, just 39 words if you count the unofficial "so help me God" at the end, but I'm sure if you asked each of those men they would place it among the most remarkable moments of their lives, that thirty second or so period of time where they officially became the leader of the greatest nation on Earth. There is never so much hope for the future as that moment when a new president swears to "preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."

(My personal favorite is the first President Bush. He can't help but grin while repeating the "President of the United States" line at the 7:46 part. It was like watching a grown man realize that his childhood dream was coming true.)

President Obama is not included in the above video. His taking of the oath can be seen at the start of the video below and is followed by his inaugural address. Interestingly, despite Obama's typically stately manner, it comes off as the least polished of the lot thanks to Chief Justice Roberts, who apparently got his mords wixed.

The text of the speech can be found at UnionLeader.com. Some of my favorite portions are excerpted below.

"Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint."

"We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort - even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you."

"For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate."

"This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed - why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath."

"America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations."

I Probably Need To Pay Closer Attention To My Favorite Sports

2009-01-20T23:09:00.004-05:00

The Australian Open somehow got to the second or third day before I, a casual tennis fan, realized that it was underway. I am questioning my own fanhood.

Wimbledon was the scene of my birth as a fan, but the Australian might be my favorite event in the sport. Australia is quite literally on the other side of the world, sixteen hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time, which means that much of the coverage is perfectly timed for a night owl like me. Last year, the time difference resulted in an impromptu live-blog of the epic third-round match between Roger Federer and Janko Tipsarevic.

Will that happen again? Hard to say - on the one hand, one of things I enjoyed most about that post was its spontaneity. Planning for a live-blog is really no fun. Also, I have given up soda (and, by extension, caffeine) and tend to pass out on the couch before the clock gets too far past midnight. On the other hand, the baby is still sleeping through the night and I'm not working on Saturdays anymore, so I can sleep as long as I want on the weekends (well, as long as my wife wants me to sleep, anyway). Point being, you never know when I'll go crazy and try live-blogging a random Jankovic-Flipkens matchup.