Open mouth....

...insert foot. Perhaps.

This morning on my way to work I stopped at the drive through for a motivating jolt of java, mocha to be precise, and was greet by My Barista R with "How many more days till opening day?" Guess another java jockey told him about my countdown clock that sits beside my vitamins. Gives me something to be happy about each morning as the days tick away toward that happy day.

Then he asked, "So how do you think 'we'll' do this year?"

Third place, I said. Toronto's looking good, they're going to make a run for it.

"Yeah, right," R said and grabbed a sheet of paper. "I'm going to write this down and post it in here. We'll revisit it in 109 days and again in September."

It's That Time of Year

To casual fans, the time between the end of the World Series and the start of Spring Training (or maybe even Opening Day is they're casual enough) is a time of dormancy for baseball. Not so.

Trades, possible, probable or im, get underway before the champagne has dried on the locker room floor. It can be a heady time of year for baseball people, but one thing I've learned over the years is not to get too worked up about pending trades. Remember when A-Rod was coming to the Red Sox, or when Joe DiMaggio and Ted Williams were going to be exchanged one-for-one? People like to speculate about trades, imminent or imaginary, picturing glory or catastrophe for their team. The pundits have players moving hither and yon at breakneck pace, getting fans in a tizzy over things that never come to pass. I've learned to wait until a trade is finalized before I get too excited.

Most fans are interested in the major league moves, especially the Big Names, like where are Miguel Tejada and Manny Ramirez going to end up. As a minor a league fan, it's that part of the announcement that most people ignore that most interests me, that part tacked on at the end, "for 2 minor league players" or "for a player to be named later." When the Roberto Alomar-Alex Escobar trade was initially announced, it included the dreaded PTBNL and I immediately figured that meant Earl Snyder. It did.

When I heard through the baseball grapevine at work that the Red Sox were making a trade with the Marlins that involved Josh Beckett, Mike Lowell and some minor leaguers, my first thought wasn't about Boston adding to their rotation or getting a new third baseman. My first thought was that I hoped Anibal Sanchez, whom I've been touting as an up-and-comer, wasn't one of the minor leaguers thrown into the deal. He was, as was top shortstop prospect Hanley Ramirez, a fine player who hasn't met his promise yet and I'm not sure ever will.

With the Red Sox trading away their top minor league shortstop and releasing their regular shortstop, Edgar Renteria, it's apparently they're planning to acquire Miguel Tejada. Which would be great. Though if Steinbrenner can land Nomar Garciaparra to play first as rumor has happening, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't go after Miggy to play second so that George can have all four of the Big Guys from the Golden Age of the Shortstop playing infield for him at the same time. Hasn't happened yet, no point in getting worked up about.

Another move that caught my interest was the Marlins getting Mike Jacobs, another minor leaguer I've been rooting for. It's a move that should benefit Mike, and I may actually start paying attention to the Marlins, other than just how D-Train is doing.

Duke = Crash?
Earl Snyder has signed up for another season in the minors, with Cincinnati's AAA club, the Louisville Bats. First thing I did on hearing the news was check to see when the Bats would be making their only visit of the season to Syracuse, first week of April brrrrrr, then Scranton/Wilkes-Barre. If he hasn't gotten the call (he's listed on the Reds' depth chart at first base!) by July, it's up to Rochester to see him.

Fate Beckons?

Pretty incredible, the quirky calls that are going the White Sox' way. Luck is such an important part of baseball, (see Moneyball) and usually the luck is running against whatever team I'm rooting for. For too many seasons, it seemed the luck was flowing away from the Red Sox, and toward the Yankees. Yankee fans apparently thought it their due, only to be outraged when the tides turned, the sun stopped shining on that dog's ass, and things went the way of the Red Sox.

This year, it's the White Sox. After 88 years, why not? (Somebody's got to find some piano-related theme for the ChiSox. The Babe's piano's been done.)

The home plate umpire, it turns out, actually did make a "dropped catch" call, but not loud enough, apparently, for the Angels' catcher to hear, though A.J. Pierzynski heard. (Elsewhere A.J.'s been labeled a clubhouse cancer and other negative things, at least with other teams, but just look at that sweet face.)

The ball hit Jermaine Dye's bat, not Jermaine. Take the base, JD.

When the ball squibs away from a fielder or sails past the catcher straight for the screen, take that extra base, grab the free run. As I always say when one of My Guys gets hit by a pitch, we're not too proud to take it.

I'm hoping that the world stays on its current tilt and the luck continues to flow the White Sox' way.

Apologies to emily and Sparky
I come down hard on the Braves, all season long, though especially hard in the post-season. Part of the reason I can't embrace the Braves is because of the ownership, the megalo-behemoth Time-Warner/AOL. I miss Ted Turner. The same way I miss the Steinbrenner-Martin-Jackson-Munson soap opera. I miss the drama, the comedy, the personality that encompassed the team. Ted Turner gave Jim Bouton a second shot and how can you not like an owner who thumbs his nose at the establishment that way? We have no Bill Veeck these days, but there were flashes of Veeck-like sensibilities when Ted Turner owned the Braves. (The Idiot identity of the championship BoSox only served to further endear them to me.)

The other has to do with, well, the ownership of the Braves. The local cable company is Time Warner and one of the stations that comes with basic cable is TBS, which means Braves baseball all the time. Perhaps not to the extent that YES presents Yankees baseball ad nasuem (no wonder their fans think they've won more than they really have), but if I were a Braves fan, I'd have no trouble finding a game several times a week. Couple that with the Mets being on one or the other of two channels (or sometimes on both at the same time, occasionally one of the broadcasts in Spanish), sure to carry the Mets-Braves games, a lot of them since they are in the same division. What really pushes my button is that when ESPN has the Braves, usually playing the Mets, as the national broadcast, or at least the eastern "choice," both TBS and MSG/FoxNY also carry it. Some evenings, flipping through the channels, I pass a Braves-Mets game on 4(!) different channels. Familiarity breeding contempt, fostered by TimeWarner.

I hope emily and Sparky accept as a token my rooting for the Richmond Braves. When Richmond is in town, I actually do root forthem rather than just against the Sky(gak)Chiefs. The R-Braves will always hold a spot in my affections since it was while he was with them that My Guy Jason Tyner hit his first ever home run, pro or college.

Go Sox Go!

From the moment the season ended, my picks were the Chicago White Sox and the St. Louis Cardinals for the World Series. Happy to see both of them are advancing.

I've been accused of being disloyal to the Red Sox, but I don't see it that way. With all the pitching woes they had this year, it's surprising they tied for first place in the AL East, tied with the Yankees who had a poor pitching year as well. (Yankee fans like to think that their team won the East, but both teams had the same record, 95-67, [as did the Angels] with the Yankees being granted first place on the technicality that they won one more game against the Red Sox than vice versa. You could look at it from the other side, that the Red Sox won one more game over all other opponents than the Yanks.)

While I would have been very happy to see the BoSox repeat, they won the one we've all been waiting for. No other World Series win will ever mean as much as 2004.

So the Red Sox won last year, the Angels won their first ever in 2002, a happy occurrence (I was rooting for them all through that post-season), and the Yankees have just won too damn many Series. Time for someone else to have a chance. An attitude I know mystifies some people. As a gender, women tend to place much more importance on the issues of fairness and inclusion, the team over the score, which is not to say women are not competitive, just not as whacked about it as men too often are.

The Braves just can't quite ever quite make it quite to the finish, 14 straight division titles with only 4 pennants and 1 World Series win. But I can't feel sorry for Braves fans because, to me, the Braves are the National League version of the Yankees, shoved down our throats, at least here on the east coast, with a glaring lack of personality, corporate crews.

Houston is hard to get excited about, although I know Ron Briley would love to see them at the Dance some day and I'd like Ron to have that opportunity. But the Astros have Roger Clemens and I love seeing him thwarted. Yes, I blame the Rocket for the Red Sox' loss of Game 6, not Bill Buckner, because Rog displayed too much hubris by running down into the clubhouse to shave so he would look good on camera when he was interviewed, post-game, as the winning pitcher in the game that finally brought the Series crown back to Boston in 1986.

I'm not terribly familiar with the current White Sox, though I have seen some of them play with Charlotte, but the few I know I like, A.J., Timo Perez, and Jermaine Dye. My friend Statman would love to see his team win the Series, and I want that for him.

The fans of Chicago, both teams, have been denied a World Series win even longer than the Red Sox fans were, though without a doubt the BoSox fans have suffered the drought with more angst. Since the Curse was broken for the Red Sox in 2004, it would be fitting for the White Sox to finally win again in 2005, and should that happen, look for the Cubs to reach the pinnacle in 2014.

that jacket

In The Upside of Anger Kevin Costner plays a former baseball player turned radio personality. Throughout the movie he wears a green jacket, the same green jacket, I swear, that he wore in Bull Durham, the one he pulls a ball of out and tells not-yet-Nuke to throw at him, hit him in the chest.

Whoever was responsible for that detail, thumbs up.

End of the Season Blues

The end of the minor league season always gets to me, even in those years when I'm ready for baseball to end, to cease being a place I "have to" be. Inevitably I shed a melancholy tear or two on my journey home from the last game, though this year it got to me on my way there.

This final weekend was a fun one. A former B-Met was back in town, with the visiting New Britain Rock Cats, his first return since leaving the team at the end of last year. And in tribute to him, they played his theme music when he came up to bat, "Sponge Bob Squarepants" and the crowd sang along. Last year when Gil was in a slump, his girlfriend's son suggested Gil have them play Sponge Bob when he came to the plate to break the slump, and it worked. As long as he kept hitting, they kept playing it.

Out on the field, the B-Mets lost the first two games of the four game series, but they came back on Sunday to win, knocking New Britain out of play-off contention. On Monday, Labor Day, the wind was definitely knocked out of the Rock Cats, but all the B-Mets regular starters played, with the exception of catcher Zac Clements, but sitting for a day game following a night game is typical. Reliever Tim McNab started the game, perhaps auditioning for a starting role next season. The guys played a good game enough though it was the last game of a losing season, 63-79, 13 games back in the division, tied for last place in the league.

People kept saying "see you at hockey," since many of the box seat people also are regulars at the B-Sens' games, but P voiced what I feel, it's not the same. It's not just the game, the baseball, but the fun of being at the game with the gang that sits in our box.

When she arrived, M had tissues to hand out in case anyone get weepy about it being the last game. It got a little silly as we would say "this is the last whatever of the season" through a couple innings. M had also brought bubble gum for us. Not to chew but to retaliate. First base coach Dave Hollins has flung his chewed gum toward the ground right in front of our box all season, flinging it four or five times a game, most of the time hitting the dirt, but a couple times hitting people in the front row, even landing it in one guy's beer. And unlike other first base coaches we've had, like Ho Jo and Roger LaFrancois, he never acknowledged the fans, never showed any reaction to anything during the game, and did a poor job of coaching first. We were all pretty disgusted by his gum flinging habit and the idea of fling gum at him grew until we agreed to do it at the last game. It took a bit of stratagizing to decide exactly when we'd do it, because we didn't want to get thrown out the park. Since the B-Mets were leading and the Rock Cats didn't seem likely to tie things up, we decided it would have to be in the bottom of the eighth. The GM happened to swing by our box during the latter part of the game and we though the jig was up, especially since he came back during the top of the eighth. AS if that weren't enough, the promo guy Bill, wouldn't leave the field when the B-Mets came up to bat, and he had to pass through the gate at the bottom of our box, standing between us and Hollins. Finally, after the first batter, Bill out of the way, some hollered Hollins' name and bubble gum, still in its wrappers, rained down from our box in Hollins' direction. He glanced over in our direction and smile, the first reaction out of the guy in the entire season. The only problem, I told P, was that he might think that the gesture meant we liked him.

After the end of the last game of the season, the team discards all the BP balls, batting gloves, a few hats and shirts, a bat or two, or even a catcher's mask, by tossing them into the stands. I got one that David Bacani, the team's most inspirational player (voted by the team) and most popular player (voted by the fans) threw. At the start of the game as David walked by, G called out to him thanks for the great season and what fun it was to see him play, and David thanked G saying he enjoyed playing for these fans.

The park saw its highest attendance during its first year, a championship year, and not surprisingly, the second highest was the next year. This season, a losing season, comes in third in attendance. Although the team might not have been winning, B-Mets players success was highly celebrated in the media, David Wright last year and Mike Jacobs initial big splash in the majors, which has to be bringing people to the park. The endurance of the team/park has to be park of the equation as well. People are now used to the idea that there's a ball game to go to.

Now that the season's ended I can finally turn my attention to the Red Sox and the stretch run.

Added to my collection

I collect ballparks. This season I added only one, Fisher Cats Ballpark in Manchester, NH.

Minor league parks are usually situated beside a river or next to railroad tracks. This park is wedged in between the two, with Merrimack River running fragrantly behind the third base side seats, the train crossing beyond right field.

One of the prevailing comments, or complaints actually, about the major league parks that were built in the '70s was that they were too much alike, the "cookie cutter" parks, which has resulted in the newer parks being built with that trendy retro look. A great many minor league teams got new parks built because the requirements spelled out in the affiliation agreement between the majors and the minors, and unfortunately a lot of these parks have been built from the same blueprint. Manchester is one of them.

You climb stairs when you enter the park to reach the concourse, which is wide and open to the field so that you can, at least in theory, keep an eye on the game while getting your snack. The seats, except for the luxury boxes, run from the concourse down to the field. It's not a bad design on its own, but too many parks are now virtually identical and most have yet to develop a distinguishing character.

The quirk at this one is the outfield advertising. The walls have rotating signs built into them, that scroll up and down like window shades (the ground rules cover the possibility that a ball will get stuck in the rotating signs). The signs change with every batter. There is no constant scoreboard; the scoreboard is part of the ever-changing display on the videoboard in centerfield. A camera crew roams this park and let's everyone catch every second of every promo on the big screen.

The stadium in Syracuse has the same artificial turf and dimensions as Toronto to train the players and the nod to the big league club here is a hotel directly behind the left field wall.

The signature food is Boston: chowdah and pizza. The beer on tap gets high marks: Guiness and Bass Ale.

I asked for a seat in approximately the same location I sit in at my home park, but to my dismay this apparently is the birthday party and Little League team area. There were scores of young boys, noisy boys surrounding me, so by the end of the fourth inning, I had to move. Far, far away. To the opposite side of the park, the side from which I have trouble picking up the ball. But the smell of the river was less of a bother than the shrieks and foot stomping of all those young boys. The park has metal decking under the seats, so foot stomping is big here, just like in Lowell.

The Fisher Cats may be the Blue Jays AA team, but the audience in Manchester is a Red Sox crowd. More Red Sox branded clothing was worn than all other team branded clothing combined. The program had plenty of Red Sox related advertising. And in the souvenir store there was a couple items with the Fisher Cats' logo, lots of Red Sox items, a few different Portland Sea Dogs things, and one lonely rack of Blue Jays shirts.

The problem in Manchester is parking. The park is smack dab in the center of town and there is no dedicated parking. You have to park in local businesses' lots at $10.

Perhaps in time this park will develop a distinguishing personality, though it will probably be a split personality as long as the big club isn't the Red Sox.

Whatta Weekend!

Friday: Who Are These Guys?
This time of the season, I'm used to seeing a lot of new faces on the field as the team that has been here all summer is promoted, traded or released. No exception this year; I had to buy a program to find out who was who. Corey Ragsdale (6'4" but describes himself as a small guy) has been here since Chase was promoted for good to the Tides which makes him one of the old guys. New third baseman is Russ Triplett, (the team that used to play here was the Triplets) and he started his AA career nicely with two walks and a single in four plate appearances. Another newbie is Jonathan Slack OF. The B-Mets beat the Thunder 9-3.

Saturday: Laughing All the Way
Blues Brothers between innings, an outstanding performance by starter Evan MacLane, and an inside the park home run, first I've seen in person. Liviana, Grace and Mellow had a great time at the park, Grace kept telling me this was the most fun game she had ever been to. Corey Ragsdale SS hit a ball off the center field wall and the Trenton centerfielder was slow on getting to it so Rags just kept on running and running and running, came home standing up. It was incredible. The first inning looked like it was going to be a typical B-Mets fiasco, but MacLane was dominating for six straight innings, after giving up a run in the first. In the seventh it was clear he was tiring as all three outs were warning track flies when the ball hadn't been getting that far before. In the eighth he got two outs and gave up two runs and was unhappy he was lifted. No save situation for Lopez, though, B-Mets win 14-3.

Sunday: Rags Runs Some More
While the B-Mets played like we've been used to this season on Sunday, losing 15-6, there were bright spots as we assessed the team that will probably be here next year, at least until next August. With Chase ensconced at short in Norfolk, Rags will be our starting shortstop. He's made a few errors, but he's also made some outstanding plays at short and while his BA is low (he finally rose above the Mendoza Line this weekend) he's hit 6 homers in 49 games and Sunday got two stand up triples. This kid is only going to get better. Trippy will be our third baseman and his debut has certainly been promising, walks and doubles routine and probably a good glove at the hot corner. Second we don't know about. Brett Harper will probably be back at first doing his doorstop impression. Outfielder, Jonathan Slack, just up, possibly Bobby Malek who is in his second stint in Binghamton with a fair bat but a great arm, can nail runners at the plate from deep right field. Center is wide open as Lastings Milledge won't be back. Zach Clements finally got some rest with Rafael Arroyo making his first appearance behind the plate. Raffi is a small guy, as tall as Pudge Rodriguez but half his bulk, little for a catcher so I'm predicting him as my favorite B-Met of 2006.

Go Jake
In the middle of a pitching change the announcement came over the PA that former B-Met catcher Mike Jacobs in his first major league at bat hit a pinch hit three-run home run. Yayyyyyy!

I See Ballplayers

Time Warner Cable has one thing I definitely approve of: local minor league baseball.

On Thursday evenings when the Sky(gak)Chiefs are at home, the game is broadcast. Last night they were hosting Rochester (whom I didn't get to see play Sunday), so I got to see my first favorite B-Met Jason Tyner playing center. And surprise, surprise, Rochester's new shortstop is Gil Velasquez, shortstop and backup shortstop in Binghamton for the past three seasons.

~~~~
Movement

With Mike Piazza day-to-day with his hand fracture, Mike Jacobs got The Call. He'll be backup at catcher, but if he can show them he can hit while he's there, he might stick. Last week, when the game was tight in the late innings, Mike was on the dugout steps, cheering and clapping, leading his teammates and the fans in rooting for the B-Mets, a heartening sight.

David Bacani, utility man extraordinare, has been called up to Norfolk. David, who is listed generously as 5'7", plays second, third, short, and the outfield, though shortstop is his natural position, and when games have gotten totally blown out, he's pitched a few late innings with a terrific ERA.

Joe Hietpas was called up a couple weeks ago, and with Jacobs in NYC, the B-Mets have only one catcher. Wonder if relief pitcher Jeremy Hill is on standby as backup at catcher, his former position.

The Norfolk Tides have clinched their division, and looking over the roster, I'm not surprised. They're basically the team that played most of the season in Binghamton last year and were lights out.

Matty strikes again

I didn't get a game Sunday in Rochester, though I did geta logo-embossed baseball as the promotional giveaway as fans entered the gates, marked Red Wings on one sides, Twins on the opposite side, two sponsors' logos between them.

Matty has made off with it. I can't find it, but I can hear it clonking against the walls, the doors, the piano when he plays with it. As soon as he hears someone coming, he tucks it away somewhere in the dining room where we can't locate it.

Weather Wimps

After saying all those nice things about the Rochester Red Wings, I have to take a swipe at them today.

I drove all the way up there to catch a Sunday afternoon game, scheduled to start at 1:30. At 1:15 they covered the infield and announced that a cell was coming through, light rain, and they hoped to get the game started by 2:15 if not earlier.

It was drizzling, and it did rain lightly, returning to a faint drizzle, but at 2:15 they announced that because it was going to drizzle and rain lightly throughout the afternoon, the game was postponed to a doubleheader Monday night.

Maybe they won't start a game when the air is wet, or at least moist, maybe the Twins won't let the locals risk their players of the future, but it was barely drizzling. More like a misting. In Binghamton the week before, they played through rain, with thunder and lightning skirting just to the south. They've played during tornado warnings. Maybe the gate was too light.

I ended up poking around a bookstore just south of the city for a while, left town not much before the time the game would have ended had it started as scheduled, and it was still only lightly drizzling. Weather wimps.

My timing worked out well, as I pulled into Auburn just as the first pitch was being thrown by the Doubledays. Got to see a could great plays by the centerfielders and rightfielders of both teams. The pitching wasn't too shabby, but neither team was stellar in the infield. The best play of the game was by the Auburn manager. His team had been trailing 2-1 for some time and when a shot up the right field line made it 4-1 he came roaring out of the dugout to let the ump know the ball was on the foul side of the bag this far, holding his hands about 18" apart. He kept at it for a while, getting the crowd, and his team, going, getting tossed but not leaving the field. The other ump came in to cool things down and the manager had to show him how far outside the base he thought the ball went by retrieving the base from its spot on the field and carrying it to home plate, holding the base up and demonstrating it was this far outside. From my vantage point, aligned with first, the ball was clearly fair. It was good to get to a game, but watching short-season A ball reminds me exactly why I love AA.

Matty, the Baseball Cat

My cat Matty takes his being named for Christy Mathewson seriously. His favorite toy is a ballpark give-away, a small white rubber ball with red markings.

Baseballs are perched in odd spots throughout my house, on top of the upright piano, on top of china cupboard, on window sills and in bookcases, and any ball Matty can see is fair game as far as he's concerned.

There was a small Christmas ornament tucked behind stuff on the buffet, a snowman whose body was a clear plastic baseball. Matty found it, knocked off the snowman's head with its scarf and hat, and started batting the ball portion around.

The only television that has captured his attention is baseball. Movies or games, he'll watch the players moving around for long spells.

'Bout Time

Liviana can't miss the B-Mets schedule plastered to my office door when she stops by for coffee or lunch most days. Both Grace and I have periodically nudged her about bringing the girls to the ballpark, since spring training. Every time I mentioned it, Liviana said there was plenty of time, plenty of summer left. Not so any more. Must be the double whammy of both of us nudging her this week finally made an impact.

Once we were at the park and Liviana had had her first spiedi and Nine Man ale of the season, Grace lamenting that they had come to the park nearly every weekend the year before (she overestimates the number of times they came, but it's good to know she felt like it was a place to be regularly), she was asking when they could next return, pulling out the B-Mets schedule and picking our next outing.

Grace has been attentive from the first while Mellow has been more interested what to eat next while scoping out cute boys, which translates into virtually every male under 30. This time Mellow was paying attention to the game, asking occasional questions about what was happening on the field and why. When the B-Mets intentionally walked a batter, she noted the catcher standing behind the plate, and wondered by they were intentionally loading the bases. Setting up the doubleplay, I explained. But, she noted as the next batter hit came to the plate, they could give up a grand slam. Which they did. And she got to puzzle out the infield fly rule when that was called. Great game. And three of the four minor leaguers Tampa Bay would have gotten in the aborted Manny Ramirez trade were on the field today: Lastings Milledge, Yusmiro Petit and Anibel Sanchez.

Oooo, Major Leaguers!

Steve Trachsel is still in town on rehab and Kaz Matsui is here for three games as well. Kaz has a vocal following, especially among the younger set. Trachsel, who got knocked around in his previous rehab start, was dominating tonight, pitched all 7 innings. (Another doubleheader--Portland was rained out during the couple weeks of the season and is forced to make up some of those games on the road. When the B-Mets play in Portland later this month, it will be another set of back-to-back doubleheaders.)

In the first name, with runners on second and third, the Sea dogs' starting pitcher Lester let loose two consecutive wild pitches letting both runners score. Final score: 3-1.

The second game was the wild one. Portland scored three in the top of the second, the B-Mets answered with 4 in the bottom of the inning. Portland scored again in the top of the third, and though the B-Mets scored again, Portland led until the bottom of the seventh when the B-Mets tied it up.

In the eighth (extra innings as doubleheaders are 7-inning affairs in this league) with one out, our weak-hitting, slow-footed catcher Zach Clements singled, then when the pitcher overthrew the first baseman on a pick off attempt, advanced to third. At that point, Portland pulled the left fielder and put in a fifth infielder on the left side. Setting up the doubleplay, they intentionally walked right fielder Derran Watts on four pitches. After falling behind in the count on Wayne Lydon, they intentionally walked him to load the bases, setting up a force play at every base. Lastings Milledge, who had come into the game as a pinch runner the inning before worked the count the full. Pitch -low and away. Ball four. B-Mets win.

Two at a Time

The last place B-mets took on the first place Sea Dogs in a doubleheader, came out with a respectable spilt. B-Mets took the first game 2-1, but were shut out in the second, 7-0. They were completely baffled by Charlie Zink's knuckleball: 4 hits, 3 walks, and 5 strikeouts. That game was one of those can't lose games for me. I'm happy any time Binghamton wins, but I love knickleballers and have been waiting all season to see Zink pitch.

Rumor Central

With the trade deadline looming Sunday afternoon, we were very much aware that this might be our last chance to watch Lastings Millegde play, that he might be pulled from the field mid-game--it's happened before. My Source would periodically stop by during the game Friday night with the latest permutations. The one in place when I headed home favors Tampa Bay: Manny to the Mets, Dany Baez and Mike Cameron to Boston, Lastings Milledge, Yusmiro Petit, Anibel Sanchez and Kelly Shoppach to the Devil Rays. The players may not pan out, but Tampa Bay has been in the process of accruing promising minor leaguers,

YMMV: Chase & Pedro

A colleague-friend came by my office with some paperwork and got distracted by the two-page spread from the opening day newspaper with head shots, vitals and capsule descriptions of each of the players on the B-Mets' initial roster. He and another colleague-friend had recently been to their first B-mEts game of this season and there was this player that both of them thought was arrogant

I didn't have a clue who he might be referring to, since it was notable how diminished the arrogance had been this year.

He kept scanning the players. "A white guy," he said.

Mike Jacobs? I offered, thinking how Jacobs's arrogance quotient had drastically dropped from his earlier stint with the B-Mets.

"Not Jacobs," he said, "That guy, Lambin."

Chase? Arrogant? He's a sweetheart.

The two of them thought he thought too much of himself and thought he wasn't so great at the plate and not much of a fielder either.

Chase is a sweetheart, even if he does have to straighten his jersey after every pre-game wind sprint.

The major leaguer Chase most resembles is David Eckstein. Neither is blessed with an abundance of natural talent, but both play to the best of their abilities, pushing themselves to exceed expectations and have a good time doing it.

~~~~~~

Another colleague-friend is a big Mets fan. She held a Subway Series party for the first game of the 200 World Series, Mets fans in the comfy chairs in the living room, Yankees fans in the kitchen with the refreshments.

She loves Pedro. A lot of people were disparaging of Pedro when he was with the Red Sox. For a long time I was a fan of his, loved his great pitching (luckily I got to see him pitch 3 times at Fenway), his goofy presence in the dugout. After he got bumped from the top spot, had to share the limelight, Pedro lost some luster to Red Sox fans; I was less happy with him as his pitching declined and he became a sulking prima donna. (I was the Baseball Diva years before sportswriters dubbed Pedro the same.)

In New York with the Mets, the old, lovable Pedro is back and this friend loves having him on the team. She loves his superior pitching, his competitiveness, his playfulness in the dugout on days he's not pitching, and I'm enjoying her delight in Pedro nearly as much as I enjoyed Pedro when he was with the Sox.

Earl's a Pearl; another rare gem

Took a chance on Earl Snyder being in the line up Saturday when Durham came to Rochester for their single series in the Flower City and the gamble paid off. Since the Duke of Earl plays the majority of his teams' games each season it may not appear to be much of a risk, but somehow it seems he sits at least one of every three games when they're playing locally. Some of those times he coaches first so I get to see him, but not see him.

I got to see him Saturday, playing third, batting clean up. Good day at the plate for him, a first inning solo home run, a pair of singles, a couple RBIs and, incredibly, an intentional walk. Why incredibly, you say, thinking he's already jacked on. But he is among the league leaders in K! His strikeout to home run ratio is something like 4:1.


Foolish confession time.

I adore Earl Snyder.

He is my guilty pleasure. It doesn't make a lot of sense because he's the type of player I usually grant little attention or affection. He is a slow-footed slugger with waaaay too many strike outs and a correspondingly low OBP; small ball is not Earl's game. He's a first baseman, at least he was the first season I saw him play, and first basemen are not athletes, they're doorstops. He has also been hugely popular with fans, I usually prefer the overlooked, the dogged (David Wright notwithstanding.) Duke is also a great looking guy and "a nice young man," a phrase critics have used to damn him. Okay, the last two items aren't counts against him. It may be been timing as much as anything else that he became my favorite player; he appeared on the local diamond and within my sphere of consciousness exactly when I needed someone or something to anchor and buoy me.

I've followed him since his season in Binghamton where he was selected player of the year, through his time with Buffalo and his ten games with Cleveland, his years with Pawtucket were he was named the Red Sox organization's minor league player of the year in 2004 during which Earl had a quick cup of coffee, more of an espresso, making him a member of the World Champion Red Sox. I travel literally hundreds of miles to watch him play and love every minute of it. Although I keep hoping he gets another chance at the Show, I'm happy watching him as a veteran minor leaguer.

The most foolish part? I carry his Topps card in my purse everywhere I go. Though maybe that's not so foolish. If Bob Costas still has Mickey Mantle's card in his wallet, why shouldn't I keep Duke close at hand?

Other Gems

As someone said, every day you could see something at the ball game you've never seen before.

The Bulls had runners on first and second with no outs. The batter hit a grounder to third. The third baseman fielded it just behind the bag, stepped on third and fired to second, the second baseman pivoted and fired to first: a 5-4-3 triple play! A first for me, and a lot of the fans seated nearby. Triple plays are race enough, but usually the first out is a line drive caught. The Red Wings got a deserved standing ovation for the play.

The sign on the center field wall proclaims Rochester as "Baseball City". No argument here. The park itself is lovely, the staff friendly and helpful, the fans knowledgeable and engaged. The smattering of between inning promotions are minor diversions, not major entertainments as they often are in other parks. I've been to only a half-dozen AAA ballparks, but this is my favorite place to catch a game at this level of the minors.

Day-Night Doubleheader

Ya gotta make your own day-night doubleheader nowaday.

Went to Binghamton for the afternoon game, good to be back home at the park. Only two new players to learn. (This time of year, with promotions and demotions and trades and injuries, sometimes there's only once guy in the lineup I've ever seen before.) Corey Ragsdale SS and Lastings Milledge OF

Milledge has been ballyhooed as a great prospect, and with the exception of David Wright last year, most prospects fall well short of their hype, some of them hopelessly so. But if Sunday's game is any indication of Milledge's abilities, he could be some ballplayer. At the plate, he went 3-for-4 and scored 2 runs, in centerfield he made a couple WebGem plays. The word from the folks in Box 14 was that in his first game, he went 0-fer, striking out three times, but has been 4-for-5 and 3-for-4 in the next two games.

As for the game itself, starter Orlando Roman pitched well, and made two amazing pick offs, one at first and the other at second, the throw so quick the runner was out before we realized Roman was making a move. The game was not nearly as close as the 4-3 score would seem to indicate when he was relieved after seven strong innings, but Luz Portobanco gave up two runs in each of his two innings, B-Mets lose 7-4.


Back to Syracuse for the night game, a bunch of the folks from Box 14, their friends and families, taking in their one Norfolk game of the season. It was great to see the guys one more time and it was great to cheer for them, the visitors, in the midst of a large group of people rooting for them instead of being a lone voice. There had been more vocal support of the Tides throughout the entire series than there normally is for the visiting team, a few other B-Mets fans scattered throughout the stands and NY Mets fans as well, but the whole section cheering at once was fun.

Highlights at 11

As tonight's Sky(gak)Chiefs-Tides game was spectacular:

Two triples, one by each team.

A Baltimore chop, successful one.

A grand slam.

Tides (and recent B-Mets) second baseman Anderson Hernandez was covering first on a bunt attempt and the knocked skyward by the runner, landing splat like a piece of roadkill. Thought for a moment that he had been knocked unconscious, but they got him rolled over and sitting up, and back out into position. He kept checking his teeth and lower lip for a while.

The Chiefs were comfortably in the lead 13-4, but the balance of the game shifted in the later innings and the Tides got as close as 13-11, threatened in the eighth and ninth. Final score 14-11.

Watch Chase: Hat Trick

The Norfolk Tides (NYM-AAA) come to Syracuse once a season and I try to get to at least one of those games so I can see how last year's B-Mets are doing up a level. This year, the Tides' visit coincides with a B-Mets homestand, and since I haven't been to a B-Mets' game in a few weeks it presented a dilema. The weather reporters said rain in Binghamton, and Thursday's game in Syracuse had been postponed because of a power outage at or near the ballpark, which meant a doubleheader Friday. Syracuse, it is.

When they flashed Chase Lambin's stats on the scoreboard, I thought it would be nice if he could hit his first AAA homerun tonight. The first pitch he saw he put over the right field fence. Yay! His first AAA homer, and I got to see it. Next at bat, first pitch was a ball, second pitch over the right field fence. Yay! a multi-homer game for Chase. Third at bat, he fouled off the first pitch into the third base stands, second pitch, yup, over the right field fence. Yay!!!!! Three at bats, three home runs.

He didn't fare quite so well in the second 7-inning game, only 2-for-4 with a run and an RBI.

Home Run Derby

This year's home run derby was the first one I've looked forward to since 1999, with McGwire coming off his home run chase and the event being held in Fenway.

I was looking forward to it because one of the participants used to play in Binghamton. It was cool that Jason Bay was taking part. Too bad he didn't hit even one ball out.

BoBby Abreu was fantastic, but actually I was only half-listening to his first round while writing out bills, waiting for Jason Bay to get his chance.

Granted, Abreu hit more dingers in that competition than anyone else has, by a long shot, but the home run derby should not last longer than a typical game. Sheesh.

Mid-Season

Thank Mays so many people were unavailable when we did our online draft in my fantasy league this year. That, and attention to who's actually pitching, has to be responsible for the Huskytown Dukes being smack dab in the middle of the standings at the All-Star break, 7th in a 13-team league.

After the first week or two of the season, the Dukes have hung right there in the middle, never higher than 5th, but not falling into double-digit territory either, their best showing in 6 years. That might not seem terribly impressive, but you've got to remember that most, if not all, of the rest of the league participants are stats freaks who pore over the numbers for hours. This season I'm actually looking at a player's numbers for the previous week or month before playing or benching him, unlike the memorable season I left Nomar at short for three weeks while he was on the DL, only to bench him for another three weeks, only the first of which he didn't play in real life.

Speaking of Nomar, I still have him taking up space on my precious DL, limited to 3 players, and I'm wrestling with whether he's worth it. I've been hanging on to him as a potential keeper, but I've been toying with the idea of trying to trade him based on his potential keeper value. Would I get anybody worthwhile in return?

Wade Miller is a bust as far as I'm concerned and I'm going tell My Barista my next mocha latte is on him since I drafter Miller on his recommendation.

The catching tandem of Tek and Mirabelli has worked out better than I expected.

Manny had a slow first third. I let him go in a trade to get a saver, any saver, since I'm dead last in Saves. Naturally, he starts hitting once I let him go, but at least I hung on to Big Papi; the original proposed trade asked for Manny and Papi in return for Isringhausen and Sexson; first baseman I've got out the wahzoo.

If I don't do anything too stupid, and none of the key Dukes goes down with a season-ending injury, I should finish in the middle of the pack. Anything above 7th would be a major victory.

7 Pitches

The crowd was the biggest I've ever seen at P&C/Alliance Bank Stadium in Syracuse, somewhere around 9,000. (The park holds approximately 11,100 and has only been sold out once that I'm aware of, when Darryl Strawberry was in town on his fourth or fifth attempted comeback with the Yankees/Columbus.)

Scads of people were lined up behind the visitors' dugout before the game, obviously newbies because you physically can't reach the players there, too far removed. Any autographing goes on along the right field stands as the players come and go for pre-game warmups, and as a reliever Schilling wouldn't come out of the clubhouse until mid-game or later.

The PawSox got an immediate 3-0 lead in the first, the Sky(gak)Chiefs caught up, but Pawtucket starter Tim Kester regained form and held them at 3 runs. First baseman Roberto Petagine put the game permanently in the Sox' favor by hitting a grand slam in the fourth.

Schilling emerged from the dugout and crossed to the left center field bullpen between the sixth and seventh innings and fans were cheering so loudly the promotion Syracuse was trying to run was completely drowned out. Anton French, CF, walked part of the way with Curt, chatting away. Wonder what words were exchanged.

When reliever Mark Malaska came on in the bottom of the eighth, the poor guy was booed. Just for not being Curt Schilling. Malaska threw a scoreless inning and with a handshake from the manager was done for the night.

When Schilling finally emerged from the bullpen, he got a standing ovation. A few Yankee fans sitting near me were booing; the Boston fan behind me noted, "Like that's gonna bother him."

Schilling threw more pitches warming from the mound than he did in regulation play. He struck out Kevin Barker on three straight pitches, then threw a ball to John-Ford Griffin who fouled the next one off, then grounded to Petagine at first, and Julius Matos flied out to right on the first pitch.

Seven pitches. Nearly three hours of game preceded them, and a twenty-five minute wait in the parking lot before joining the traffic jam followed. But they were worth it.

I was sitting only a couple rows up from where I usually sit in this park, in row 6 Saturday night. Right behind the visitors' dugout, directly in line with the pitcher's mound, I had the perfect view. And as the team exited the field, filing into the dugout, I stood within 20 feet of a pitching great.

Ya gotta love the minors.

Schilling here?

The buzz in the Syracuse media is that Curt Schilling may pitch in Saturday's game against the Sky(gak)Chiefs. It would be his turn in the rotation if he's starting, but from Francona's comments it seems more likely that Schilling will be working from the bullpen.

I had already planned weeks ago to go to this game as I have to be in Syracuse that day anyway, the B-Mets are on the road, and the PawSox are a team I usually take the time to see.

It would be too cool if Schilling is on the mound.

Chase Watch

Chase is gone again, called up to Norfolk once more, on the last day of June.

In 7 games at AAA, Chase is hitting .391, with an OPS of .879.

Not bad for a utility guy.

Weekend Update

Subtitle this "The Victor Hall Show"

Friday night the B-Mets were comfortably leading 8-4 going into the ninth against the visiting Erie Seawolves (or "Seawolfs" on the small scoreboard), but the bullpen went into meltdown, coughed up 4 runs to make it 8-8. Erie's reliever gave up three single, broken up by a strike out by Mike Jacobs, then Victor Hall, who has been skimming along the Mendoza line, drove in the game-winning run.

Saturday, let's just forget Saturday, an ugly 13-7 loss.

Sunday the B-Mets were being shut out 3-0. Mike Jacobs led off the bottom of the ninth with a single. Chase Lambin moved him along with a double. Sparkplug David Bacani drove in Jacobs with a single, breaking up the shut out. The unlikely Victor Hall homered, clearing the bases, giving the B-Mets a 4-3 win.

Chase Watch

The B-Mets have been on the road and I've been away on a business trip, so I haven't been paying attention. With the boys back in town, I remembered to check Chase Lambin's stats.

But he wasn't to be found on the B-Mets website!

Could it be?

Yes! There he is, on the Norfolk Tides' roster, called up on June 17.

But this is the minors, so when I got to the park tonight, Chase was in the lineup, batting sixth.

People come and go so quickly here.

Cooperstown Symposium

Gathering of the Faithful (some of them Fenway Faithful, of course) in Cooperstown for the annual symposium on Baseball and American Culture this past week, was great as always.

In a way it's a like a homecoming, returning to a place where memories reside, even if you've never physically been here before. And as this is my sixth consective symposium, it's a chance to see old friends, catch up on their views of baseball and the (academic) world. This year had the largest attendance since I started going and many of these attendees were here for the first time, bringing new life and new perspectives to the event.

There are certain presenters one can expect to see talking about certain topics, like Roberta Newman on marketing, advertising and/or the Dodgers, Bill Simons on the effect of ethnicity on our views of the game, or David Ogden on the dearth of African American youth involved in baseball.

The first words out of most attendees mouths are "Are you presenting?" and if a positive response if given "What are you talking about? When and where?" We scramble through the agenda upon arrival, searching for familiar names and interesting topic titles, mapping out the next three days' activities, bemoaning the fact that concurrent sessions guarantee you'll miss a couple of great talks. (A recurrent complaint is that attendees are given only the titles of presentations which may or may not give a clue as to the true topic which would help in selecting which to attend.)

Jonathan Eig, the key note speaker, delivered an engaging synposis of his quest to write the true story of Lou Gehrig, a task that had its roots in a grade school assignment. While giving highlights of the Iron Horse's life, he provided insight on his research process including visits with people who knew Gehrig and his quest for Gerhig's personal letters.

A couple highlights from this year's symposium included:

*Mike Brady's account of a course he team teaches as a road trip, taking a busload of folks on a ten-day trip to visit ballparks, major and minor, and meet with baseball people, (Hank Aaron had to cancel on them at the last minute.) It sounds like the trip of a lifetime.

*Joseph Stanton reading several of his poems about the team from his book Cardinal Points: Poems on St. Louis Cardinals Baseball , a delightful evening that he capped off with a poem about Bob Gibson ("don't lean too close to this poem").

*The jersey Babe Ruth was wearing when he called his shot in the 1932 World Series was displayed and the story of its authentication was detailed by the gentlemen from Grey Flannel Auction.

*George Gmelch, former minor leaguer, talked about the changing world of professional baseball, comparing his days as a Tigers' farm hand with today's life in the pros. George, an anthropologist, wrote about exploring the new world of baseball in Inside Pitch




*Jean Hastings Ardell, a can't miss presenter, talked about the effect of Title IX on girls' and womens' involvement in the game, which she also addresses in her marvelous book Breaking in Baseball: Women and the National Pastime. I'm looking forward to picking up the conversation at the SABR convention in Toronto in August.





For the first time I was a true spectator at the town ball game. In the past I've played, or stood on the sidelines, far from the action, too involved in discussions to watch the game. This year I found a happy medium, enjoying conversation and follow the game. The tasty picnic was wrapped up, per usual, by the Mighty Casey, a treat no matter how many times Tim delivers.

This respresents only the tip of the symposium iceberg, three days of baseball- related conversation and fun; I can't wait for next year, to get back together at the HOF to listen to and talk with other presenters and particpants, with everybody else who has a story to share, which every one of the people at the event has.

Chase Watch

Chase Lambin is leading his team in slugging (.661), batting average (.339), homers (8), doubles (11), 2nd in OBP (.392) and total bases (72).

The guy with more bases has 82 more plate appearance than Chase. Playing with numbers, that means Chase gets .605 bases per plate appearance, the other guy get .462.


Guess which one is considered a utility player and which one is the potion player.

Red Sox in Cooperstown

The Red Sox and Tigers played at Doubleday Field in Cooperstown. Tigers won, but nobody really cared. Didn't matter. All that mattered was the Red Sox were in Cooperstown.

The day was cool, but the sun came out a couple times making my turtleneck sweater not only unnecessary but down right uncomfortable.

My dad and I got into town by 10. I've been to Cooperstown on other HOF game days and for induction day, but I have never seen the parking stretching out so far from the center of town so early. I've also never seen so many Red Sox fans in one place outside of Fenway Park. Nearly everyone was wearing something branded Red Sox. It was a big crowd, a big day for local merchants. Every store had anything and everything Red Sox prominently displayed in windows or on tables on the sidewalk. I grabbed a Fisk felt banner for $5; it was $25 the year he was inducted (was here for that).

The parade was short and lovely as usual, but there was a long delay as the guest marching band performed a bunch of numbers at the reviewing stand, which was maddening because we could see the trolleys bearing the teams sitting before the HOF, not moving. The car carrying Johnny Pesky and Dom DiMaggio was rushed by fans while the parade was at a standstill, certainly exciting some of the security people. When things finally got rolling again, the crowd went wild, Main Street sounding like Fenway during a rally. Johnny Damon pushed the crowd by leaning out the trolley window, waving and hollering to the fans.

People filled the park early; frequently the pre-game home run derby is attended by a significantly smaller number than the game itself, but most seats were filled, and stayed that way through most of the game even though with one exception all of the starters were long gone before the 7th inning. Nobody cared. The Red Sox were playing in Cooperstown.

Johnny Damon lead off, per usual, and made fans happy through most of the rest of the day, bantering with the center field bleacher crowd, tossing a ball back and forth with them to warm up for the second inning because the high schoolers who work the game were warming the other two outfielders. Later he coached third base making a total mockery of giving the signs, which earned him plenty of laughs. My dad said he had sort of like Damon before, but he is a real fan of Johnny's now, having seen him and how he interacts with the fans in person. He used to refer to Damon as "that guy with the hair," now he's "Johnny Damon, that fun guy."

We were both a bit disappointed that Trot Nixon didn't make an appearance. We both love Trot, he's our kind of player. Kevin Millar wasn't dressed and on the field, and Captain, My Captain Jason Varitek never got an at bat though he presented the World Series ring pre-game to the HOF, but otherwise it was a perfect day watching the Red Sox play in Cooperstown.

Dale Sveum added to the fun by getting a single when the rest of the Sox were cold at the plate. A pinch runner was put in for him, but he played first for a couple of innings as well. Atlanta bullpen coach Bobby Dews starting last year's game behind the plate, going a full inning, is a tough act to follow, but Sveum added to the fun of the day.

I don't follow the Tigers, but I was happy to see Pudge II Rodriguez at least get one at bat as the DH. A few other names were familiar, Inge, Pena.

Most of the Red Sox regulars left the game by the third or fourth inning, after each got an at bat, but the starting pitcher, Anibel Sanchez who is with Wilmington this season, had a good start, a long start, pitched most of the game facing all levels of batters, major leaguers to other A-level players. A couple other prospects we got to see included Hanley Ramirez, Shawn Wooten, Michael Lockwood, Jim Buckley, Bryan Pritz, and Christian Lara. The Sox player who made the biggest impact was Willy Mota. He took over centerfield for Damon and within an inning he had the fans out there cheering for him, the rest of the fans an inning or two later with some great catches and throws, and a timely 2-run homer. The whole place was chanting "Mota! Mota! Mota!" when he came to the plate. It was wild, and I hope Willy remembers this day.

My dad, who has a hard time sitting that long, lasted through four innings. When he accompanies me to my home park (for just one game a season), he won't stay in his seat for more than an inning at a time, gets up to stretch and investigate all the time. I've told him that's fine, just make sure you're back to the box where I sit for the ninth. At one point during today's game, he leaned over to tell me, "If you get tickets for next year, I'll come with you."

I'm going! I'm going!

Late last week I got an email saying tickets for the Hall of Fame game in Cooperstown were available to members of Red Sox Nation. An order didn't guarantee you'd get them, but I took a shot.

When I got home from work tonight, there was a box on my kitchen table. I wondered what it was because I didn't think I had any outstanding book orders. I got closer and saw the return address said "Boston", then saw "4 Yawkey Way".

Yee-haw! tickets to see the Red Sox in Cooperstown! And a couple Red Sox Nation Road Trip teeshirts.

I'm going to see the Red Sox. In Cooperstown!

Old School

Is it possible or do my eyes deceive me? Is that a bit of white showing between the top of the lead-off batter's shoe and stirrup?

Yup, it is. Next batter too, third batter as well.

And as the Toledo Mud Hens take the field in the bottom of the first, I see that the entire team has at least a slice of white sani showing beneath their dark stirrups.

Last season I told David Wright that some of us fans really liked the "high socks" look, with the pant leg ending just below the knee instead of pulled over the shoe tops like pajamas. Next homestand, all of the team was wearing "high socks." Old School.

And now the Mud Hens are taking it a step further. I love it.

A Good Evening at the Park

Ebeth and Jennie are two of my favorite people to be at a ballgame with, so when Ebeth called and said they were going to Wednesday's game, I said count me in.

It was a beautiful evening to be at the park, golden sunshine through most of the game as the sun slowly set over the left field stands, warm so a jacket wasn't necessary until the last few innings.

We sat right behind home plate, location courtesy of Ebeth's new buddy, one of the umps. It's a strange place to sit, the sound of the PA is totally distorted and you can't hear the chatter on the field the way you do sitting along the base paths.

I had to laugh when a wild pitch was let loose, as the pitchers charting the pitches right in front of us all flinched as much as anyone else. Yo, guys, there's a screen there! And you should be used to seeing a hardball flying right at you. Especially the way some of you pitch.

Ebeth and Jennie always complain about how subdued the Binghamton fans are, but when their dads started cheering and hollering, they could have died of embarassment. I guess it's okay if other people's parents act up, just not yours.

Ebeth and Jennie didn't bring their usual signs with them, so that seemed a little strange. When I first met them, they were toting banners to "motivate" an opposing player. They expanded that to include other players on their player's team. Finally they started making ones for the home team. Too bad they didn't have the banners, because where we were sitting would have been great to display them while the guys were on defense.

Mixing it up

Diamond Stats
A local jeweler is running an ad campaign about people buying diamonds online based solely on the stats provided. One cannot truly appreciate a diamond's beauty without seeing it. I've maintained that for years about baseball. You can throw all the stats you want at me, but until I've seen a man play, in person, I cannot appreciate just how fine he is. I know Pedro Martinez is outstanding, not just because of the flashy numbers he's posted, but because I've seen him pitch, striking out 10. I've seen Vlad Guerrero and been wowed by him in a way that mere numbers could never do. Let Billy Beane and Theo Epstein live in a paper world. As the jeweler's ad says, you're not buying her a piece of paper, you're buying her a diamond.

Catcher at First
Mike Jacobs continues to amuse me, chattering from first to the pitchers as if he were their receiver. Mike thinks he's still in charge of the game, which might not be such a bad thing. He's looking like the team leader at this point, hope he keeps it up.

Sucks to be Zac
Joe Hietpas is the Mets catcher of the future, a role Mike Jacobs once held until injury repositioned him at first. Zac Clements was brought to Binghamton to be Joe's backup, knew he wouldn't be getting many starts. So when Joe Hietpas is playing first, getting a break from catching, and Mike Jacobs, first baseman-in-training, is behind the plate, it's got to be disappointing for Zac to be benched, let alone when his grandmother is visiting.

How Many Ways Can the B-Mets Let the Opponent Score?
Matt Lindstrom was wild in his Sunday start, throwing way too many pitches through the first three innings, giving up 5 runs. His teammates almost got the game back, 5-3, but then came the fourth inning. Lindstrom walked a couple, was pulled for Jose Rodriguez who proceeded to walk the next three batters, walking in two runs. He also hit a batter. When an Erie batter finally connected, the ball rolled up and over the second baseman, letting in two runs. Almost felt sorry for the Sea Wolf who lost his chance for a grand slam. Nine batters got on board before an out, a strikeout, was recorded. After a certain point, you know longer get disgusted, but rather amused and intrigued: how else can the B-Mets give up a run?

Clemente!
My friend Liviana, Mellow and Grace's mom, grew up in a family of Pittsburgh Pirate fans. She had mentioned going to Three Rivers Stadium with her father a couple times, and had mentioned at different times that she had seen Roberto Clemente play, had seen him play his final game. When I showed her a children's book I had picked up (I get them for friends' children and for my collection), it was as if a spigot had been opened full-blast.




She talked about going to the ballpark with her father and her uncles, about being at the park singing along with "We Are Family" telling me I couldn't understand just how powerful that had felt (I've been at Fenway for "Dirty Water" and "Sweet Caroline" so I have an inkling), about knowing even then that seeing Clemente play was seeing ssomething truly special, even historic. She hugged the book, petted the illustrations as she talked, her eyes bright, a smile plastered across her face, and tried to convey to another Clemente fan, one too young to have seen him play live, what a thrill it had been for her, getting close to tears. This is what baseball is all about, connections across time, with the past, ours and the game's, and being able to tap into the well of rememberance and emotion interwoven with our experiences of the game.

Mike Jacobs

I was all set to dislike Mike Jacobs when I saw his name on the B-Mets roster once again.

He was here before, pushing out the catcher I was rooting for that season, so I didn't cotton to him. And I overheard him make some arrogant remarks that struck me the wrong way.

Now he's back, starting again, as a first baseman, which means I'm in close proximity to him, and I wasn't going to be happy about it.

In the first place, I don't have much respect for first basemen. Everyone knows this is where poor fielders are hidden, at first or in right field, and many of them look like doorstops, barely moving when a ball comes near them, hit or thrown.

But....

Mike Jacobs used to be a catcher, and I have more respect for catchers than I do for any other postion, maybe more than for all other positions rolled together. And Mike Jacobs is still, in some ways, a catcher.

When a hitter tries to check his bat, Mike Jacobs is calling for the first base umpire to confirm the swing, yelling "Check!" as loud as, and more quickly, than the man squatting behind the plate.

He has movement around first that most doorstops, er, first basmen don't. Or at least that they don't display. A quality defensive first baseman is a delight to watch, a luxury one rarely gets to indulge in.

He also takes time to meet and greet the fans at the fence railing before the game with a friendliness not apparent the last time he was here.

Then there was the afternoon he helped that day's young fan in the pre-game "Mascot Race". The 4-year-old seemed shy, tucked in to himself, head down, slowly walking toward first base while the mascot ran toward third in reverse direction (ideally they cross paths at second). Chatting with fans near the dugout, Mike Jacobs watched the youngster's difficulty for just a moment before moving away from the fans, toward the first base line, calling the boy's name, waving him toward first base. The little boy trudged along, peeking from under his cap's bill. Mike moved closer, crouched down behind first base as if it were the plate and continued to encourage the boy. When he finally got close enough, Mike reached out to touch his arm, then put his arms about him, picked him up, chatting away, a smile on Mike's face all the while. Winning some sort of answer from the boy, Mike carried him into the home team dugout where they sat for several minutes.

Mike Jacobs understands what baseball is really about.

Break Up the Sea Dogs!

The Portland Sea Dogs (Boston's AA team) got off to a fantastic start, going 10-0.

While I am a Red Sox fan, and while I was rooting for the Sea Dogs to extend their string, I am happy to report that it was the B-Mets who finally stopped them in a 3-1 game.

One of those 3 was another Chase Lambin homer. That's three in three games for him.

The Boys are Back in Town

This year's B-Mets roster has several familiar faces.

Brian Bannister, Ken Chenard, and Tim Lavigne all pitched for the B-Mets last year with varying success. Ken's little boy likes to warm up with the team, and some of the guys look like they're having a great time with him, especially Chase Lambin.

Joe Hietpas and Zac Clements both caught for the B-Mets last year. Joe is respected as a receiver, but he looks lost at the plate. Surprisingly, in one game over the weekend, he singled, then stole second. We think the opposition was totally stunned that he would even attempt it.

Mike Jacobs, David Bacani, Aarom Baldiris, and Chase Lambin are back in the infield. At one time, Jacobs was the heir apparent to Mike Piazza, but he is back in Binghamton to learn to play first base following a season lost to injury. Bacani is a crowd favorite, a sparkplug, but we are surprised he is not at AAA. Chase is listed on the roster as the utility player. He played a flawless third base his first game, but the next game he was back in his usual spot, at second, and uncharacteristically committed an error, tossing an routine doubleplay ball over Bacani's head into left field (Bacani is listed as 5'8", a generous stat, so he is a low target). The next doubleplay ball Chase displayed a little uncertainty by running to tag second himself before throwing to first.

Jeff Duncan, Wayne Lydon, Bobby Malek, and Prentice Redman are the returnees in the outfield. Jeff and Prentice have played with the NY Mets; we were all surprised to see them back at this level. Theirs is one of those cases in which you love the chance to watch him play, but you wish he, for his sake, was playing elsewhere. Wayne, if he sticks for the season, might make another go at the stolen base record; a late-season groin injury stopped him 2 bases shy of it. Malek came up to Binghamton late last season, right when they were dismantling the excellent team anchored by David Wright and Angel Pagan.

We were somewhat spoiled in 2004 by the team that played in Binghamton, until the majority were called up either to Norfolk or New York, but what this year's team has already shown us foretells an entertaining season.

Opening Day, Take 3

The budget is smaller, the town in smaller, but Binghamton (AA) treats Opening Day as the Special Occasion it is.

There was bunting around the park, and a beautiful, respectful rendition of the National Anthem. The ceremonial first pitch was thrown out by the club's director of stadium operations who had just returned from more than a year's tour of duty in Iraq as an MP. (He threw out the pitch in his desert camo uniform, but later in the game he was inside the giant plastic mouse ball, rolling across right field in a computer-related promo activity.)

The former GM, now special advisor to the president (in other words, the man in charge of fun), started things off, wishing the crowd "Happy Opening Day," and inviting us to turn to the person next to us and wish that person the same, "Like we're passing the peace in church" the person beside me noted.

Some of last year's players are back, as are most of the front office people, the ushers, and the vendors, not to mention the usuals in the stands. Some of the old promotions are back, like the musical toilets game and the pasta pitch, familiar sound effects, but new theme music for older players, and the railyard and skyline beyond the outfield fence are the same.

It's good to be home.

Props for Mr. French Again

Anton French was named K-Man of the day Sunday (Syracuse @ Rochester) and he responded in style bu hitting a home run in his first at bat. He came through for the crowd later, though, by striking out and earning all game-ticket holders a free taco at Taco Bell.

With the Skychiefs ahead 4-1, John-Ford Griffin turned playing leftfield into an adventure. He was well short of making three catches, letting three Red Wings runs in, tying the score. John-Ford redeemed himself a couple innings later with a grand slam.

Opening Day, Take 2

This is how Opening Day should be.

Sunshine (okay, the Simones have no control over the weather, but still...), a sellout crowd (5th largest in stadium history), bunting wrapping the park, a brass band, a choral group to sing the national anthem, fireworks and a balloon launch during the anthem, a recently wounded war vet throwing out the first pitch (not a bunch of politicians), marines in their dress uniforms looking like walking bunting scattered throughout the crowd.

Rochester does Opening Day the right way. And the fans respond to it.

I made the mistake of not purchasing my ticket beforehand and got SRO which mean sitting on one of the berms (too tough with my arthritic knees) or in the bleachers (see knees). I did find a seat way up top in the right field grandstand and quickly discovered why those seats were empty during a sellout. Under the roof, in the shade, it was cold and windy.

Not just the front office did Rochester proud. The team came through, too, winning 2 to 1.

Game Log CatcherKen Huckaby is a human Mack truck; we all remember him dislocating Derek Jeter's shoulder last Opening Day with his aggressive defense of third base. During the first game in Rochester, going after an infield pop-up he literally bowled over third baseman Jason Alfaro. Ken came running from behind the plate, Jason from third, Ken held his mitt up, ran over Jason who tumbled like an acrobat.

Game Log: Props to Anton French

In his first at bat of the 2005 season, Anton French OF scorched a triple down the right field line in a game the Sky(gak)Chiefs ultimately lost 9-7 after a ninth-inning 40-minute rain delay.

In the home team's first at bat of Game 2 of the season, Anton beat out a bunt for a single and came in with the game's first run in the first inning. The Red Wings took the lead in the fifth 3-2, tacked on an insurance run when Garrett Jones responded to derisive chants of "Gaaarrr-ettte, Gaaarrr-ettte!" from the Syracuse fans by hitting a solo shot over the right field fence. It looked like things were settled, the Sky(gak)Chiefs would lose the first two games of the season, disappointing their fans (sadly, not an uncommon event), but the bottom of the order and the top put together a couple hits and tied it up.

It stayed tied despite both teams getting men on base in nearly every inning that followed. The ballpark had been at best at 10% capacity and fans dribbled out as the dinner hour approached and the innings piled up. As the 12th came to an unresolved end, my uncle and I agreed we would stay for just one more before he needed to return home (he was on call that evening in the senior housing where he lives). The Sky(gak)Chiefs again got men on in the bottom of the 13th and it looked like they were likely to be lame ducks just like all those preceding them. But with two out and two on, and a strike, maybe two on him, Anton French powered a shot over the right field fence, same place Gaarrr-ettte had parked his. The shamefully small number of fans still on hand were mighty pleased not only to have their team split the opening series, but do it in such exciting fashion.
Reasons to Love Minor League Baseball: In the minors, the parks are small, the seats are close, you can hear not only the umps clearly, but the players as well, and all those marvelous sounds of the game, wood and leather and pounding feet. You also, when the "crowds" are small can hear the fans. Red Wings catcher Rob Bowen was at the plate and from behind their dugout a Red Wings fan in from Rochester (whose voice I recognize even though we're both out-of-towners because he's vocal when he follows his team here) encouraged him, "Come on, Rob, get a hit," and from the opposite side of the park, as Syracuse fan called out, "Rob, never mind. Don't do that." Red Wings fan, "Just a little hit, Rob, just a little hit now," and Sky(gak)Chiefs fan, "No, Rob, strike out."

Notes: Aaron Hill seemed to be having some trouble with the artificial turf, bobbling a couple balls, making a couple errors, but from what I've seen of him, the learning curve probably won't be steep. My uncle is concerned that Aaron is too good and will not last the season, or even the major part of it, in Syracuse. Russ Adams, who was called up from Syracuse late last season, is playing shortstop in Toronto, so I think Aaron will be given as much time as he needs.

Jason Tyner no longer resembles a toothpick. His uniform has always looked like it is dangling on a wire hanger out in centerfield. The man finally has some meat on his bones, and he finally looks like a man, no longer a boy, (he will be 28 in a couple weeks) evident not just in the filled-out frame, but in the changed angles of his face. My uncle thinks Jason Tyner has one of the strangest stances at the plate he's ever seen. Funny thing is, he takes the same stance at the ready in center; he looks like a croquet wicket.

Opening Day, Take 1

"Programs! Get your programs here! You're Next!"

Hearing Durkin, perched at the top of the entry stairs, smack dab in the middle of the concourse, calling out the greeting is THE sign that Spring and the Season have truly arrived. I've heard Durkin singing out that phrase for nearly 30 years, and it's always a welcome sound.

Living in the middle of Central New York, I have the possibility of attending as many as 6 different Opening Days as day trips, 7 if you want to stretch it to Buffalo. Schedule permitting, (the teams' not mine) usually I make it to two, Syracuse and Binghamton. Last year they were the same day with one ending as the other was getting underway so I made it only to the B-Mets (they are, after all My Guys), but this year the home openers are a week apart.

It rained. Starting in the third inning, pouring during the eighth, and when they pulled the tarps at the top of the ninth, the score Rochester 9-Syracuse 6, I decided I was soaked enough and headed home.

Despite the weather, it was a great Opening Day. Not only did I get to see this year's Player to Watch (a potential My Guy), shortstop Aaron Hill, I discovered my first favorite B-Met is playing for Rochester! Being a bit ditzy, I forgot the dugouts are reversed in Syracuse, home team on the left, and was watching for Number 5, Aaron Hill to come out, noting that Number 11 had looked familiar though I didn't recognize the name on the roster. When Number 5 emerged from the first base dugout the player definitely wasn't Hill. The person I was talking with pointed out they were wearing away uniforms. Number 11 for Rochester is centerfielder Jason Tyner. Made my whole day right then.

Syracuse got off to a great start, putting down the Red Wings 1-2-3 in the top of the first and the leadoff Sky(gak)chief Anton French hitting a triple. They sailed along beautifully for three innings. Then the Red Wings decided to play.

I have a love-hate relationship with the Sky(gak)chiefs and root with a strong sense of schadenfreude. Most games I attend to watch a player on the visiting team and cheer him and his teammates, usually to vistory. The final score was 9-7 so they got that ninth inning in, and I was lucky enough to catch the tape-delay on cable. I got to see Jason Tyner get his second hit of the day (2 for 5 in the leadoff spot) and see him catch a routine fly ball to center for the final out.

Heading back for Game 2 today.

My Kind of Food Show

Saturday I went to my monthly writers' meeting and got together with friends for coffee and conversation, stopping at my aunt and uncle's which my father knows is my routine so he called me there to tell me not to bother to try driving home as roads were flooded in my home county. Which is how I came to be flipping through the channels on a Saturday night, passing shows I normally never see. I make instanteous decisions, analysizing the image on the screen in a split second before moving on, but an image of Cooperstown stopped me short.

Cooperstown, on the Food Network no less, $40 a Day. I had missed part of the show as the host, Rachael Ray, was tallying her breakfast bill (where? where?) at $9.09. There were familiar shots of Main Street, all of the shops recognizable to me, frequent visitor, and I realized the show was at least a year old as The Shortstop Restaurant was shown in its former Main Street location; it can now be found in the cellar level of Pioneer Street, directly across from the Tunnicliff Inn, beneath Mickey''s Place. She made the requiste whirlwind tour of the Hall of Fame, making a point of visiting Pudge's plaque, earning me as a fan by lingering on Fisk's engraved contentance. She went to Ommegang Brewery (I have tried their wares only to discover I don't care for Belgain ale), grabbed the makings for a ploughman's lunch at Danny's Main Street Deli which serves huge, fresh sandwiches, and ate on the shore of Lake Otesaga (Glimmerglass in Cooper's world). Afterward she left town via I-88 to Brooks Barbeque, just a short distance away in her words, though getting to I-88 is a 20-25 minute ride from Cooperstown. She rounded off the visit by riding out a rain delay at the Cooperstown Dream Park, a wonderful facility where kids from across the country come every summer to play week-long tournaments; I've visited when a friend was umpiring there and it's a great chance to watch amateur baseball.

As if a feast through, and around, Cooperstown wasn't enough, the teaser showed the next episode --to follow immediately-- involved more baseball.

The Triangle: Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hil, NC. As if I hadn't already enough of a yen to visit the place, she showed some great eating (I have to ask my friend JJ about her recommendations), some interesting shopping, including a local bookstore, and she took in a game at the Durham Bulls Athletic Park, the New DAP to some of us. She had breakfast at Elmo's Diner which looked like a great place though Southwest Cheese grits isn't likely to be on my plate, lunch at Mama Dip's (Catfish Gumbo), Cracker Jack at the New DAP, and supper at The Barbeque Joint where she learned the difference between Eastern North Carolina barbaque and all those other things claiming to be barbeque. She topped it off with an iced cappuccino at Cafe Driade. Though I'd probably make somewhat different food choices, she had what would basically be a perfect day as far as I'm concerned.

The crowning part of this show was her visit to the New DAP. Not only did I get to see what the place looks like, inside and out (sadly, too much like other stadia of its vintage), the visiting team was the Syracuse Skychiefs. That the Bulls' opposition was one of my local teams was a happy coincidence for me, but what made me even happier was that I recognized, in a fleeting glimpse, the Skychiefs' pitcher, Mike Smith.

Coffee-Flavored Misses Looks like My Barista was partly right. He predicted the winning team would score 9 runs, and that Boomer would be lifted inthe 5th, and that the number 2 was connected to the final score.

Blood of the Savior

No shortage of allusions and comparisons of baseball and religion exists, from Annie Savoy's soliloquy ("The only church that truly feeds the soul day in and day out is the Church of Baseball") to calling ballparks Green Cathedrals to scholarly volumes (The Faith of 50 Million: Baseball, Religion, and American Culture). Love of the game literally saved my life so I am disinclined to easily dismiss such comparisions.

The National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown is acknowledged as a shrine and the Hall proper resembles nothing so much as a classic church, from the materials from which it was built, marble, granite and oak, to the shape and layout with the soaring dome of the santuctuary at one end and the plaques serving as stations of the cross throughout the nave.

So it is no surprise that on my latest visit (apparently I cannot pass through Cooperstown without stopping in at the HOF) that I should find on display the Blood of the Savior. On the top floor where the current reigning World Series winning team is celebrated, one can see Curt Schilling's bloody sock, along side Manny's bat and Papi's jersey. Seeing the sock there, the iron rust colored blot fairly small, evoked a sense of delight, as memories of the Series and the incredible season that preceded it unfurled, and a sense of the absurd, that this soiled garment serves as the modern version of a reliquary.

In the grand scheme of things, it seems only fitting that I viewed this religious artifact on Good Friday.

Coffee-flavored wishes My Barista this morning made his Opening Day prediction: Boomer will give up a couple runs, be lifted in the fifth, and the Scuzziest Looking Man in Baseball will get lit up, final score 9 - 7 Red Sox.

Draft Day!

Yesterday was draft day for my fantasy league, our sixth season. Most of the original participants are still at it, the same guy usually wins (or comes in a very close second and that winner drops out), the same two or three battle for last place. What are you looking at me for? Some day I am going to beat Big Dog.

Unfortunately, too many people were unable to be online at draft time, though those of us who were there had a good time. Spike owes me a six of Moose Drool and I'm going to hold him to it.

Having so many people on auto-select probably worked to my advantage because I got what I consider some great picks. The team runs toward Red Sox (no suprise there) and young, guys I've watched play in the minors*.

Huskytown Dukes, 2005
Moises Alou
Bronson Arroyo* (once you've seen his weird leg kick live, you never forget it)
Josh Beckett
Matt Clement
Brendon Donnelly *
Adam Eaton*
Lew Ford *
Nomar Garciaparra
Eric Hinske *
Torii Hunter
Wade Miller (if he doesn't come through, My Barista's gonna owe me a cuppa or two)
Eric Milton
Doug Mirabelli
Bill Mueller
David Ortiz
AJ Pierzynski *
Manny Ramirez*
David Riske*
Grady Sizemore *
BJ Upton*
Jason Varitek
Tim Wakefield
Ty Wigginton *
Dontrelle Willis
David Wright ****

Trade talk is already in the air, so my Opening Day roster may look a bit different but I think this team has what it takes to come in 10th.

That would be a couple steps up; we're 13 teams strong this year.

Caffeinated Prognostications

My Barista says Schilling will throw everyone under the bus.

At the drive-through coffee place where I get my morning fix, I also get the latest baseball news and predictions from My Barista R. This handsome young man (whose looks are vaguely suggestive of Theo Epstein), is, like me, an avid Red Sox fan in the swamp of Yankee Territory, and he is up extremely early each day checking out the latest on the Sox, the Yankees, and occasionally other ballplayers. When he serves up my joe (okay it's mocha) he also serves up the newest tidbits, like who threw how many pitches, whose arm is sore, who's rumored to be on the trading block. Most days I don't bother to log in to ESPN.com until late afternoon because My Barista gave me the highlights in the early AM.

The glaring difference between his fanhood and mine is his fluctuating belief in our team. His confidence in their ability to get the job done changes more frequently, and quickly, than the tide. In 2004, he had written off the Red Sox when Pay-Rod went to the Yankees instead of the Sox. Not entirely true, as his confidence in how they would play and how they would finish the season rose and fell repeatedly before Opening Day, and continued to do so throughout the season. Several times in 2004, he wrote them off, only days later, based on some turn of events, he predicted them to win the division. Throughout the season, every time he got down on the team I would tell him to be patient, they weren't done yet. That was my message to him through early April, mid-August, and into October, right up to the start of Game 1 of the Series.

So when the Scuzziest Looking Man in Baseball signed with the Yankees in the off-season, My Barista started writing off the 2005 season for the Sox. Here we go again.

This morning his comments were about Curt Schilling and Congress. Although we haven't discussed the steriods issue at any length (the line of cars can cut our talks to only a phrase or two), we both are looking forward to his testimony. My Barista predicts Schilling will be very forthcoming, because "that's the way he is." Schilling does seem to be a man of virtue, in an age that claims to prize virtue yet actually mocks and disparages it. It will be more interesting to hear what he has to say than anything Canseco has written so far.

I hope My Barista is right on this one.

Passing It On

Baseball is a generational game.

It's known for being passed down from father to son, parent to child, grandparent to child. It is part of what makes baseball what it is, stories passed along, so that it becomes one long continual communion. We know about Babe Ruth, about Merkle's Boner, about Wally Pipp, about Country Slaughter's Mad Dash. Those of us in Red Sox Nation may be just a bit more aware of historical context than other parts of the baseball world, though Yankee Territory is just as steeped in the interconnection of generations.

Passing it on is one of the joys of baseball for me. Sparky and Statman's young daughters receive baseball story books and tiny team socks as early totems. Grace and her sister Mellow come to the ballpark with me, experiencing the Game as a real thing, not an artifical television event, learning to love the beauty of the game, its intricacies and its simplicities. (Grace could confidently explain the Infield Fly Rule at age 15.) They have been doing this long enough that they talk about the guys they used to watch and wonder where they are playing now. (We've made a deal to watch last year's group of Guys this season when they visit nearby at the AAA level .)

This past week I gave a condensed version of my classroom presentation on Women in Baseball for a noontime program at the community college where I work. Being able to pass the Game along in the classroom is good; I team-teach a social science course on Baseball in American Culture. But this presentation was particularly special for me. In the classroom, sometimes it feels like we're just spouting info and students are silently aborbing it, or perhaps it is bouncing off, unheeded. In this setting, it was a small group who displayed avid interest in the subject, including a history instructor and her student who wants to do a paper on women in baseball. There were questions and comments aplenty throughout my talk, and a long discussion at the end, touching on many of the cultural aspects addressed, or at least alluded to, in the presentation. The history instructor afterward told me she hadn't realized how far back in time women had been actively involved in baseball, to what extent, and where they stood today, at all levels of the game on and off the field, and that she was taking away knowledge she would be using in her classroom. The student went away feeling confident about doing her paper, that it was a subject worthy of serious study. The talk allowed the opportunity to pass along Baseball, in a way most people may not even consider, and to pass along cultural history of women, things that as younger women they may not even have been aware of previously.

At my aunt's funeral over the weekend, the priest spoke about sharing stories of her with the generations present and those yet to come. One of the things I enjoy most about gathering with other baseball junkies is the sharing of stories. Almost everyone can tell one about a baseball memory that stands out from their childhood , stories that are not so much the stories of the players, but of themselves connecting to the game. I collect these stories, make them part of the treasure trove of baseball.

The desire, the need to connect the past to the future is part of what makes us who we are, and makes Baseball what it is.

A Community of Baseball

Baseball does not exist in a vacuum, it exists in a community. Or rather, in communities.

Not the towns and cities, but a community of people. The Syracuse AAA franchise is the “Community Owned Baseball Club of CNY, Inc.” but the community is not limited to the physical location of that city, or even the physical space of that ballpark though a community exists within those walls, in those stands.

Over the years I have belonged to several different baseball communities. The larger, over-reaching community of “Fan,” but other smaller, more specialized groups, groups that rarely overlap though I know virtually any member of one of those communities would feel a connection to another member of any of the other communities, if not instantly at least more quickly than you can say “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.”

Each of these communities is special to me. There is, of course, the community of my ballpark. Make that ballparks. Even on the road, it is easy to slip into the local ballpark community. There is the community of those I share a box section with, the vendors, the ushers and the office personnel, even to some extent the players themselves. And there is the community I declared after my first gathering with them “my tribe,” one devoted to the study of baseball, a community which rarely addresses the game, but considers The Game as a topic of serious study and contemplation, a community that also entertains itself by joyfully playing an archaic version of the game in a cow pasture: Mind the woodchuck holes!

None of these communities is any more precious to me than my online community, a living, breathing community of relatively long standing in terms of the Internet. Because we know each other only through words on a screen, we know each other in ways that we don’t know the people we sit next to game after game, night after night. Issues that rarely get addressed in face to face situations are examined and parsed, and over time we have come to anticipate each others’ reactions. A verbal shorthand has grown up among us, inside jokes live on for years., memories of shared occurrences, the arguments and agreements, laughter and even tears. Although we haven’t, with a few exceptions, ever met face to face, do not share the same time zone or even the same continent, we are nonetheless a tight-knit community. We have shared not only baseball, from the high flights of intellectual fancy to the “did you see that hit?” ephemeral moments, we have shared what a community shares: courtship, marriage, divorce, illness, births, deaths, job losses, relocations. I spent several years caring for my mother at home as Alzheimer’s ravaged her and this baseball community provided support that got me through the most difficult seven years of my life, a saving grace that helped me survive. Sometimes the support we give is through our public discussion arena, but often it is done on the side, off-line in email. Others within the community have provided similar to support to each other, whether they know it or not. It may be explicit, it may be unspoken. Either way, it is a community I am proud to be a part of it, a community I love.

That Sound

From out of nowhere, swack.

Through a construction quirk, my office overlooks the open gymnasium so I hear a lot of ping ping ping all winter long as the basketball teams practice, a noise that gets a mite annoying around the 36th straight working hour of listening to it.

But this morning when I stepped out of my office, I heard it, that sound, of a ball hitting a catcher's mitt. Pitcher's got some arm for the leather to be making that exploding snap. One throw is muffled, more of a thud when it connects, curveball a little wide.

It's like getting a sniff of cigarette smoke or a lingering sip of whiskey or whatever drug has hold of your soul. Just one taste and you're ready for it, you need it. Even though you think you don't crave it, you have to have it.

Bring on the baseball. I'm ready for some sunshine, a cold one, and young men dancing on a field of green.

In No Big Hurry

Usually by this time of year (February is the longest month) I am eager, even anxious, for spring training to get underway. I observe "Pitchers and Catchers Report" as a sacred holiday. But not this year.

And it's not just because the Red Sox did the impossible. Not only did the impossible, but did it in such an improbable manner. (I write fiction and if I had submitted a manuscript with that plot line, it would have been tossed as unbelievable.)

No, 2004 was a great season, perhaps the greatest season I will ever experience. The Red Sox were a key component of the utter bliss the 2004 season was, but there was also the revelation of David Wright (3B, NYM) who demonstrated daily what baseball truly is all about, the sheer joy of playing the game with enthusiasm for all parts of it. I got to see him play for the first 2 1/2 months of the season at the AA level, then got to see him at AAA when the Tides made their only trip north the week following his promotion.

I got to see my favorite minor leaguer, Earl Snyder, play several times, every game when the Paw Sox were visiting locally, and again up at Rochester right after his brief call-up to the Olde Towne Team. Not only did I get to see him play (and another favorite, Brian Daubach), I got to share the experience with my best friend and her daughters; the older, Grace, has been bitten by the baseball bug (despite the embarrassment her mom and I put her through in public-- she's at that age). Instead of one game a season at the local park, this year my friend and her daughters came with me for several games including one with Grace only, and we're planning another road trip like the one to see Earl Snyder play, perhaps an overnighter because Grace would like to experience other ballparks. The four of us took a road trip unrelated to baseball, planned before spring training had begun, that landed us in New England for the start of the World Series, an unexpected, welcome treat.

I revisited a ballpark, on the spur of the moment taking a weekend road trip after My Guys had been out of town for 3 weekends in a row, to catch them in New Britain (and accidently ended up at the same hotel -- quiet group, wouldn't have known they were there if I hadn't seen the bus in the parking lot or the coaches at McDonald's at breakfast.) I also added two new parks to my collection including what is, aside from my Home Park, my favorite ballpark, in Harrisburg. I'm hoping one of those road trips we plan will be to that lovely island park.

I also was given tickets for a late August Red Sox game, a huge unexpected treat as I haven't been able to get to Fenway for a while and didn't know when I would get another chance. I was given the right number of tickets to take a friend and his 13 year old daughter to her first professional baseball game. Not only did she get to see the pending world champions play, she got to see Pedro Martinez warming in the bullpen just in front of our seats.

My dad, not much of a baseball fan himself (though he says he wants to come to more than one game this coming year), made a point of being with me to watch the final game at each level of the playoffs because he knew this was historic, and important to me, and he wanted to share it with me.

It's going to be tough for another season to top this one.