Draft Day Come and Gone

Draft Day is the best day of the entire Fantasy League season. The application we use moves at near-breakneck speed (90 seconds!) so the entire draft is completed in approximately two hours, a little more, a little less depending on how many people are on autopick (3 seconds) and how many people haven't a clue who they want to pick (90 seconds) or how many people are present but absent (90 seconds). Although our rosters have 25 slots, 4 are already assigned to our keepers from last season, so the draft is 21 rounds long and we have 12 teams (we have had as many as 15 and would like to get a few more managers to keep the competition stronger) so in theory the draft could take 6 hours and 18 minutes, but the longest we've gone since we switched to the current app is 2 hours and 24 minutes.

So there's the speed thing, the draft's done before you get (too) bored with it. In the later rounds people start grabbing players because they have a good baseball name, i.e. Stubby Clapp, or they have a sentimental attachment to a player.

The app provides a Live Chat space so draft day is the only time we are all online together (though it's never truly been everyone but spread out across a couple continents makes a good time for everyone impossible) and we spend much of it mocking each other's choices and our own. Seasons when the keepers had not been pre-assigned by the commish and not excluded by managers we spent a big chunk of our live chat announcing another keeper gone to the wrong teem and betting which keeper would be next.

The live chat has dwindled as our original line up of managers has shifted away from the initial group that started the league and moved toward a group with fractured acquaintances. New managers are brought in by someone already in the league, but there is no shared history between the newest manager and the previously established group. It's good to have new blood, but it also feels more like a pool of isolated stat geeks. The original Talkin' Baseball crew came from a common forum, where we had spent literally years arguing and debating the game so we had a strong connection, an understanding of the person/persona behind the wheel of each of the teams.

Normally I schedule at work vacation time so I can keep up with the draft while also working undisturbed in my office. The date I selected this year was the day my workplace was shut down for Spring Break so that option was out. My dial-up access at home no longer has the vigor necessary to run the draft app so I took my laptop to Tim Horton's for the free Wi-Fi. I had used it before, in December, to submit my final papers for an online class and anticipated there would be no problem. Nope. No access, no Wi-Fi. The donut was good, the coffee so-so, but no Wi-Fi. Hence no draft day fun for me.

I guess I should go check out who's on the Huskytown Dukes roster before Opening Day.

Tony C - I Can't Get Over You

One of the things I do on a (nearly) daily basis is visit baseball-reference.com to view the list of players born that day and read the history log. Sometimes it's the expected info, other times it's a kernel of odd or neglected history. Like the bleachers burning down at Fenway in the 1930's, or the spat between Babe Ruth and Harry Frazee through the newspapers. Players and owners taking shots at each other through the media is nothing new.

Most days it's a quick visit to the site, maybe an interesting tidbit to share with my inivisipeeps on our history page. Occasionally, it's something that gives me pause. Today is one of those.

Born this day, in 1945, Anthony Richard Conigliaro. Tony C.

Tony Conigliaro had the makings of a superstar. In an era dominated by pitchers, he maintained a .270 batting average, a .334 on base percentage, and averaged 26+ home runs a season. He led the AL in homers in his second season, hitting 32 in 1965. He reached 100 home runs when he was 22, youngest player to reach 100 home runs in the AL, younger than A-Rod, younger than Johnny Bench, Hank Aaron, or Ken Griffey Jr.

Tony C, born in Revere, MA, graduated from Lynn, MA high school, was a home grown hero for the Red Sox. In his first plate appearance at Fenway, he hit a home run.

He was handsome, he was talented, he was popular. Like current-day superstars, he dabbled in show business, recording some songs, dating starlets.

Tony C gave hope to Boston's fans that the Red Sox could win the pennant and return to the World Series. He was part of the Impossible Dream team of 1967. Following a number of losing seasons, the Red Sox of 1967 were not expected to do well as the season opened, but they proved to be a new, different team, led by Carl Yazstremski as he won the last* triple crown in major league history. In August, as Boston caught up to the league leading White Sox, Tony C's place in baseball history was sealed.

On August 18, Tony C was beaned at the plate by Angels' pitcher Jack Hamilton.

The injury was big news, and the image of this baseball god-to-be became the haunting reminder of what the Red Sox lost, what Tony lost, what all of baseball lost.


He was out for the season, nearly blind in his left eye. He made a comeback in 1968, sporting a new batting helmet with an extension designed to protect his eye and cheek. He put together a couple more good seasons with the Sox, was trade to the Angels in 1971 where it became clear his career as a hitter was over. Tony was not done with baseball yet as he mounted a campaign to return as a pitcher and did in 1975 for a short time.

Tony was preparing to return to Boston, as a broadcaster, when he suffered a heart attack, quickly followed by a stroke that left him in a vegetative state. He died eight years later in his parents' home. He was 45.

Although I never saw Tony C play, I can easily imagine what it would have been like to see him play. I can do no more than sigh the lament "if only" and share his story with those who never heard of "Tony C," of "Conig." Most fans know landmarks of Fenway, Pesky's Pole and its partner that Fisk hit his historic homer off, the Green Monster, they may even know about the red seat in the bleachers where a man was hit by a Ted Williams' homer, but they probably aren't aware of Conigliaro's Corner, the small triangle of seats where the bleachers meet the left field wall. Tony had trouble seeing the ball coming out the pitcher's hand against the back drop of bright clothing, so that section is covered with tarps during day games.

When Tony made his original comeback, he wrote a book, with Jack Zanger, about his career, about the injury, and the fight to return to baseball. Written pre-Ball Four, it was an optimistic story of overcoming a serious injury, while downplaying how devastating the injury actually was. Years later, David Cataneo wrote a fuller, richer account of Tony's life, Tony C: The Triumph and Tragedy of Tony Conigliaro, a wonderfully moving book of a working class hometown hero who lost it all.

Church at Faith Night

Liviana and I organized an outing for people from work to attend a B-Mets game and while people had fun, I'm concerned the bar was set too high!

It was a gorgeous night, great looking sky, temps very comfortable--Liviana and I didn't put our sweatshirts on until the final out. The B-Mets and the visiting NH Fisher Cats played well, and quickly--the game was over in under 2.5 hours.

We got everyone a seat in the box where we usually sit near first base; they're such great seats it was tough thinking we couldn't sit there when we first started putting this gathering together. Not only did we get a group discount, but because it was family fun pack night there were vouchers for a free hot dog and a free soda for everyone in the group.

Kids in the group got baseballs from players during the game, some members of the group were on the Big Board at different times, and one even got to play a between-innings contest.

People in the group partook of just about every food and drink offering at the park: popcorn, peanuts, ice cream, hot dogs, spiedies, salt potatoes, french fries.....One person came directly to the seats upon arrival then went for another beer; she came back several outs later exclaiming, "There's a whole other world down there [under the stands]!"

In addition to all that, the B-Mets, who won the game 4-2, had two rehabbing major leaguers on the field, Luis Castillo and Ryan Church. On Faith Night.

Ryan Church, you may recall, is on my fantasy roster, so I was tickled to see him play. I've seen him before, when he was with Akron. I went to meet up with some rabid Indians fans for an Aeros' game and I remember Church playing there that night. In his first at bat, despite pine tar and batting gloves, he had trouble hanging onto the bat.


You've heard how time slows down when you're in an accident? Whenever a foul ball pops up in our vicinity in the stands I have a hard time telling where it's headed, usually off by 10 or 12 rows easily. I had no trouble seeing that bat.

It came helicoptering straight at us. I had time to think, 'if it were a foul ball I would duck but if I duck now, this bat's going to hit me right in the head; just don't move.'

The barrel end grazed me in the ribs and the knob end grazed Mellow. Liviana threw her arm up and it banged her elbow as it came to rest in her lap.

We just started laughing. The usher rushed over to make sure we were okay; we smiled and laughed as we assured him we were okay. Then another of the B-Mets' employees came to retrieve the bat (unbroken bats are placed back into play) and check on us.

The bat went back to Church, and a different, dark-barreled bat came out of the dugout and was passed up to us. Church grounded out to second on the next pitch, breaking his bat.

I spent the next inning at the other side of the box, chatting with late arrivals, and as I sat there, just above the dugout, another bat emerged, people motioning up toward me. It was Church's bat, taped back together, autographed, for me.

The next morning when I got to work, someone brought me the Press-Sun Bulletin's sports section with the photo of Church (above) the above-the-fold feature.

How can we possibly equal that next year?

June 19. I'm telling people to mark their calendars.

Catch as Cash Can

It's almost a perfect storm in baseball: the Red Sox at Fenway, a knuckleballer on the mound, and a player I've enjoyed watching in the minors behind the plate.

Kevin Cash was booted back and forth between Toronto and Syracuse for a number of seasons. Once upon a time he was considered a hot prospect, but that fizzled out as so often does with young players, the reason sometimes obvious, sometimes mysterious. Cash was one of the few SkyChiefs I rooted for and I was disappointed that he wasn't getting a serious chance with the Jays.

Tim Wakefield filled me with terror when he was the closer for the BoSox, but as a starter he's a perennial. Like any knuckleballer, he has his days, those when the ball dips and dances and flutters and floats unhittably by the batters, and those when it's Home Run Derby time.

It takes someone special to catch a knuckleball. It takes someone with a lot of collected cool, especially when that someone catches only every fifth day.

Back when Wake was in the bullpen, Jason Varitek was the guy who geared up whenever Wake got the call. But Tek is too valuable to the Sox to relegate him to caddy status, much too valuable to risk injury at the hands of the knuckler.

Once Wake was part of the rotation, the Sox found a caddy for him, Doug Mirabelli. And Doug's ability to wrangle the knuckleball and maintain sanity as a part-time player neutralized his hitting ability. Which wasn't all that bad for a guy in his position. Theo Epstein was credited with an error for trading Mirabelli away, redeemed himself by getting Doug back, literally just in time to catch Wake.

And now Mirabelli's gone. It seems his replacement is on hand. Kevin Cash makes catching a knuckleball look easy, almost easy. That he is able to throw out a runner attempting to steal second while catching said knuckler is close to amazing. Hitting a homer off the Unit? Kevin Cash has secured his position, yoked to Tim Wakefield, not a bad place to be.

photo from http://www.bostonherald.com/

SymposiumReunion

Another great gathering in Cooperstown for the annual symposium. Not only did we have great speakers and great papers, we had great weather! It didn't rain (our last few town ball games have been rained out) and it wasn't too hot (my motel room was 86F overnight the year between rain outs).

Curt Smith was the keynote speaker, talking about baseball broadcasters, a lively, dramatic, feel good session.

Remembering Branch Rickey was the main plenary session, and it was wonderful. The panel consisted of people (let's say it, MEN) from colleges he was associated with including Ohio Wesleyan, Michigan Law, and Allegheny, institutions where he studied, institutions where he worked, as well as Earl Warren, Jr, Thurgood Marshall, Jr, and Ira Glasser, former director of the ACLU, and Branch Rickey, president of the Pacific Coast League, the grandson. We all know Mr. Rickey's story, creating the farm system, re-integrating major league baseball, and these panelists added depth and texture to the story. Glasser's theory of Rickey and Robinson's influence on a generation that grew up determined to contest discrimination was most interesting and thought-provoking.

Sessions I particularly enjoyed were on Baseball in the Classroom, suffragettes using baseball to advance their cause, MLB marketing to women (we like the players better if they're smiling rather than glowering in their photos on the jumbotron, how much did they pay to learn that?), arbitrators in baseball (Roger Abrams), and baseball players as popular musicians. I knew Tony C had recorded in his early too-quickly-ended career, but this presenter gave me the chance to hear him sing. (I need to dig up my Rick Cerone 45 to add to his collection.)

Barry Lyons was on hand, brought by one of the senior presenters, to talk about his major league career, surviving Hurricane Katrina, and his efforts to bring minor league baseball to Biloxi. Barry was happy to answer questions, but I noted a different sense of communication, of connection, when Dan Ardell, a Symposium regular, member of the expansion Angels, asked Barry about pitchers.

The town ball game was moved to Cooper Park, adjacent to the Hall, and while it was a fine setting, except for the trees blocking the view, it was a little disappointing as the tradition keg of beer was banned. Dinner, instead of a picnic, was in the Hall. Not just in the museum, but in the Hall itself. The Hall of Famers congregate in that very place for their induction weekend reception. Kind of cool.

Mark your calendars: next year's Symposium is June 11, 12, and 13. Friday the 13th.

Never too proud

The B-Mets and the Sea Dogs were having quite the game Saturday evening, a pitcher's duel.

Portland's starter Tom Hottovy gave up only one hit over six innings. Binghamton's starter Kevin Mulvey was more generous, four hits over seven innings.

The game was scoreless going into the bottom of the eighth when it looked the B-Mets were finally going to get on the board when they loaded the bases with only one out. But the Slowest Man on Earth was on third. Jose Coronado flied out to left and Brett Harper started chugging toward home. He should be arriving any time now.

Bottom of the ninth the first two B-Met batters singled then both advanced on a passed ball. Sea Dogs intentionally walked Jose Reyes (the other Jose Reyes) to load the bases and get the Slowest Man on Earth up to bat. Not such a great idea, Brett has a swing that makes the flags in centerfield flutter.



All Brett had to do was wiggle his fingers in a "come here" motion to Mark Kiger standing on third when the Sea Dogs' pitcher let loose with a wild pitch.

B-Mets win 1-0.

My Guys, in that Place

Just when I thought I wouldn't have to go to the stadium in Syracuse for more than the Louisville visit (to see the Duke of Earl play) since the Mets AAA team is in the Pacific Coast League (at least for this season), I saw the 2007 Chiefs roster.

Damn. Two of My Guys will be starting the season in Syracuse.


Russ Adams: I saw him play during his first professional season, in Auburn, when even at that stage he looked like a big league shortstop, and again when he reached AA with the New Haven Ravens. He spent some time with the Blue Jays, but has been sent back to AAA to get more playing time. Russ may not rank as the best, but he's a damn good shortstop and a good lead-off hitter.

Jeff Duncan: I saw him play in Binghamton, where he was a fan favorite. He played with enthusiasm and skill. (Silly memory: Jeff always pulled his back pockets inside out when he took his batting gloves out of them and whenever he reached first base, Howard Johnson, in the first base coach's box, would always tuck in Jeff's pocket linings.) He was a player with obvious potential, but the Mets derailed his career. He was literally pulled out of a game to go up to New York during his first season in AA, in mid-May, and the Mets expected too much too quickly. When he wasn't an instant success, not a phenom, they trashed him. The New York Mets broke him; he's spent a season in AA, Mobile, and a season in AAA, Las Vegas. Here's hoping this season is the one that sees him get another chance at the Show.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Sunday Night Baseball back on? Check

AL and NL reports other than trades and signings on the crawl? Check

Baseball highlights on Sports Center? Check

Opening day game to watch while eating supper? Check (Red Sox, bonus check)

Wednesday Night Baseball back on, at least for a while? Check

New field at the college ready for use? Check (fingers crossed that the home opener isn't rained out as regional play was)

Report in the school district's newsletter that the school once again has a varsity baseball team, and a refurbished field including dugouts? Check

The Duke of Earl Snyder still playing? )On Louisville's roster, looking good in the media guide.) Check

Dates Louisville will be playing close enough to go see Earl play? Check, posted

New player on the horizon to look for? Check (though may be a season away)

It's BASEBALL SEASON!!!!!

Ump Update

Ria Cortesio has gotten another assignment that signals her progress to the Show is still happening, though at a glacial pace.

Last year she worked the Futures Game, the minor league hot prospects' showcase attached to the All-Star hoopla. This spring she's working a major league exhibition game, another step in moving up. Not all umpires who work MLB exhibition games end up umpiring in the majors, but it is a usual "tryout" step umpires go through. Although umpires, like players, have to work their way up through the levels, they're not subject to sudden call-ups from the lower levels of the game; there are no Nuke Lalooshes among umpires.

When Ria gets promoted to AAA, it will probably be with the Pacific Coast League. Not because there will likely be an opening there first, nor because that league is less conservative, (Pam Postema spent her years umpiring AAA in the PCL), but because I won't have a chance to see her work.

Here's hoping it happens this year. Ria deserves a hot tub of her own.

Think Pink

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Everyone, men as well as women, should check their breasts for lumps routinely; if you don't know how to perform a self exam, the Susan G. Komen website will show you how.

October is also Fire Prevention/Fire Safety Awareness Month.

Stop, drop and roll, and get a mammogram.