New Blog on the Roll

I'm adding another listing to my Baseball Blog Roll, We've Got Heart, a blog devoted to the Washington Nationals, from a woman's point of view, well, several women's points of view. Not only do they cover the Nats, which will be of interest as they are now Syracuse's affiliate, they have one section on "Women in Baseball" and they have a baseball bookshelf.

Shhh...My Story's On

Back when I was in school, my mother was a faithful follow of a soap opera. She didn't watch soap operas in general, she had her favorite, Another World and its spin-off, Somerset, and when they were on everything came to a halt, household tasks were in suspended animation.

I'll admit that for a couple years I watched along with Mom. Somerset came on right about the same time I arrived home from school. I lost the habit and interest when I went away to college, but it was in college that I was introduced to professional baseball. So in a way, I was primed for the Yankees of the late seventies, the Bronx Zoo years.

I wouldn't say I was a fan of the team, but I found the daily dramas highly entertaining. Stirring drinks, firing and hiring and firing and hiring and, pine tar, all of it contributed to making the Billy-Reggie-Thurman-George Follies the most fascinating show baseball had to offer at the time. The loss of the captain not only was a personal, human tragedy, it heightened the continuing drama in New York.

When I came back to baseball, after my self-imposed 14-year exile, I looked for some remnant of that ongoing saga. But there was nothing. Baseball was well behaved, players and owners were sedate.

The Dirt Dawgs proclaiming themselves Idiots who cowboyed up was a welcome ray of hope for a return of a dramatic comedy of manners in baseball. Nomar's whining, Manny being Manny, Kevin Millar reclaimed from Japan, all of these only made the Red Sox more lovable. Not only did they provide entertainment on the field, they provided it off as well.

So the latest news flashes, Barry Bonds on trial, Roger Clemens headed to court, Alex Rodriguez exposed, Roberto Alomar accused, all of it is wonderful. It is not a distraction. It is not irrelevant. It's value added entertainment.

People will say what players do in their private lives is none of our business, but I say anyone who is willing to place themselves in a position that will attract the attention, and money, of the public has relinquished the exclusive rights to their privacy. Like they say about what you should exclude from emails (and internet posting), if you wouldn't want to read it on the front page of the New York Times, keep it to yourself. If you would be ashamed to have your grandmother learn it about you, don't do it.

Bonds, Clemens, and Pay-Rod (oh I've enjoyed the newest crop of nicknames for the best shortstop not playing shortstop: A-Fraud, A-Roid, heehee), what they did was not private. It was not personal. Their indiscreet acts were designed to affect their performance and therefore affect The Game. To those who claim steroids, HGH, and other performance enhancement drugs have no effect, that the superior hand-eye coordination and physical workouts solely are responsible for the jump in production, the ratcheting up of ability, I have to pose the question If these have no effect, why would players use them, continue to use them over a long period of time?

Alomar's situation is different. It is a matter of some privacy, but his case also serves as a springboard for discussions about gender and stereotypes. Discussions that address HIV, AIDS, homosexuality, bisexuality, heterosexuality, ethnicity, and race all can be opened by posing questions about Alomar's situation, real and hypothetical. It is hard to imagine a more difficult position for a man to consider coming out in than as a black Latino baseball player. All three of those identities are bound up in tough rules of masculinity, and when they are combined, the pressure to remain closeted is increased exponentially.

We know there are gay men playing baseball. Professionally. In the majors. But the likelihood that any of them will come out any time soon is minuscule. And as once there were no black men, no men of color playing in the majors, denying boys the model that they could build their dreams around, it is important that young people, boys and girls, see people who resemble themselves on the professional diamond. Girls need to have the reality of playing baseball, not just softball, as possible, as achievable. Gay children, even if they aren't yet aware of their orientation, need to see positive examples of gay men and lesbians within the professional sports world, in baseball in particular.

Football players are caricatures of masculinity. Hockey players, and boxers, exude male strength. Basketball players display strength through endurance and contact on the court. Race car drivers are powerful, controlling high energy machines. Even jockeys, whose physical stature seems to counter the masculine ideals, are virile thanks to their command over race horses. Baseball is the sport that has been considered suspect in terms of manliness, so it continues to be excessive in its own version of machismo, definitely not an environment that would invite openness necessary for a person to come out with any sense of comfort or safety.

In the Bleak Midwinter

With temperatures running in the 0° range, it's sometimes hard to think of baseball. Not that baseball and winter don't make a beautiful combination, such as this photo by Dennis Flood Check out his work at his website.

Another striking wintry baseball photo I found on the web:

In unrelated news, Joe Torre has a book coming about, about The Yankee Years, that reportedly isn't flattering toward the organization and specific individuals, not naming any names cough, Cashman. Fans have been referring to the $25M man as Pay-Rod for years, but apparently his New York teammates call him by another nickname - A-Fraud. One of my favorite baseball books was Sparky Lyle's The Bronx Zoo; I think I'll enjoy this one as well.

How Many Days? Everyone keeps asking me. They want to know about Opening Day, but I don't do a count down for that. The count down is either to Pitchers & Catchers Report to spring training, Feb 14, or the B-Mets home opener, April 16. Hurray, hurray for the B-Mets opening on the road this season, maybe we can avoid chilling temperatures and the necessity of shoveling snow off the field. The first is now less than three weeks away, and the second is 79 days. But who's counting?

Talkin' Baseball Fantasy Leaguers, are you ready for draft day?

Early Card

The Cincinnati Red Stockings were the first professional baseball team, and they apparently had the first baseball team card. It's not a baseball card in the sense we usually think of, the bubble gum card type or its predecessor the tobacco card. It's more like the team photo promo piece.

Still, it's amazing that a bit of ephemera from 1869 acknowledging that first time is still around and in fairly good condition, considering it's been stuck away, forgotten, uncared for since who knows when.

Read the story.

Good Grief--Is It Safe to Look Yet?

I've been rooting for the Rays all season, as well as for the Saux. I was thrilled for the Rays and their fans, who seem to have multiplied like fishes and loaves, when they finished first in the East. DIdn't mind at all that they finished ahead of the Saux, kind of liked their dramatic rise from worst to first. What was important in the AL East standings was that the Rays and the Saux finished ahead of the Yankees--the Saux didn't even have to make it to the Wild Card as long as they finished ahead of the Yankees,

And I was happy when the Rays and the Saux both won their ALDS. I wasn't until they faced each other for the first game of the ALCS that my fealty was tested. I thought I wanted to see the Rays go all the way, but watching Dice-K loading the bases in Tampa Bay, I couldn't bear to see the Saux lose and not make it to the Series.

So I have watched little of this round of the play-offs, though the scores indicate it's been a wild one, pitching duels and home run derbies, not to mention a comebacker like only the Saux can do. When the score for game five was 4-0 I figured the Saux were still in it, but when it went 7-0, I figured it was over and went to bed, only to flip back and see the Saux finally on the board, 7-4, and I recalled that game in 2004 when they were down 7-0 going into the bottom of the ninth in Fenway against the Yanks and won it 8-7.

I'm going to watch tonight, still wanting the Rays to make it to the World Series, but not wanting the Saux to lose.

Combo Post

The final week of the 2008 season had a number of things to note.

It included the 100th anniversary of Merkle's Boner, the baserunning blip that eventually cost the Giants the pennant and sent the Cubs to their most recent World's Series win.

It also included the 100th anniversary of back-to-back shutout wins in a doubleheader, both games pitched by the same man, Ed Reulbach. It's unusual enough to find a pitcher throwing two games in one day, well, in my lifetime it is though it wasn't unheard of during baseball's first century, but for a pitcher to start both halves of a doubleheader and win both games is incredible, but Reulbach shut out the opponents in both games, gave up only 8 hits total that day.

The final Friday of the 2008 regular season saw a slight irregularity that displayed appropriate respect and love when the Red Sox made an exception to their rules regarding retiring players numbers. Johnny Pesky's number 6 will go up on the right field roof along side his teammate Ted Williams (technically it will be beside Yaz's 8) to honor a man who has devoted his life to the Red Sox and Red Sox Nation. He began in baseball as the bat boy/clubhouse kid in the PCL, played through some wonderful years with the Saux, and to this day continues to work with the team.

The last week also provided me with a chance to see another of My Guys playing for the Saux. Gil Velazquez was a promising shortstop when he first arrived in Binghamton. In 2001 he lost his father, and struggled to finish that season. He played a couple more seasons with the B-Mets, during his final season there went through a slump which was broken when, at a friend's son's advice, he had the theme song from Sponge Bob Squarepants played when he came to the plate. When Gil returned the next season as a member of the visiting Fisher Cats, his first at bat was recognized by that song being played over the PA system. Last year I saw him playing for Rochester and was happy for him that he had finally reached AAA. I hadn't seen him at all in 2008 so I was pleasantly surprised when I turned on the final game, the final Sunday, as Gil was coming to bat for the Red Sox.

Rays v Cubs

From the day the Tampa Bay Rays took over first place in the AL East, people have been saying it can't last, they're going to fold. And each time people asked me what I thought of the Rays being in first, I said I was excited about it and although they might fold, I didn't think they would.

For a couple years I've been saying the Tampa Bay organization has been putting together an interesting team, one that would some day soon be a contender. Although to be totally honest I didn't expect them to launch directly to the top so soon. I figured they'd be third or maybe even second in the division as this season got underway. In response to my my opinion that they were building a good team, more than one person dragged out that old chestnut about blind squirrels and acorns, but if that were so, how can so many other teams have fallen so short so many years?

The Rays are made up of wise (and lucky, let's be honest about the effect luck has on baseball) minor league trades and rejected player pick ups. They have not rushed the team, but let them develop.

At the All-Star break people were asking me when I thought the Rays would fold, and I said I don't think that they will. When Labor Day and the stretch drive arrived, people asked me if the Rays were about to fold because it was impossible for a perennial cellar dweller to rise to the top and dominate a strong division, and again I said I don't think they're going to fold.

People give me quizzical looks when I say I'm rooting for the Rays this year and have been all season long. They ask, "What about the Red Sox?" and I say it would be fine with me if the Saux win another World Series, but the big thrill of that win was at its greatest back in 2004. Following the Rays' domination of the AL East has been the most interesting aspect of the 2008 season, and I am rooting for them to win the AL pennant and take on the Cubs.

It's not Iowa, but it's nearly heaven

The B-Mets finished the 2008 season on the road, but I wasn't ready to say good-by to the game for the year before Labor Day. Especially as I had only really started feeling excited about baseball this year in August. So I bit the bullet, checked the schedule and the weather, and headed to Syracuse on the last Sunday of the season.

I walked up the long, long set of stairs to the concourse and I saw someone smiling at me, waving. Tim Wiles, long-suffering Cubs fan, Casey personifier, and author. Surprise! It was writer and book day at the Syracuse ballpark. Half a dozen or so writers were there with copies of their books to sell and sign. If I had known, I would have brought a wad of cash, but I had enough on me to buy four. A few of the writers I knew from Cooperstown, either from the Hall or the Symposium.

Jeff Katz had done a presentation at this year's Symposium on Kansas City and the Yankees during the 1950s. I had attended that session and had really enjoyed it, so it was great to get his book on the subject and to talk with him not only about the presentation, but about writing. The

Symposium was a rare chance for a writer to get direct feedback; this day only added to it.

I also picked up a Ted Williams biography by Bruce Markusen. I never meant to be a fan of The Kid, but he grows more interesting with time. (As does John J. McGraw.)


One publication was more of a booklet than a book. It was the journal of a Adirondack team in the 1920's, something that just got the historian in me all excited.

The final book I bought that sunny afternoon was A Baseball family Album by Gene Carney, a book of baseball poems published by Pocol Press. I've purchased a couple novels from Pocol and every time I've visited their website, I have hemmed and hawed about buying it, so it was nice to be able to buy it directly from the writer. It also gave me a chance to chat with him about PP as I have that press on the top of my list of possible publishers of my novel.

Tim told me I should wait and get his book when I'm next in Cooperstown; given the size of the book, it was a good recommendation. And it gives me added incentive, like I need it, to head to Cooperstown.

I headed to my seat with a small stack of books and had a great day. Especially once I got to my seat and realized I was sitting where I used to sit at MacArthur Stadium, lined up with the shortstop, my favorite spot.

Baseball books at a ballpark for a day game. What else could I ask for? Other than maybe to have Earl Snyder playing still...

Author's Blog Post

Many, if not most, people come to baseball because they played it or they watched it with someone in their family.

Me, I came to baseball through books. It was initially a movie that caught my attention, but that only led me to the novel that was the basis for the film. As soon as I could, I laid my hands on Bang The Drum Slowly. Only to find out it was the second of (then) three novels by Henry Wiggen, with grammatically housekeeping by Mark Harris.

I marveled at his treatment of language, his use of the vernacular that made the book so realistic. I had to read The Southpaw. Still marveling at his use of the American language, I paid attention to the works of baseball, an alien world then. I remember being surprised that a pitcher would every deliberately throw a ball rather than a pitch. My experience had always been that a ball was always just a bad throw.

Ticket For a Seam Stitch naturally came next, though it was a disappointing read, lacking the vitality of the first two books. Henry "Author" Wiggen eventually came out of retirement to please his youngest daughter in It Looked Like For Ever, another book that fell short of Author's, er Harris's first two volumes.

Mark Harris, Henry Wiggen, are in large part responsible for me becoming not only a baseball fan, but a baseball writer. My initial baseball novel ideas sprang from ideas that have long ago roots in the Mammoths. I have paid homage to various baseball writers, non-fiction as well as fiction, in my work, but I owe none of them as much as I owe to Harris. He taught me the game. Everything that followed built on that foundation.

I used to imagine sending him a letter written Wiggen-style to, I don't know, ask his blessing, thank him. As a fan, I am usually struck wordless, not a good thing for a writer. Sadly, Harris died of Alzheimer's in May 2007, particularly saddening for me knowing the disease as I do; my mother died after suffering nearly a decade with the disease, her sister has it was well.

Rambling around the 'net I stumbled across a wonderful homage to Harris at baseballtoaster. Kudos to the Author.

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.

You can't get there from here

Baltimore, Inner Harbor.

I can see it from here, the hotel where I'm staying. The light stantions, the back of the warehouse on Eutaw Street. But I can't get there.

I was in Baltimore for a conference for work. When the anncouncement of the conference arrived I told my supervisor I wanted to go, and I pointed out to her that this was even without checking the Orioles' schedule first. When I did check it, of course the O's were out of town, in Toronto then Boston.

But surely there would be a time slot during the conference when I could get away and take a tour of the stadium, a tour I have been told I have to take. I wasn't worried about finding the time, there's always at least one session in every conference's schedule that has nothing of interest to attend. (see Cooperstown Symposium 2008) And Ifound a time, but when I checked the Orioles' website there were no tours listed for that week.

Since I wasn't going to tour Camden Yards this trip, I decided trying to get over to the Babe Ruth Museum could wait till my next trip as well.

I did stroll a couple piers over from the hotel and checked out the Barnes & Noble, which had described to me as the world's largests B&N, but my source apparently hasn't been in many B&Ns. The interior is dominated by old furnaces and smoke stacks of the power plant originally housed in the structure. When I travel, I look for local editions of the historical picture books put out by Arcadia Publishing; I was in luck, picked up a copy of Baseball in Baltimore.

Baltimore and the surrounding area ballparks are on my list of places to be visited, but since I finally got there, allbeit for an entirely different purpose, I know it's a definite, not a maybe, and it has moved higher on the priority list.

Cooperstown Symposium 2008

Another year, another former major leager tossing the ball for both teams in Town Ball.

As always, there were number of fascinating topics presented at this year's Cooperstown Symposium, so many that there was never a time slot in which there was nothing I wanted to hear so I never got my usual free time to wander Main Street and poke around the stores. I managed to grab a few quick minutes to pop in to Willis Monie Books, chatting with co-symposiite and Cubs' fan Merle as we skimmed the spines crowded into the shelves right inside the door, the hot spot for used books in Cooperstown.

Because this is the centennial of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" the song was, of course, the topic of a presentation. Timothy Johnson's Music Theory for Dummies ("Analysis of Melodic Shape") look at the song was an interactive session, opening with the audience rising to sing the National Anthem, fixing the particular musical theory Dr Johnson was addressing firmly in our own experience. There were a couple other songs we rose to sing, including TMOTTB, and someone nearby expressed exactly what I was thinking, that this session was like being at Mass. We talk about the chuch of baseball and the green cathedrals, so this made perfect sense.

We were to have a demonstration of Pesapallo, Finnish baseball, which was rained out. The presenters, Kevin Casebolt and Shawn Munford of East Stroudsburg University,, gave us a packet that included a schematic of the field which I kept having to refer to to make sense of the rules. The pesapallo diamond is not equilateral like the baseball diamond, and a home run is reaching third.

Terumi Rafferty-Osaki gave an impassioned presentation on the Japanese internment camps and baseball. This is a subject I knew of, but knew little about it, the children's book Baseball Saved Us and the movie American Pastime, but these barely hint at the volumes of information and evidence that Terumi displayed. Each year I find a presentation that opens a whole new arena to explore and take to my classroom and this year it was this one.

There was a session with guest umpires who were with us via video tape and through a son/co-author, talking about umpiring in the Negro Leagues and the Pacific Coast League. (I got a souvenir at this session, a baseball autographed by Branch Rickey. Branch Rickey III, that is, Mr. Rickey's grandson who is president of the PCL. And who looks eerily like his grandfather more than ever.

One participant brings his primary source to the conference and lets the other participants ask what they want to know. Last year he brought a member of the 1986 Mets, who was on the DL and didn't play in the World Series. This year he brought Mario Ramos who is transitioning from being a professional athlete to civilian life. His willingness to speak with a roomful of baseball academic geeks was appreciated as was his apparent introspective take on his role in life. Another former minor leaguer present commented that Mario was much farther ahead, had a more mature outlook, than he himself had at the same age. I suggested that the two of them hold a panel presentation next year with our resident cultural anthropologist and former minor leaguer as moderator.

My favorite session, possibly of all time, was by Stephen Wood and David Pincus. These two have presented in the past and each time it's been a stand out. They've covered music (sung a few songs in the presentation) , they've covered films (I use their movie website http://www.reelbaseball.com/ as a source in my class. This time they presented photos. They're both professional photographers who like to take busman's holidays at ball park, and they've gathered a beautiful collection in a book, Baseball Revealed: A Photo Essay On The Hidden Art In America's Game. I loved this mostly visual presentation. They talked about taking pictures of things other than the action of the game, lines and angles and colors and lighting in and around ballparks that are interesting, and as I watched the images flash past I was enthralled, mostly because they were great shots, but also because they were photos I would have taken. I love the quirky things one can see at a ballpark, the dramas and comedies being played out. People who haven't attended a live professional game, a minor league game in particular, don't understand that the game, the action on the field, is only a part of the experience, and their collection highlights this.

These are a couple of examples from my work, taken at The Beehive in New Britain, CT.

Whoda Thunk?

A pitchers' duel involving Dice-K? I'd expect to see Wake on the mound for one of those before Dice-K.

But Monday's game was exciting to watch. And I have to admit the Twins are probably the team I care about the most second to the Saux, mainly because I've seen so many of them climbing the rungs, from New Britain to Rochester to Minnesota, and enjoyed their playing at each level.

Watching Tek handling Dice-K, and all of the rest of the staff (except Wake with Cash on hand), it's gratifying to see his importance to the pitching staff and therefore the team acknowledged by the players when they voted him onto the All-Star team despite a paltry .214 BA this season.

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/

A month? Already?

So it's been a while since I posted, and I can't blame it on being at too many games....

I logged on today to post, to try to catch up, but first I took a quick peek at the Syracuse Chiefs blog and was happy to see that Dave has had the great fortune of experiencing the fan-friendly ballpark in Binghamton. I left a long comment that I hope he okays for posting. Here's what I wrote:

A long time ago, I used to use the experiences I had at MacArthur Stadium serve as my benchmarks for evaluating other ballparks. After that stadium fell and the new one was built in Syracuse, I gave up. Years later someone introduced me to the B-Mets.
From day one I have been blown away by what a great fan experience this team provides, and over the past decade they have just continued to get better and better at it.
There is an infectious sense of fun at the Binghamton ballpark, something I have praised repeatedly in my own blog, while giving a repeatedly thumbs down on the experience in Syracuse.
If Syracuse should land the Mets' PD contract, they will need to step up the enjoyment and fan-friendliness if they want to win over the fans that will begin making the trek from Binghamton to Syracuse to follow the boys of summer up the minor league rungs.

My Guys

When I say "My Guys" I'm usually referring to the B-Mets, or to individual B-Mets who have moved on, and generally upward, but on a recent sunny Saturday, My Guys meant, well, My Guys.

I attended a game on campus and had a good time cheering on the team, which included three young men who had been in my baseball class in the fall. All three of them made a point of greeting me, and one went out of his way to thank me for coming to support the team. That this particular young man has Derek Jeter as his favorite ballplayer is not surprising.

I struck me as I was walking to my car after the games that these young men really are My Guys. And I look forward to having more young men, maybe some day a young woman or two, participate in my class and play for the college' team.

Petrosky

Recently the Hall of Fame announced that Dale Petrosky was leaving as president, an announcement that I greeted happily. Under Petrosky, the Hall because a much more serious museum and a serious and scholarly research facility, good things. But it also became a little to serious about itself, and there were conservative, right-wing elements introduced to the Hall that made it less the National Baseball Hall of Fame and more the Republican Baseball Hall of Fame. Employees were pushed toward professionalism, but to an overbearing point. Military service by Hall of Famers was honored in excess. Petrosky cancelled an event meant to commerate one of the best baseball films ever made, Bull Durham, because he, or perhaps Board Chair Jane Clark Forbes, was concerned that the film's stars, Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins, would make it a political event by voicing dissent toward the then-recently begun Iraq war. Petrosky instead denied them and baseball fans the opportunity to celebrate a love of The Game, he turned it into a political protest. While Petrosky brought much good to the Hall, it is good now that he is no longer at the helm.

Goodbye, Earl

I've looked and I've looked, but I have yet to find Earl Snyder listed on any organized baseball team's roster, as a player or a coach.

I miss Earl.

Home

Went to Binghamton on April 6 for my first game of the season there.

And as I was approaching the entry game, a sense of welcome and calm came over me.

I chatted with the ticket taker a bit before heading down the concourse, and when the next familiar face asked how I was, I said, "It's good to be home."

Not just at a ballpark. This ballpark. As Ben Wrightman says in Fever Pitch, this is my summer family.



This is my happy place.

Fantasy Update

The Talkin' Baseball League has 14 onwers/managers. On April 3, the Huskytown Dukes were in 10th place.

On April 4, they were in 1st.

Apparently all of the starting pitchers on my roster pitch on the same day. It's gonna be a wild ride in that case.

Today, they're in 3rd. I gotta blame it on David Ortiz. Papi's not hitting, I've got to bench him.

Green is Good

There be grass here!

Yes, Syracuse now has a green grass diamond, and the "new" stadium finally looks like a ballpark. They celebrated Opening Day with green balloons.

Not only have they ripped up that ugly ugly blue-green cement hard carpet, they've added a warning track and padded the outfield walls. They also moved the bullpens from behind the outfield wall to along the stands in foul territory on either side; however, they've also built a small fence (maybe it's going to be an actual wall and what was visible last week is only the framework) to separate the bullpen crew from the fans.

So as long as you get quickly to your seat and stay away from the concourse, the stadium in Syracuse is not too bad a place to watch a ball game.

Because of a slew of personal problems, I haven't been able to plan ahead, so I hadn't planned to go to Opening Day anywhere, but since the weather was so nice and Syracuse had a day game scheduled, I headed that way. I was relatively late, got there about 15 minutes before game time. Yes, I know, nice day, opening day, stadium improvements, all things to draw out people who don't normally show up--like Easter Christians--so I expected to have to wait a bit. Fifteen minutes to get to the parking lot (and I ended up in the overflow lot!) wasn't outrageous, but 40 minutes to purchase a ticket was. There are eight ticket windows, but typical Syracuse management operations: 2 windows dedicated to Will Call (I saw 3 people go to Will Call the entire time), 2 windows dedicated to General Admissions (not at all busy - the upper deck was nearly deserted), 3 windows open for ticket sales, 1 window not open until after the game had actually started.

Syracuse had another day game a week later -- no crowd at all. But at least the grass looked greener.

First Lady of Baseball

Today is Effa Manley's birthday, the only woman enshrined in Cooperstown.


her plaque in the Hall

Effa no only was someone who ran their baseball team as a business, but did it well. She made changes for the better for her players, and she made white baseball literally pay respect to the Negro League and its players. She as was a a social and civil rights champion, organizing an effective boycott of Harlem merchants who refused to hire the local residents, running anti-lynching and pro war bonds campaigns at her ballpark. She loved baseball, to the point that she ran the team even on the field at times.

Baseball could not have selected a better woman to be the first in the Hall.

Show your team pride!

Sometimes You Just Don't Need Words