San Francisco's pigeons should be forewarned NOT to go anywhere near AT&T Park because the Giants will swing at anything that's white and moving. What a bunch of hackers!
Cliff Lee lost the opener because, by my count, he got over only one curve ball for a strike, but was wild IN the strike zone with his other pitches.
I still don't like Tim Lincecum's hair.
I predicted several 4-2 games. Let me point out that the score of the first game WAS 4-2 at one point in the 5th inning.
San Francisco has about the dullest uniform in baseball. Why don't they have a giant for a mascot? Are giants so hard to find? If so, hire a bunch of midgets to don the uniforms of the other teams and have them follow around a really big guy in a Giants' uniform; that ought to provide the proper perspective.
Why can't Edgar Renteria, the Giants' shortstop, keep his shirt tail in? It was already hanging out during the pre-game introductions.
Nolan Ryan wears the same expression while watching the game that all our dads did back when they watched us play in high school.
The commercials between innings have been lengthened, thus interrupting the rhythm of the game.
I'm doubling down on my prediction: I still say the Rangers in six. Won't be as easy as I first imagined, however.
I also predict that the Giants' offense will suddenly go cold.
Love the way Giants' fans don panda heads, fake beards, and orange and black!
If you are a fan of the original Hee Haw, then the name "Charlie Farquharson" might be familiar to you. He was the news anchor at radio KORN who mangled and tangled his words in ways that always left me laughing when I was a kid. Now that I'm an adult and watching reruns of Hee Haw on Sunday nights on RFDTV, I appreciate the talent it takes to get exactly the wrong word at exactly the right time. Charlie also had a penchanct for not quite understanding the meaning of the news copy he was reading. For example, upon reporting that Mrs. Jones had "tripulets; an event that occurs only once every 10,000 times," Charlie paused, looked into the camera, and said, "By gull, it's a wonder she ever gets to her housework."
Charlie was played by Canadian Don Harron, a talented actor, director, and composer who graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of Toronto. Recently, I felt inspired to write a short story featuring a character directly based on Charlie Farquharson and, fiction being so hard to place, I decided to send it to Don Harron, if I could find a way to contact him. I figured that if at least he read it I'd have something to show for my efforts.
Turns out that Mr. Harron, now 87, has a Facebook page. I befriended him and sent him a message that I'd like to send him a story inspired by Charlie. Much to my delight, he gave me his e-mail address and bid me forward the piece. I did, and the next day, I received an e-mail saying how much he "enjoyed [my] warm story as a tribute to Charlie Farquharson" and asking me where I found reruns of Hee Haw. He also told me that he would send me a book that he had written.
It arrived Saturday and was entitled, Olde Charlie Farquharson's Testament, a hilarious commentary on the Old Testament. ("At the start, there wasn't a thing. That'd be yer Void.")
I was touched by the fact that he agreed to read my story and that he sent me an inscribed book because I was a fan. More touching than the book itself, however, was the envelope in which it arrived. It was a manilla envelope, folded over and hand-addressed, and in the upper left-hand corner appeared Don Harron's return address on the kind of sticker that all of us receive free in the mail. The book didn't come from his agent or his publicist or his assistant; it came from him, from his home. One might say then that the gesture came from his heart.
Famous people are just regular folks. What is truly remarkable is a famous person who is comfortable, indeed, happy with that fact. Don Harron is a remarkable talent and a remarkable guy.
Before getting to my World Series prediction, I want to look back at my playoff predictions. That's because I did fairly well; if I had bombed on those predictions, we'd be skipping this part.
The Tampa/Texas series went just as I felt it would with the Rays having too much trouble with Texas' lefties to succeed. Likewise, the pitching of the Phillies and Giants was too much for the Reds and Braves, respectively, to overcome. I did have the Twins over the Yankees and I don't think even New York expected Minnesota to fold faster than a cheap tent in a hurricane. I'll never pick the Twins in the playoffs again until they prove to me--and themselves--that they can win a round.
I had Texas beating Minnesota, but they did beat the Yankees, a fact roundly celebrated in this household.
I thought Philadlephia would take San Francisco, but the Phillies offense went into the tank at the worst time and so the Phillies won't beat the Rangers in the Series as I predicted.
So, as to the World Series? Texas has a vastly superior and well-rounded offense and while San Francisco's pitching is superb, it hasn't faced many offenses such as those found in the American League. Furthermore, Texas' pitching isn't too shabby, either. I look for several games in the 4-2 range and I see Texas winning in six. What say you?
I recently reread Gordon Beard's Birds on the Wing, the story of the 1966 World Champion Orioles. Perhaps what struck me most was a section in the final chapter on the Orioles' minor league philosophy at that time. Harry Dalton, who was Director of Player Personnel was quoted as saying
Although the number one goal of any minor league system is to develop young players, it can't be done at the expense of winning and thinking that the job has been accomplished. Winning is a necessary part of development. Along with the skills, a plyaer needs an intangible attitude toward the playing of the game--a feeling of defeat when his team doesn't win. Our instructors and managers work hard to show the funn of winning. . . . We have a nucleus of kids in the high minors accustomed to winning pennants--who feel disappointed when the team loses, no matter what they have done personally.
Major league organizations no longer seem to agree with this philosophy. It appears to me that it would be easy for individuals to start defining success by whether they had good at-bats or not, rather than whether they won or not. Hence, you get this unproductive attitude that the starting pitcher "gave his team a chance" to win. Really? Christy Mathewson, Bob Feller, Sandy Koufax, Jim Palmer, and Jack Morris, et. al. thought it was their job to win. [Note the . after the phrase to win!] I understand the variables that are beyond a pitcher's control in order to actually record the W; nevertheless, do we really want to pay a guy $10 million a year to "try real hard"?
The question then becomes whether the mindset of "giving the team a chance" becomes self-defeating because the stress of having to win or conversely, the fear of losing has been removed. (Along with the starter after about 5 2/3rds innings.) Put another way, could Steve Carlton have won 27 games for a 1972 Phillies team that won only 59 if he had the "give the team a chance" mindset? One of the reasons we have all enjoyed watching the superb pitching in the playoffs so far is because there are a number of starters who seem to have the mindset that their job is to "win" all 9 innings. Indeed, the Orioles this past season had three complete games. We've already seen three (or is it more) in the post season.
Seems to me that winning is a skill that needs to be taught.
In the interest of bringing the best about baseball, life, and other stuff to my readers, I am moved to share an entry by a fellow blogger, Roch Kubatko of MASN.com. I say "fellow blogger" because technically we are, even though Roch does it for a living and I do it for not a living. We're Facebook friends, although I'm guessing that whereas I have Roch grouped under "Media," he probably has me grouped under "How did I get to be friends with these people?"
In any case, Roch wrote a wonderful piece, a poetic prose piece if you will, saluting Oriole Hall of Famer, Jim Palmer on his 65th birthday, which was October 15th, and recalling the fact that Palmer pitched the first game that Roch ever saw. The memory became deeply engrained in him; all baseball fans have a similar story. I invite you to share Roch's memory because it certainly touches on baseball and on life. It's entitled, Birthday Cakes.
The road of Life is marked by many milestones and, all too often, many tombstones. Barbara Billingsley's can now be added to the list of the later. Better known as June Cleaver to the millions of fans of Leave It to Beaver, Billingsley died Saturday. Perhaps what made her the iconic Mom to my generation was because she often spoke the sweetest words that a child in trouble could hear: "Ward, I think you're being too hard on the boys."
"Ward," of course is Ward Cleaver, June's husband played by Hugh Beaumont. Interestingly, of all the 277 entries that I have posted to this blog up to today, a very early one from February 16, 2009 marking what would have been Hugh Beaumont's 100th birthday remains Martha's favorite, and one of mine, too.
As I alluded to in that post, Leave It to Beaver was not about a simpler time, it was about a better time. Indeed, every week we were introduced to some very complicated times in Beaver's life. During one episode for example, he and his friends all agreed to stick out their tongues when the class picture was taken, but as it turned out, Beaver was the only one who carried through on the promise.
Leave It to Beaver dealt not with simple times, but with simple solutions; solutions still available to us, should we summon the courage to use them. Be honest. Be respectful. Do the right thing because it's the right thing to do. Look out for your brother. Look out for your children. Were we to embrace these solutions, it would not make the world any less complicated, but it would certainly make the world better. Barbara Billingsley helped teach all of us that through her portrayal of June.
When I watch Leave It to Beaver now, I identify still with Beaver because that child is still in me, but I also identify with Ward and June because I am now a parent. Ward often had a hard time explaining life to Wally and Beaver, because life is a hard thing to explain. After all, Beaver stayed true to his word and stuck out his tongue, but his friends forsook him and he was left to face the punishment by himself. How does a father explain that? Turns out, fathers can do a great deal when mothers have faith in them. It was always clear to me, even as a boy, that Ward wouldn't have been such a good father, if June weren't such a good wife and mother.
Here's to June Cleaver. Thanks, Barbara Billingsley for bringing her to life.
Of all the interesting plays and moments from the first round of the playoffs, the one that made me the happiest as a fan AND as a human being was Rick Ankiel's game-winning home run for the Braves in San Francisco in Game #2. For those who don't remember, Ankiel first appeared in a playoff game 10 years ago for the St. Louis Cardinals as a 21 year old hot-shot pitcher with one of the liveliest left arms you'll ever see. Going 11-7 in 2000, he had a K/IP ratio of 9.98, second only to Randy Johnson in the NL that year. Tony LaRussa tabbed him to start Game #1 against Atlanta in the Division Series, but in the third inning of that game he broke down. I don't mean that he became injured; I mean that right there before the nation's eyes, he lost his ability to throw a baseball. Ankiel walked 4 that inning and threw 5 wild pitches.
Starting Game #2 of the Championship Series, he was yanked in the first inning after 20 pitches, 5 of which sailed over his catcher's head. He appeared in the 7th inning of Game #5 and walked two batters and threw two more wild pitches. In 2001 he was quickly sent down to Memphis to work on his control, but his condition deteriorated rapidly as you can see in this home video. Watch if you want, but it's not for the faint of heart. The crowd yells derisively and, blurry as the video is, and shot through the screen to boot, Ankiel may be seen struggling to act normally, struggling to believe that the next pitch will get him back on track. He never got back on track. Not as a pitcher, at any rate, but he did transform himself into an outfielder and made it back to St. Louis as such in August of 2007.
Even now, few people realize that Ankiel's troubles have a name: Repetitive Sports Performance Problem. This occurs when a player suddenly can't do something that he's done thousands of times since childhood. It's one thing to make a bad throw or to have an erratic throwing arm. It is an entirely different thing to be helpless; and to be helpless when thousands of fans are depending on you is wretched. I remember feeling sick watching Rick Ankiel break down before the entire country and that is why I am so elated for him that he came back; came all the way back to turn in a perfect performance in at least one at-bat in the playoffs.
In spite of his pitching disaster in 2000, Rick Ankiel can now say that he is one of two players in the history of baseball to start a post-season game as a pitcher and also to hit a post-season game-winning home run. The other is Babe Ruth.
Is it me or have the 2010 MLB playoffs started to resemble a reunion of the cast of Hair? San Francisco not only features the long, straight locks of Tim Lincecum, it also features several relievers whose beards suggest that they plan on spending the off-season studying to become Hasidic rabbis. Closer Brian Wilson's beard is so dark and so thick that it looks fake. Of course, those four games against Atlanta couldn't get any hairier, so we'll see how San Francisco weaves its way through Philadelphia.
Tampa is finished after falling to Texas last night. That means that Matt Garza and his chin whiskers will be seen no more until spring. Garza's growth is best described as Amish with Attitude and is so pointed and menacing that it looks as if it might go off by accident.
Philly will be advancing thanks in part to wooly Jason Werth who looks, well, unkempt to be polite about it. He can swing the bat, but apparently, he can't operate a comb.
Then, of course, there's the ultimate in head spinning head appearance in the person of the Reds' Edinson Volquez. He not only has his hair braided, he also wears a doo rag under a cocked, flat-brimmed hat. The braids are one thing, but the hat obviously offended the Baseball Gods so dramatically, that they caused Cincinnati to lose to the Phillies. Of course, the Reds' anemic (and that's being generous) attack and their woeful defense didn't help their cause, but I'm sticking to my own theory.
No one scores worse in the hair department than the nation's Minnesota fans. After watching the Twins lose their 7th, 8th, and 9th straight playoff games to the Yankees, those poor people have pulled most of their hair out.
In any case, hair's to the . . . I mean here's to the Championship Series!
Having written about Williamsport's WWII Days and the USO dance that was part of the activities last year, I did not intend to write about it again this year. The dance once again proved to be so moving, however, that I cannot help but comment upon it. The band Jump Alley performed swing music for three hours inside the Springfield barn in Williamsport's Byron Memorial Park. Jesse and Becky joined us, and as Jesse noted, the inside of that barn looked like "a time capsule" with war posters, swing dancers, and G.I.s all about.
The atmosphere was indeed inspiring, but two moments stood out as truly moving. At one point, the band called for all the WWII veterans to assemble on the dance floor. Perhaps a dozen men came forward. They were instructed to face the crowd and not the band, as many in the crowdtook photos of this distinguised group. I turned to Becky and said, "Remember this moment so that you can tell your children that you saw a group of World War II vets; because by the time your kids are old enough to appreciate it, all these gentlemen will be gone." Indeed, I felt privileged just to be there and add my salute to the applause that they received. Jump Alley then told the vets that the next song was especially for them and they proceeded to play "This is the Army, Mr. Jones," which was greeted with smiles of recognition by the former G.I.s as they returned to their seats. Then, magic filled the barn.
The lady swing dancers, who were in period dress, spontaneously sought out those veterans and led them to the dance floor. For a minute or two, they were not old, nor even young, but ageless. And the old boys remembered all the moves on the dance floor, too. As they came off the floor, I overheard a nearby vet thank one of the dancers, who was perhaps in her 30s.
"It was my pleasure," she said, adding, "It was an honor."
For their last number, Jump Alley played "We'll Meet Again," a melancholy song with a happy tune that suggests that one must face an uncertain future with a certain degree of optimism--even if you have to fake the optimism. The song must have carried a profound meaning for those men when they were 18, 19, and 20 and wondering if they would ever meet their friends and sweethearts again. And now, in their 80s and 90s, these men must again contemplate that song that now applies in a different way to their lives. As the band played, the crowd spontaneously joined hands in a large circle and sang along.
In a small, small way, this recognition of our veterans was a continuation of the World War II story. I certainly felt that I had witnessed a moving historical event, even if it was one of those tiny anonymous events that will never find its way into any kind of history book. But I saw it and took a small part in it and I'm proud to have done so.
Please take 6 minutes and 30 seconds and view the video below. It begins with footage of Vera Lynn, the English singer who originally made "We'll Meet Again" famous, and concludes with a live performance on British Rememberance Day. Listen and give thanks to the boys who for 225 years and counting have fought on our behalf.
Feelin' not so good about my Minnesota/New York prediction.
Feelin' good about Roy Halladay's gem.
Feelin' not so good about Tim Lincecum's hair.
Feelin' good about the perfect swing Ian Kinsler used to crank out a long home run yesterday.
Feelin' not so good that the Yankees continue to get the benefit of every close call, especially Captain Lucky at shortstop.
Feelin' good about Joe Girardi and Mariano Rivera's Taco Bell commercial. That's one of the funniest I've seen in a long time.
Feelin' not so good about MLB's commercial that seems to actually regard the chilly nights on which games are played as a good thing. Fans are actually shown in parkas. Um, fellas, that's not a good way to promote the game.
Feelin' good that the weekend is here. Hope you are, too!
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