Bryce Harper, Getting Better By the Day

Feast your eyes on Bryce Harper's truck, courtesy of Deadspin:

GEORGE BAMBERGER

Craig Calcaterra over at Hardball Talk had a good idea today which I am going to completely rip off: in doing his weekly baseball power rankings, he decided that instead of explaining their rankings, he would just list his favorite players from each franchise. And that, my friends, is right up my alley.

Without further ado, my favorite players from each franchise:

Cardinals: Ozzie Smith

yankees: Don Mattingly - A tough pick as I despise the yankees, but I've always secretly loved Mattingly.

Phillies: Mike Schmidt - I won't lie; this is primarily because I had a sweet Starting Lineup action figure of him.

Rangers: Nolan Ryan - Probably says a lot about my age, but I remember Ryan as a Ranger.

red sox: Tim Wakefield - Not even remotely close to being anyone else.

Giants: Tim Lincecum/Will Clark - I stole Craig's idea on this one, but it's true: I loved Will Clark growing up because he was kinda a NL version of Cal Ripken (at least I thought so at the time. Probably because he was white and played hard with those flip-up sunglasses). But I have to say Tim the Enchanter may have overtaken him.

Brewers: George Bamberger - I know this makes no sense. I just wanted an excuse to post a picture of one of my most-loved baseball cards from my youth: ---------------------------------------->

Why can I recall that card so vividly when I can't remember what my first girlfriend looked like?

o well

Indians: Jim Thome/Kenny Lofton - I can cheat. This is my blog.

Diamondbacks: Justin Upton - First really tough choice as there aren't many options. Craig Counsell and his extremely nerdy team photos come in second.

Blue Jays: Roberto Alomar

Tigers: Cecil Fielder

Marlins: Charlie Hough - I love how this guy played until he was almost 50 but somehow managed to look even older than that while playing.

Rays: Casey Fossum - I have to respect any man who tries to make the Eephus Pitch work in the Major Leagues. And create a sweet nickname for it, as well. (The aptly-named Fossum Flop)

Mariners: Ichiro - With Jr. Griffey followed extremely close behind.

Reds: Chris Sabo - The RecSpecs say it all.

Angels: Jim Abbott - Because, well, he had one freaking arm and pitched a no-hitter. Let's see you do that.

Pirates: Andy Van Slyke - Most difficult pick yet. I literally have no memories of the Pirates in my youth, which is a same as that was probably the only time in my life that they have been good.

Rockies: Andres Gallaraga - The Big Cat wins it with an awesome nickname.

Mets: Mookie Wilson - My next door neighbor as a kid was an older guy who collected baseball cards. One day he asked me who my favorite player was, and for reasons that are still unclear to me, I said Mookie Wilson. From there forward, every Mookie Wilson double he ever got was given to me. I still have no idea why I said that, because even then I liked Darryl Strawberry and Gary Carter more. But give a Mookie his due.

Dodgers: Orel Herschiser - Incredible for like 3 seasons and blah for the rest. Always looked like a nerd on the hill with those glasses. I loved that.

White Sox: Frank Thomas

Athletics: Dennis Eckersley - Simply because of my penchant for weird pitchers who are successful. Rickey is very, very close behind.

Orioles: Cal Ripken, Jr. - My hero, a gentleman, and a legend.

Nationals/Expos: Tim Raines - But if you're pressing me to come up with a National, Mike Morse because he is seriously helping my fantasy team this year.

Padres: Tony Gwynn

Royals: George Brett

Cubs: Ryne Sandberg - Again, an awesome nickname wins it for Ryhno.

Astros: ? - Can I say Nolan Ryan again?

Twins: Kirby Puckett - And I can damn well guarantee you that 95% of 29 year-old males would say the same thing.

Turns out most of my favorite players were from my youth, and players that I had either a good baseball card or an action figure of. Life was tough before SportsCenter and MLB.TV. Who are your favorite players?

O's Notes, 4.4

4/4/2011

Orioles 5 (4-0), Tigers 1 (1-3)

Oriole Park @ Camden Yards

SP: Jake Arrieta

Sorry for the lack of O's Notes for the first 3 games of the year. Truth is, I was out of town for my bachelor party this weekend and lacked both the sports nerdiness and the sobriety to watch a baseball game in the casinos, so I figured I would be better off to wait until I had seen a full game before running my mouth about it.

Great win on an absolutely gorgeous Opening Day. The middle innings were shaky with some shoddy defense and poor hitting, but B-Rob's three-run homer put us on top to stay. Relief was great and Wieters went 2-3 with a walk. What's not to like?

Notes:

- Markakis looks absolutely locked in and is really driving the ball.

- Vlad is just about the exact opposite of Nick at this point. He looks terrible at the plate, chasing everything and displaying very little patience.

- Arrieta, despite the good result, still needs to work on his control and putting batters away. It seemed like he got in a ton of 0-2 counts that ended up as walks or hits. Starts like this don't often end up like this - the Tigers were hitting it right at our fielders, and hard.

- Adam Jones looks like he's pressing badly - and three fly balls and a strikeout attest to that.

- Derrick Lee looks awesome at first base - very solid.

I know the 4-0 start won't last, but it is really exciting to see so many fans enjoying Orioles baseball. It really does seem like we've turned a corner.

Tim gets the Munchies

Every time I think Tim Lincecum can't get any more awesome, he somehow goes out there and shows me that, YES HE CAN. According to MLB.com beat writer extraordinaire (I'm sure) John Schlegel, "Giants Ace Tim Lincecum is Chewing up Hitters, Food at a Hefty Pace" (yuk yuk yuk).

The two cool points: apparently Tim has topped out at a bulky 168 lbs., and his typical order from In and Out Burger (his favorite eatery after a Spring Training start) is as follows:

Three double-doubles, two orders of fries and a half-chocolate, half-strawberry shake.

When questioned about the nutritional validity of that diet, Tim responds, "That's probably not the best form of nutrients but I've always kind of just eaten what I've wanted to and worried about it later...Nothing's affected me now, so I'll stick to it."

Which is, of course, exactly the kind of thing that a 26-year old stoner says. Go get 'em, Tim!

The Best Way to Start Your Week: Baseball Rap!

Sometimes, I just don't know what to say. The long-time reader of my blog will remember when I posted last year about Scott Stapp writing a 'song' about the Florida Marlins. When I showed it to a number of my friends, many of them made the comment that they thought it was a joke or a well-done parody of some kind. I knew better - it was so perfectly Scott Stapp and so perfectly bad that it had to be real.

And then something like this comes along:

What is that? What the fuck is that?

I mean - that has to be a joke, right? No one would rap that poorly about a baseball team with as short a history and as poor a fan base as the Florida (soon to be Miami) Marlins and make a video of it in real life, right? Why would anyone produce this video? Who is this guy? And my biggest question - why do the Florida Marlins have not one, but TWO completely retarded and poorly made, cliche-ridden songs made about them?

My guess is that the Marlins must have some twenty-something ironic hipster Public Relations guy who hires these no-talent assclowns to produce these crappy videos so that he can post them on YouTube under the guise of being a 'promotional video' when in reality he's just laughing his ass off confusing the hell out of guys like me.

(kudos to Kresh on the video find)

It Takes Two

My boy Ryan 'Heartbreaker' Adams continued his solid Spring Training for the Orioles last night, crushing a two-run homer off Pirates' closer Joel Hanrahan. He did not Go Easy, rather he hit a Firecracker that rung Hanrahan's Answering Bell.

I think it's time to start the Ryan Adams watch - I'll try to keep his stats updated as we go through the season. He'll probably spend most of the year at AAA, so this will be a labor of love. Just remember Love is Hell.

Steroids - Simple, Right?

One of the things that I both love and hate about the world is that nothing is ever as simple or as complex as it seems. Nothing is black and white. Personalities, leaders, and politicians love to reduce issues to black and white, as they become much easier to deal with at that level, but simply casting aside facts or ignoring findings in order to reach a conclusion is not a stance that enhances the human condition - it just get things done.

Steroids are a perfect example. Journalists and talking heads love to throw down a hard line about steroids - immediately scapegoating anyone unlucky enough to have been associated with them. But it's stories like this that make it impossible for me to take such a stance.

Basically, the story makes the case that people (including athletes) have been known to test positive for the steroid clanbuterol after eating beef from cows that have been injected with the substance. This is a fairly common practice in places like China, Mexico, and most of South America. So maybe some of the Latin players who have tested positive in the past actually didn't knowingly inject steroids. Really.

Sure, the guy probably actually did take steroids. But it's stories like this that have to at least put the seed of some doubt in any rational head. It wouldn't be fair to punish a player who tested positive if they had a false positive from eating the wrong steak. Would it?

I'm sure some people will say that yes, it is fair. You have to draw the line somewhere, and the person that tested positive is on the wrong side. That's not a line I'm going to be responsible for drawing.

Blogging for the Man

So I've been told that I'm not blogging enough. That I should get out there and blog. That I should blog it 110%. That my blogging to this point has been underwhelming. Well, I say to you, Mr. McBlogNaySayerSmith, that blogging ain't easy. I mean, I have to sit down, open up my computer, think thoughts with my mind, and type them into the computer. And don't get me started on the whole logging in thing. Sometimes it actually makes me type in my username.

So just to show everyone that I'm still alive and blogging, here's my list of interesting things about today, Friday, April 16, 2010 (AD).

1. I ate two Thin Mints for breakfast today.

2. I also ate a fiber bar later on.

3. I will eat the Chicken Tikka Masala we made last night for lunch.

4. And possibly another Thin Mint.

5. I wanted to ride my scooter to work today, but the Weather Channel said it was going to storm and that a 'serious potential for wildfires' exists in the area today. No scooter for me, thank you.

6. I'm going to play golf tomorrow morning, and will probably have to contend with ground that is soaked from the storms today, and 30-35mph winds. And probably wildfires.

7. In Orioles news, they lost last night to the Oakland Athletics, 6-2. Felix Pie, astonishingly enough our most productive hitter these days, left the game in the 7th inning with a sore shoulder. Also, Nick Markakis' head fell off and Peter Angelos sold the team to the Yankees. Plans to demolish Camden Yards are already underway. And Cal Ripken came out and said he never liked playing for Baltimore anyway. And Sidney Ponson is still alive.

8. I mean seriously, I haven't experienced a start to a baseball season that has ever been quite this depressing. And especially after all the talk this offseason about how good we were going to be - I actually had started drinking some of the Kool-Aid myself. These guys look like they absolutely don't care and don't want to be faced with the arduous task of playing baseball for a living. Right now, in April, they already look the way we are accustomed to seeing them play in August-September. It's going to be a long year.

Alright, that's enough. You know I'm still alive and kicking. I'm heading back out to Montana and Wyoming on Sunday, so you can probably expect some interesting stuff to happen out there that is worth blogging about. Plus, I am writing a travelogue of sorts about our recent trip to England and Scotland, and I suppose I'll put that up here in the coming weeks. Unless I have to remember my username and password.

Roger Clemens Writes a Book

I'm not even going to pretend that I can write anything this funny, but Jon Bois from Progressive Boink can, and I can certainly link to it in a vain attempt to associate myself with it:

Roger Clemens wants to write a book, just like Jose Canseco's. Here's Chapter 5 (unedited, of course):

CHAPTER 5: What Hath God Wraught???

Roger Clemens was a housewholed name. Even 1-day-old babies across the Fruited Plain, rattling they're baby toys and crapping themselfs, knew of the great "Rocketman" (Roger Clemens). He was a man who Lifted the Spirits of the Nation uponst his furrow'd shoulders and bench pressed it into Heaven. When he retires, even the most leather-jacketed of men will weep.

He stood there on the pitcher's mount. He stared up at the stands. Announced attendance: a freaking buttload. Time stood still and it did that Ken Burns thing where some one play's a piano and clumsy-footed children run the bases in slow-mow. "Time to Genuflect," remarked Roger.

He look't at the baseball he held in his artisan, meaty hands. Fact: a baseball is exactly 5 inches in diameter. Fact: a baseball is comprosed of exactly 5,000 stitches. But it was not the maths of the Modern Age that juxtaposed Roger at this particular time. Rather: "how am I going to strike out this Bozo?"

The Bozo in question was Mike Piazza. Mike Piazza was an stupid nerd whom was loathed by all. He stood in the batting circle, one abreast, and turn'd to face the fans. He did that thing where you put you're thumb on you're nose and wiggle around you're other fingers! The fans where Enraged. "Nyah!" he taunted. "Nyahhhhh!" Also, one time he threw rocks at Maya Angelou. Our nation's freaking Poet Larroquette. Only God knows why. What a butt head.

Anyway, but, however, I Digress. Piazza walked up to the batter's box, as though a dumb guy walking up to the batter's box. "Oh crap," thought Roger. "This guy is going to call his shot." Sure enough. Piazza cupp'd his hands and bellow'd to the Heavens, "SHOT!" The towns people trembled, but; Roger didn't tremble. Trembling is for Moral Midgets.

I went through the Signs with my catcher. "Do you think it was unrealistic that the aliens could die if you poured water on them," he said. "Yes," I said. (This part of the story is just a joke [not real]).

Mike Piazza haunch'd over and awaited for the pitch. Roger leveraged his buttocks and through the baseball.

[NOTE: If this book gets made into a movie, make this part go into slow motion and play "Jeremy" by Pearl Jam. Thanks, Rog]

"STRIKE ONE," scuttled the Umpire. To more strikes. That's all Roger needed. He was done clowning around. He threw another fast ball, inside and away. It nailed the middle corner with the beautiful craftsmanship of an agile carpentress. Strike two.

Everyone stood up and cheer'd a heavenly chorus. The crowd was extemporaneous. Mike Piazza expected a fastball; but, Roger threw an even faster fastball. Swing and a Mrs. And it was strike three. The catcher said, "Crap, my freaking hand hurts!" Piazza said, "I'll get you next time, Clemens!" Then a bird pooped on his head. Clemens was carted aboudst the field in a Horse Driven Chariot. He had won the game. He had faced down Mike Piazza and sent him to Kingdom Kong. [NOTE: is it Kingdom Come or Kingdom Kong? Looked it up on AltaVista, results inconclusive.]

Then Brian McNamee came on the field and said a bunch of stupid bull pucky. Then Skylab fell on him.


CHAPTER 6: The Sound and the Furious

Love it.

Where Major League Baseball Pays Attention to Me (finally)

So I woke up this morning, as I often do, to not only the sound of my cat crying right above my face, but thinking of the Orioles and their prospects for success in the future. As everyone knows, Baltimore plays in the toughest division in baseball, the AL East, where not only the red sox and yankees hold sway, but which now also features a much-improved Toronto team and a Tampa Bay team that went to the World Series last year.

I'll be the first to tell you: tough shit. It is what it is. As much as I hate the fact that we play in a division wherein we could win 90 games and still come in third place, I don't mind the challenge, and at least we can never say we won the division by default, like San Diego did in 2005 (with a .502 winning percentage). Plus, as bad as we might be, we will still pack Camden Yards (and downtown Baltimore) with idiots with disposable incomes every time the red sox and yankees come to town.

Still, it frustrates me that there will likely be no let-up in the determinable future. Unless the NY somehow stops being the most recognizable baseball franchise in the world and the symbol of Americana for many foreigners (not likely), or they for some reason decide to stop spending tons of money on good baseball players (not likely), they will be good forever. Unless Boston somehow stops hiring smart people like Bill James and Theo Epstein and running their franchise like a smart version of the yankees (not likely), they will be good forever.

So the best chance for Baltimore is to do something like Tampa Bay did last year: wait until your prospects that you have been stockpiling for years come to fruition, make a couple of smart trades to fill gaps, get extremely lucky, and hope that Boston and NY have injury problems to have a shot at it for one year. After that, everyone will be gunning for you and you won't have any money left anyway, so good luck to you. That sound is my heart breaking.

Anyway, I woke up this morning thinking about how hopeless it is to be an O's fan and also how cool it could be if there was a divisional re-alignment that went North, Central, and South instead of East, Central, and West. I figure it would work out like this:

AL North:
Boston
Toronto
Detroit
Minnesota
Seattle

AL Central:
New York
Baltimore
Chicago
Cleveland
Oakland

AL South:
Tampa Bay
Kansas City
Texas
LA Angels of wtf

How cool is that? Right now (assuming the current schedule) the standings would look like this:

AL North:

BOS     33  24 .579

TOR     33  27 .550  

DET     31  26 .544

SEA     28  29 .491

MIN     28  31 .475

AL Central:

NYA     34  23 .596

CHA     27  31 .466

OAK     26  30 .464 

CLE     25  34 .424

BAL     24  33 .421 

AL South:

TEX     33  24 .579

LAA     28  27 .509

TB      29  30 .492

KC      24  32 .429

That AL North is shaping up to be a pretty hot race down the stretch.  The AL Central is all but locked up, but the AL South
could still go a bunch of different ways.

Okay, so Baltimore would still have no chance this year, but that's not the point.  I would have to think that these divisions would be more competitive. 

That took longer to do than I thought it would.  I'll do the NL tomorrow.  NIN tonight!!!!

Arrre Youuuuu Readddyyyyyy

One of the things that I always thought would be the coolest part of being a Major League baseball player when I was a kid was the chance to pick out your very own walk-up theme song. You know, the song that plays over the PA when you come up to bat. (This goes a long way to explain my strange relationship with baseball and other professional sports. Other things I think would be great perks to being a Major Leaguer: picking your own number, seeing yourself in a video game, getting to wear throwback jerseys, etc.)

I didn't realize until I met a friend at work who was into the same stupid aspects of baseball that I was, and we had multiple lengthy discussions about not only what our choices of walk-up music would be, but why certain Major League players picked the songs they did. The failing of our logic, however, is that Major Leaguers, for the most part, are musical idiots and don't put 1/16th of the effort into picking a song out that we would.

Whereas I would pick a song like "The Promised Land" by Springsteen or the cool rocking part of "Thru and Thru" by the Rolling Stones due to cool lyrics and music, it turns out that real ballplayers pick songs for some of the following reasons:

"A friend of mine on the [St. Louis] Cardinals picked it out for me. I like that it doesn't have words."

"I really don't care. As long as it rocks, that's fine."

"It needs a good beat. Something that doesn't put you to sleep."

"Whatever they want to play. It doesn't make a different [sic] to me."

Guys. C'mon! You are professional ball players! Take delight in getting to be involved in the thrilling minutiae that idiots like me would give their right pinkie to think about! At least pick a song you like or pretend to give a shit about. Because whether or not you care, there will always be nerds like my friend and I who will over-analyze why you picked a song called "Going Down".

Mister Anderson...

Turns out Brady Anderson is still alive~! Who knew, right? Or, as privatedialect puts it:

I find it laughable that Brady Anderson is writing articles that are anything but omissions of immense steroid use and / or accusatory blogs on how the Twilight vampires stole his look.

Actually I am just kidding. That was a pretty well written article for a retired muscle head. He brings up some very, very, valid points. I think that there are three main reasons why Angelos has such a bad rap with Baltimore.

1. People hate losing ... and after years and years of doing so it seems easy to blame the one constant.

2. People are f***ing sheep. One idiot says, " F*** Angelos " and everyone else is ready to follow.

3. He is ugly. I mean not to sound superficial but people are. And man is he ugly. Probably has really , really , bad breath too.

Seriously, though, I think ol' Sideburns makes some very good points. Peter Angelos, while certainly not the best owner in the world, has been demonized, and I believe extremely unjustly so over the last couple of years. Sure, when Mike Flanagan and Jim Duquette and all the rest of the bumbling fools who have been our GMs over the last 10 years were in charge, Angelos may have poked his head in one or two too many trades or free-agent deals.

But since Andy MacPhail has taken over, Angelos has really stepped out of the spotlight and let the people who know baseball run the show. And in the meantime, he has spent the money when he has had to. He locked up fan favorites and building blocks Nick Markakis and Brian Roberts, returned 'Baltimore' to the road jerseys, and has kept ticket prices relatively low and hasn't sold the naming rights to the best stadium in baseball (yet).

So lay off the ugly old toad.

The Man-Child Cometh

Matt Wieters is coming. Friday. Here to usher in a new realm of peace, prosperity, and bobbleheads to Baltimore. Or, as Shysterball puts it:

The smallest crowd in the history of Camden Yards showed up to watch the Blue Jays fall further into the abyss. The crowds will be larger this weekend, however, as Matt Wieters will be called up to make his Major League debut. Prediction: Mere anarchy will be loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence will be drowned. The best will lack all conviction, while the worst will be full of passionate intensity.

Indeed.

Designated for Assignment, Part III: Harrisburg Senators

Ah, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Gateway to the...umm...well...it's kinda near Hersheypark, I guess. While Harrisburg has many admirable qualities, proximity to other major metropolitan areas is not necessarily one of them. It's about an hour and a half away from Baltimore, and probably about 3 hours from both Pittsburgh and Philadelphia. Everywhere else is pretty much inaccessible...kinda like being in Little Rock, Arkansas: Well, I'm kinda near Memphis...*sigh*...or I guess I could go to Tulsa...*sigh*...oh, nm.

Anyway, Harrisburg just happened to be the next stop on our tour of minor league ballparks. It became the next stop pretty much by default: I had planned on going to Salisbury, MD, but we figured traffic would be absolutely horrible due to the Memorial Day weekend, and the Harrisburg Senators just happened to be playing the Bowie Baysox (AA affiliate of the Orioles)!

Sweet, I'll get to see one of our top pitching prospects: Jake Arrieta!

Oh, wait. He pitches on Friday. I get to see Bobby Livingston. That's...almost as good...*sigh*.

Turns out he pitched a pretty good game, but enough about that - let's get to what everybody flocks to my blog to read about: what kind of crazy crap the Senators have outside their ballpark!

An old bridge!



Skeeball!



Batting Cages!


Psychedelic Dentists!



An old red shed that is used as a ticket box office!


Batting Cages!

Seriously, I have to hand it to the Senators: they give you some awesome extra-curricular activities to play with. There's a whole arcade area that is outside of the stadium that has a collection of old-school stand-up video games, try-to-get-the-claw-to-grab-the-toy games, skeeball lanes, and all other kinds of token-operated fun. None of these diversions holds a candle to the batting cages, however, which are available to anyone (12 pitches for a buck) and come in baseball and softball versions with speeds from 35 - 90mph. Yours truly stepped in the 55mph cage and promptly made a fool of himself. I blame the fact that I was wearing sandals, my loose and floppy batting helmet, and the fact that I suck at baseball.



The stadium itself is an interesting design - there are assigned seats behind home plate and along the third and first base lines, but all of the rest of the seating is general admission bleacher seating. And there's a lot of it. What is weird is that in front of the bleacher seats, which go all the way to ground level, is the concourse where everyone walks to get food/play on the Senators Slide/get autographs from the poor sonovabitch who got stationed in the autograph booth that day, and then in front of the concourse is another section of assigned seating. It's not unlike a moat of people. We liked sitting in the front area as it kept us well away from the riff-raff and common folk of Central PA.




We were lucky enough to attend during "Superhero Day", which basically consisted of the cheer/energy/lame-o squad dressing up in ridiculous superhero costumes and the scoreboard operators blasting old animated clips of 60's-era superhero cartoons in between innings. And also Diego, from the Nickelodeon show. I think the most bizarre event of the evening occurred when the Senators switched pitchers and the scoreboard operators took that opportunity to play a clip from the Diego show, which consisted of a small leopard singing a cheery song about how much bigger and stronger he was getting every day. The players looked a tad on the bewildered side.

They also are strongly in the running for most bizarre/awesome inter-inning gimmick: a human hamster race!



did i mention they had batting cages

I have to say that I really, really enjoyed Harrisburg's stadium, except for the fact that they currently name the park after a bank, and are planning on changing the name to another bank - Metro Bank Field or some such B.S.. They are in the process of renovating it, and it should be really great after they get done, but so far I have to say that with it's combination of small-park feel, extra-curricular activities, great scoreboards, separated 'elite' seating sections, and the fact that you can get a tall draft of Yuengling, I'm liking Harrisburg the most out of all the stadiums we've been to so far.

Designated for Assignment, Part I: York Revolution

Sorry for the wait, ladies and gentlemen – I know you have all been sitting on my page hitting refresh for the last weekend waiting for my update. Well, wait no longer.

My girlfriend and I began our journey through the minor and independent league baseball stadiums in the DelMarVa region last Friday with a trip up to lovely York, PA. York is home to the Atlantic League York Revolution, an independent league team that has been around for oh, about two years. I was interested in this game particularly to see the level of play that is in the independent leagues due to the number of ex-major leaguers that choose (or have no choice but) to play in them. Guys like Dewan Brazelton, Hideki Irabu, Oil Can Boyd, Tony Batista, Shawn Chacone, Carl Everett…well, you get the idea. Anyway, it seems like a really interesting mix of guys you have never heard of and will never hear of and crazy flame-outs from the bigs. What more can you ask for to start a baseball road trip?

Well, I can tell you that the whole experience absolutely exceeded my expectations. The stadium was beautiful, the seats were great (and cheap), we got to see Von Hayes, and there was a monkey.

After work on Friday we headed up 83 to York despite a weather report that showed intermittent thunderstorms all night long. There was terrible traffic almost the entire way, but we got into York in plenty of time and set to work following the directions from Google maps. Well, it turns out that those directions were wrong – they led us to a warehouse district downtown whichwas pretty…umm…interesting, but not interesting enough to have a ballpark nearby. So I loaded up the ol’ iPhone and searched for “Sovereign Bank Stadium” and it gave us another address in NW York that was near some parks. Looked good to me, and we were off.

Well, all there was at that location was, well, parks. No ballpark, and nothing that looked like or indicated that there was a ballpark in the immediate vicinity. So Google has now given us two bum locations. How hard is it to point us to a professional league baseball stadium? How many of these things are there in York? So we went straight to the source, which is probably what we should have done in the first place, and checked the Revolution’s website, which told us that the stadium was exactly nowhere near either of the two locations we were told. Weird, but we assumed that they would know where their own ballpark was, so we took their word for it.

Turns out they were right, and we found parking in an abandoned lot across some very forbidding railroad tracks. We missed the first pitch, but it turns out we got to our seats at the right time, because almost as soon as we sat down, the batter hit a foul ball that nearly hit the fat lady that was sitting next to us. I was too disoriented - no, uncoordinated - to catch it myself, but I came damn close.

Sovereign Bank Stadium itself was a very pretty stadium – just built in 2007. There is a huge green wall in left field, which they call the “Arch Nemesis” – which only makes kinda sense because it is near Arch Street…but I still think it’s kinda a lame name. There was this old guy in the stands next to us who led what must have been the Revolution’s version of the Oriole cheer: he would stand up and yell “HIT THE WALL”.

Really, that was it…at first I thought he was saying, “HIT THE BALL”, which was a nice sentiment. You know, nothing too complicated for these independent league players, just HIT THE BALL. But no, he was telling them to HIT THE WALL, which is still a bit baffling but easier to say than HIT IT OVER THE WALL OR IMMEDIATELY TO THE RIGHT OF IT AND IN THE AIR.

The York Revolution themselves were a group of malcontents and thugs, consisting of guys named Brad and Tony who refused to shave off their goatees and bend the brim of their caps more than 2 degrees off straight across. I guarantee that if you were to see these guys in a bar you would immediately hate them, but these are probably the kind of guys who hang out at the Green Turtle to pick up Towson chicks, so you (hopefully) won’t run into them.

What made the team (and trip) worth it was the inimitable leadership of one Chris Hoiles – yes, that Chris Hoiles. As far as unemotional managers go, he was definitely one of the most unemotionalist. Basically he leaned against the rail for a bunch of innings, occasionally consulting with Tippy Martinez (the pitching coach, and yes, THAT Tippy Martinez) and then walking unemotionally out to the mound to switch pitchers. I don’t think that he said one word to any of his players or anyone other than Tippy Martinez the entire game. But like I said, the team was a bunch of losers, so I can’t say I blame him. He did have a nice-looking watch, however.

HIT THE WALL

Of course the highlight of any minor league baseball game is the stuff that goes on between the innings. You know, the non-baseball stuff. The Revolution, I will not hesitate to say, have this facet of the game down pat. They feature, in no particular order:

- A man firing a cannon

- Not one, but two mascots, Reggie and Outfield

- An “Energy” team (yes, that was really their name – basically the interns who thought it would be cool to intern for a baseball team for the summer. Now they’re dancing a hoedown on top of a dugout whilst wearing a policeman hat)

- A man running around in a gigantic, blow-up monkey balloon

- Free Frisbees and t-shirts

- A “knighting” ceremony wherein the PA announcer announces in the worst British accent I have ever heard that one lucky kid gets to be Sir _____ for the night and everyone has to obey him. HAIL SIR _______

- HIT THE WALL

Oh, and I forgot to mention the best part: the fruit race! Here, to the delight of everyone, including me, they trotted out three small kids to run around the bases from first to home. That would probably be comical enough, but then they dressed them up in ridiculously oversized fruit costumes – hilarity ensues. Probably the highlight of the evening.

Plus, add in one comically oversized first base coach, and you have yourself an independent league ballgame.

It was a great time. I bought a York Revolution fitted cap – I think I’ll probably do that for each game I go to – and my girlfriend got herself a Chris Hoiles Revolution t-shirt.

* Note the novelty batting helmet ice cream cup. Classic.

So we’re off to a great start. You stay classy, York PA.

Next Up: HIT THE WALL The Frederick Keys @ Harry Grove Stadium

the Minor League Experiment

Well, I have a new summer project: I'm going to visit all of the minor league baseball stadiums in a drivable radius around Baltimore. Why minor league stadiums, you ask? Well, they're cheap, and so am I.

It's actually kinda sad how few minor league stadiums that I've been to considering how many are in the state of Maryland alone. I'm pretty sure I've only been to Harry Grove (heh) Stadium in Frederick once and I pretty much spent my childhood at Municipal Stadium in Hagerstown. But that's it - I have to go see Bowie, and Delmarva, and Aberdeen, and Waldorf just to get current on the stadiums in Maryland. Plus there's a few in Southern PA, Delaware, and West Virginny. So it will be a busy summer - I plan on going to one every weekend.

As of this writing, my wonderful girlfriend is acting like she's excited about the whole thing. I'll give her credit for that. Once we have to start driving 5 hours to see a shitty short-season A-ball team in southern WV though...well we'll see where we are.

But who wouldn't be excited about our first game: the York Revolution's home opener next Friday! Fireworks! Cheap seats! Fat men dancing in between innings! York PA! It's going to be great, I guarantee it. And the best part - we're sitting in the third row from the field on the first base side. Price: $10.

So I'll try to update the ol' blog when I get back from these trips with some pictures and info about the stadium and our fun-filled getaways. Something to look forward to. Oh, that and midgets in the batters box.

...And That Happened

I think that one of the things that makes baseball hard to follow for people that aren't really into it is the fact that so much stuff happens on every single night throughout the 162-game season. A typical weekday night might have as many as 10-12 games going on, and even skimming the headlines at ESPN you'll probably miss a thing or two along the way. And the thing is, absolutely cool stuff happens every single night in the major leagues.

I can't believe no one else out there does anything quite like this, but I'm really glad that Craig Calcaterra does. Every day, he updates his blog with a post called "And That Happened", which provides the final score, a quick comment, and a link to each game that was played the day before. It's simple, funny, and a ridiculously easy way to make people think that you follow baseball religiously. Check it out.

Opening Day

What do you mean nobody else cares?

Yessir, Opening Day was yesterday, and what an Opening Day it was. The Orioles won, 10-5, over an especially ass-hat-ish Yankees lineup that included Mr. and Mrs. Paycheck, C.C. Sabathia and Mark Texiera. The mood was great at the yard, and not even a crappy sound system (not installed by my company) nor a torrental downpour could ruin the day.

.........

Well, I had a whole bunch of cool pictures that I was going to crop and resize and tell you all about, but it appears as though my computer has deleted them. This is exactly why I never do this shit. There was a guy with a Mark McLemore jersey! Mark McLemore! Now no one will ever believe me...damn it.

It has Sprung

Baseball is back!

Well, kinda. The Braves played the Phillies last night and whooped up on them courtesy of a bunch of homeruns off of poor ol' Brett Myers. Its not completely Brett's fault, though...I mean, look at those eyebrows. That's got to make it pretty difficult to pitch.

Anyway, I'm happy because my wonderful girlfriend got us two tickets to Opening Day today, and despite the fact that the forecast calls for "thunderstorms, strong winds, hail, and a plague of locusts" I'll actually be watching live Orioles baseball today. Hopefully.

I'm bringing my batteries to chuck at Mark Texiera's head, though it would be quite the toss I would have to make to hit him from our seats. But when there's a will, there's a way.

Goh Oh's!

Moooose

I love this picture. I also love Mike Mussina. Like most Orioles fans my age, I absolutely loved him, then I hated him, and now I've pretty much grown to love him again.

I feel particularly connected to Mussina in that he was the first ballplayer that I can remember actually tracking as he came through the minors. I saw him pitch at Municipal Stadium when he played for the Hagerstown Suns. I tried to get his autograph, but I missed the chance. I remember very distinctly watching his major league debut on TV. I'm told by Baseball-Reference.com that he won 7-3 in 8 innings of work over Scott Erikson and the Twins. In my mind, he threw a no-hitter against the AL All-Stars, but whatever.

So I felt as though I had a justifyable claim on Mike. He was pitching for me. He was young, cool, he kicked ass, he played for the Orioles, my team, and I felt like I was the only one who knew or cared about him. Which was entirely possible, at least in my general vicinity, as I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania that really didn't give a crap about the Orioles at all.

I watched Mike pitch along side Gregg Olsen, Fernando Venezuela, Alan Mills, Ben McDonald, Todd Frowirth, Curt Schilling, and play along side Cal, Mike Deveroux, Brady Anderson, Harold Baines, Rafael Palmeiro, and all the rest of the Orioles throughout the heyday of my baseball-watching and playing youth. He was absolutely my favorite pitcher, and probably my second-favorite player in all of baseball.

So when he was picked up by the Yankees, I was obviously disappointed. And saddened. And a little bit hurt. But at that time, I had kinda grown away from baseball anyway. I kept track of the O's by seeing their record in the paper or whatever, but I really had grown pretty disillusioned with the sport, and I didn't really care about it any more. Cal was almost done, Brady had his steroid year and fell off the table, Jose Canseco was playing for Tampa Bay, there was a team in Tampa Bay, the Yankees won everything every year, and now my favorite player, the one guy I still actually gave a shit about, had done the unthinkable - he had become a traitor and forsaken his ties to the good people of Baltimore and gone where the money was. Fucking New York.

I remember officially dismissing baseball as soon as I found out that he had left. That was the final straw. I was going to college, my life was changing, and I didn't need that kind of bullshit anymore. Baseball was kid's stuff, anyway.

So life and baseball went on. Moose kept on pitching in his inimitable silent and crossword puzzle-completing fashion, I ironically moved to Baltimore to go to school, and I didn't think twice about baseball. For a while.

I'm not sure what it was in me that clicked, exactly, but in 2004, all of the sudden I was absolutely unapologetically head-over-heels back in love with baseball. I read every single book I could get my hands on, I played fantasy baseball, I played baseball simulations, I thought about statistics and new analysis techniques that I never knew existed in my younger days, and pretty much just immersed myself back into baseball. It helped that the first half of the summer of 2005, the Orioles had a great start and were actually looking like a real team...that didn't last long, but I was back in the fold. I'm so glad that I did - it gives me something to do when I'm at work, and something to look forward to when spring rolls around.

And so I think that its fitting that as my love for baseball has been renewed, my admiration for Mike Mussina as he is retiring has also been renewed. He is the first baseball player that I can remember fully tracking the entire arc of his career - from minors to retirement. He has been a class-act all of the way, and has held his own in an era that saw both the highest offensive output in the history of baseball and at least 5 for-sure hall-of-fame pitchers (Clemens, Johnson, Maddux, Glavine, Pedro). In another era, he may have been seen as one of the best in baseball. He stood tall amongst giants of ability and ego. He does crossword puzzles. He's a pretty cool guy.

So thanks, Mike, for hanging in there even when I didn't give a shit about baseball. Thanks for not (probably) taking steroids. Thanks for having a cool signature pitch. Thanks for hanging with Baltimore for as long as you could and not complaining, even though Albert Belle was probably a total jackass. Thanks for learning command and control after you had lost your velocity. I'm sorry I hated you for pitching for the Yankees. Secretly, I'm pretty glad you never won a World Series with them.

And good luck with that whole Hall of Fame thing. You've got my vote.