An Open Letter to God, the Baseball Fan

Dear God,

I know your preferred method of correspondence is prayer, but let’s face it, I’m at work and I’ll get more than a few strange looks kneeling behind my desk. I am not writing you out of desperation…yet. But I want you to know that there are two sides to everything and it’s possible that you may have not yet realized the good in the pinstriped half of the National League Divisional Series.

Take 2 Corinthians as an example. Sure, Paul used his “A” Material in 1 Corinthians (“without love, I am nothing” is some inspirational stuff, Lord – nice assist on that one), but that doesn’t mean that 2 Corinthians is no better than a cut-rate sequel written by a man who got overly excited about making the Book. There’s still valuable scripture in there.

I read an article that came out last summer about the Colorado Rockies. It was in the USA Today, and while I do not know if their circulation extends beyond the Pearly Gates, but I tell ya, those full color picto-charts have their appeal. I’ve linked it here, but I doubt God uses a mouse to click through get his information. Anyway, the story is thus: the Rockies’ organization are guided by Christianity, and regularly hold prayer meetings to build not only as baseball players, but as fine moral men. As you well know, you’re not going to find a Playboy, expletive-laden music, or Devil’s Food cake in the locker room.

I thought the Angels and Padres were more apt teams to become the God Squad.

Look, I’m proud of the Rockies and what they are trying to do. No matter what thy calling is, one should try and make an effort to devote their vocation to You, as they will be rewarded with everlasting life, I got that. I’m a finance analyst and my favorite arithmetic operation is addition since the symbol resembles tiny crosses. But is Divine Intervention the way to win a Divisional Series? Can the Almighty choose favorites in America’s Past Time?

Revelations 2:2 -- I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance. I know that you cannot tolerate wicked men.

God, neither dugout is full of wicked men. For they both have worked hard to make the post-season. And while I know you have a history of rewarding those who hold your Being in highest regard, and I know Todd Helton’s beard is his daily reminder to walk in your footprints, and Clint Hurdle pens “Jesus” in on the “Bench” section of his lineup card, but what about the Phillies? They are good guys, too! Could you, maybe, I don’t know, let these two teams duke it out, without carrying Matt Holliday fly outs over the fence?

I’m telling you, Lord, my Phils are good guys. Jimmy Rollins often misses practice to walk old ladies across the street. Shane Victorino is still an altar boy in his local parish since the robes from when he was 12 still fit. Chase Utley memorized Acts of the Apostles during a rain delay in Florida. Ryan Howard has The Golden Rule branded into each of his bats. Pat Burrell prays in the outfield every game that he won’t get hit with a battery. Aaron Rowand must live with the Fire of God in him – there’s no way a man can live his life with so much reckless abandon without having an after-life plan in place. Abraham Nunez is the only Latino Jew I’ve ever known. Carlos Ruiz’s sign for a slider inside is actually the sign of the cross. And Kyle Kendrick – our pitcher today for Game 2 – just finished Sunday School.

Lord, those boys in red are good boys. So while the Rockies get all the Ink of God, keep in mind that the Fightin’ Phillies will totally invite you to their World Series Parade. If you let them.

Oh, and thanks for “mentioning” to Charlie Manuel that Adam Eaton sucks. Didn't want to see him on the postseason roster. Smite him at will.

In Your Name,

Chris Condon
Phillies Fan

A Cake Named Pinstripes

Now that’s how you do a birthday.

I was on the receiving end of two different birthday presents of which I would like to discuss with you. The first one will leave you with a question worth hours of meditative pondering. The second might read like semi-serious sports column. I ask that you forgive me for both in advance.

Item #1: a fog-less in-shower shaving mirror. By my request, I asked for a mirror that you can put within the shower curtain so that one can shave without having to treat sideburns with a “best-guess” methodology. Well, I used it this morning, and the circular reflection of facial insight worked like a gem. No longer do I have to peek outside the curtain to get a glimpse of the mirror on the other side of the bathroom. But riddle me this: if they have the ability to make shower shaving mirrors fog-less, WHY DON’T WE USE THAT TECHNOLOGY ON ALL MIRRORS?

Item #2: a playoff spot for the Philadelphia Phillies.

Yeah, let’s just savor that for a second.

I’d like to personally thank each and every New York Met that phoned it in over the last part of the season. Your inability to hold a late-inning lead, play error-free baseball, pitch effectively out of the bullpen, or beat the Phillies in any of the last six games you played against one another were all very thoughtful, and I appreciate you thinking of my city and me. I’d also like to thank the Florida Marlins, who took care of business and ended their season on as ruiners for the Mets. And as for my local team, the Washington Nationals, thank you as well. I admire your manager’s move to make this a fair fight and play your starters throughout the weekend over young’ins, as well as the whupping you delivered at Shea Stadium early last week. You will always be my second-favorite team because of your efforts this season. (Also, thank you for losing the season series with the Phillies; Mattias owes me a Wawa hoagie because of it.)

I’m forgetting someone here in the division. Who could that – oh right, the Atlanta Braves.

Screw the Atlanta Braves.

But it was the Fightin’s who had just as much to do with this post-season birth as any of the teams listed above. They made a true stretch run that did not falter in the end. They won games in all sorts of ways, and that included spotting the other team a few runs every time Adam Eaton took the hill. Now they go into the postseason with a recovering ace, an old man, and a couple of Kyles on the mound, and honestly, I couldn’t be more confident about it. The lineup is locked and loaded at every position (assuming Ruiz’s elbow is okay after getting drilled yesterday.), and Charlie Manuel has promised me he will do everything in his power to not let Wes Helms onto the field.

The last time the Phillies made the playoffs, their charmed existence became a thread woven into my daily fabric. I was permitted to go about my day wearing hats, jerseys, and everything else I had in my support of them. Meetings were interrupted to discuss their chances, and the entire commute was froth with baseball chatter.

Of course, I was in 8th grade at the time.

Yes, the last time this ballclub played extra frames was 1993 – the year that they lost to Canada in the World Series. I’m twice as old now as I was back then. Darren Daulton is twice as crazy. And yet, during all this tim of chasing down New York and San Diego, somehow Philly ended up in the driver’s seat. Citizens Bank Park will play host to Game 1 and 2, and potentially Game 5 in the following week. Our opponent will be either the Padres or the Rockies. (They play a one-game playoff tonight, which is good, because it’s totally unfair to make Philly have to play both of them at the same time.)

I’d like to close with a statistic. In 1980, the Phillies won the World Series in my first full season of baseball. Clara, my daughter, was born 49 days before Opening Day, making this her first full season of baseball.

Just sayin’.

The View from the Mound

It's a whole new ball game.

The difficulty of raising a baby enjoys a direct correlation to one's ability to be able to accurately locate the whereabouts of said baby. Despite the culture shock and sleepless nights that set in immediately when you get home from the hospital, raising your newborn is not so crazy a proposition. There's sleeping, there's feeding, and there's holding - lots of holding. And with two of you rocking the shiftwork, it's nothing impossible. Heck, before she can learn to wiggle (or watch The Wiggles, for that matter), plenty of subsitute holders can fill in at anytime.

It's like starting an inning against the 9-hole in the lineup. Congratulations, you got the pitcher to strike out looking - he didn't even take the bat off his shoulder. One down.

But then a month or two passes, and periods of you sitting and holding begin to wane. Time is spent with baby on her back, with various mobiles, toys, and dangling rings to reach and swat at. Perhaps, if you're feeling adventurous, you'll flip her over and wait for the wailing. The fact of the matter is, once you put her on the ground, it's making her familiar with the terrain that separate A from B. And for a little person who thrives on feeling new textures (sweet, sweet, carpet), this could be the catalyst of something bigger.

After retiring the pitcher, the lead-off hitter taps a slap single down the third base line, only to beat a great throw from your third-baseman by half a step. Good effort, nonetheless.

And then one day, she'll decide being on her stomach isn't the worst thing in the world. Her vision levels out; seems thing less upside-down. Granted, she's not thinking on inching forward at that toy duck anytime soon, but it's nice to see that the duck's bill is actually below its eyes. In fact, any attempt to motion forward typically results in a few steps back - Paula Abdul would be proud. But all this time, she's watching you. She's watching you glide easily from place to place in that spacious apartment of yours, taking notes on how easily movement can be. Better lace up those cleats, Mom and Dad.

With one on and one out, you work the count against the 2 hitter. There's lot of fouling off pitches on the full count, and while you're not showing signs of tiring, you can feel the batter's confidence building with each swing. Finally, you make a minor mistake and the 2-hitter knocks a ball by you up the middle. Runners at 1st and third, one out.

As fun as lying on one's stomach is, someone quickly realizes that they can get from A to B by means of rolling. It's not exactly travel by straight line, but it can get you from the coffee table and back much in the flight path "The Scrambler" takes at your local amusement park. But all this rolling - it doesn't get anyone anywhere fast. Situation is still normal, all systems are go.

And then Ryan Howard steps to the plate, and you're out of left-handed relievers. Your shoulders drop. You know he's got your number.

And someone learns to crawl.

Like I said, it's a whole new ball game.

No Box Score is an Island

Being a Philly fan outside of Philly is hard.

Over the weekend, I spent some time back in the Delaware Valley at the Jersey Shore. For the most part, vacation havens like Ocean City, Wildwood, Avalon, Sea Isle, and others serves as a convenient place for those in the tri-state area to take a break without having to book an airline to get there. The premise of shore life is rather simple – it’s the only place you can look forward to sitting in an uncomfortable chair to just read a book. But the Shore is more than that – there’s a culture aspect to it.

And that culture loves Philadelphia sports.

As you drive the long North-South avenues of any of the isles, you’ll see that this area, some hour and a half from the City of Brotherly Love, live and die by the teams they so desperately support. Eagles flags billow in the breeze off the deck railing of rental duplexes. People spend their evenings not watching the crap on network summer television, but watching the Phillies play a moderately important series against the Braves. The basketball courts no longer have players with the Iverson shoes – they’ve moved on to Andre Iguodala jerseys and Kyle Korver haircuts. The vacation getaway is alive with Philly sports talk, without the help of Angelo Cataldi et al.

Back to the real world…

The omnipresence of Philadelphia sports disappears as you go over that picturesque bridge near Havre de Grace on I-95 in Maryland. The Flyers bumper stickers are harder to come by, and the Eagles preseason WYSP radio broadcast crackles into silent airwaves. If you want to be an out-of-town sports fan, it’s all on you to maintain the fervor and interest that you receive automatically by breathing the hometown air. You have to make the best of it with what you’ve got.

Fortunately for me, both the Phils and the Birds play in the same division as their Washington D.C. counterparts. That means even if everything else goes wrong, I’m guaranteed 2 NFL and 18 MLB games with full media coverage here in the Nation’s Capital. So there I was, listening to the Washington Post talk radio station for the last few innings of the series opener between Philadelphia and your Washington Nationals.

Not mine, mind you.

Without TV coverage, I keep track of a lot of the Fightins’ efforts via GameTracker on MLB.com. It updates pitch-by-pitch, and keeps way closer to real time compared to whatever hamster-powered engine the NHL uses. As I was busy lowering Clara’s crib down to the second notch last night, I watched as the Nationals went up 2-0 on a pinch hit double over the head of Pat Burrell. Dejected, I minimized GameTracker and set out to do some errands.

Following a brief trip to Wegman’s, I spent the trip over to Target in the Top of the 8th with Philly down 2-0. After a non-surprising pop out from Jason Werth (he’s your Victorino pro tempore), Greg Dobbs ended up on second after a Ryan Zimmerman throwing error. Rookie phenom catcher Carlos Ruiz singled him home to make the score 2-1 with one out.

At this point, I had been sitting in the Target parking lot for five minutes. With newly acquired Russell Branyan coming up (batting average: .197), I figured I wouldn’t get too excited about this mini-rally.

25 minutes and 36 packages of gooified baby veggies later (bought, not eaten), I returned to my car to check the score. All of a sudden, we’re bottom nine. Bottom nine!

(If the bottom of the ninth is being played, that means that the home team (in this case, Washington) is either tied or trailing. Otherwise, they wouldn’t even bat. Translation: WooHoo!)

So Branyan decked a 3-2 Jon Rauch pitch into the right field, uh, “Washington Wall of Fame,” Tom Gordon held them scoreless in the eighth, the heart of the Phillies lineup fanned in the ninth, and now Brett Myers stands on the mound while I sit in my car.

Batter #1: Ryan Langerhans. Result: Struck out, swinging.
Batter #2: Brian Schneider. Result: Struck out, swinging.
Batter #3: Nook Logan. Result: Struck out, swinging.

No one in the DC area was cheering louder.

Or in my car, for that matter.

Throw Mauer From the Train

In our first year of blogging, we attempted to cover the MLB All-Star Game, running diary style. After about 90 minutes, we lost interest in covering a largely meaningless exhibition game that the National League gets perennially waxed in. This season’s edition will be held tonight in San Francisco.

We have no intention of live blogging it.

However, we don’t want it to pass us by without any mention, so we’re going to do a much more compact, concise running diary. Rather than chart interleague balls and strikes for four hours, let’s stay within our standard column length while showing our astute grasp for America’s Past time while taking a few cheap shots along the way. Without further ado, we give you the 2007 Live Blog of the Commercial for the MLB All-Star Game on Fox.

Preamble: This commercial, much like the pinball-themed once of last year, shows various Major League All-Stars on their way to the All-Star Game in San Francisco. The design of the ad is to show the game’s best and brightest working together to compete against the other league, while reminding people of the host city’s key features. There’s a problem, though. Fox needs to air this commercial for a good month and a half prior to tonight’s game in order to garner sizeable interest in the telecast. However, the All-Star rosters are only announced 10 days before the game.

What does this mean?

The commercial is shot in the pre-season, long before anyone can put forth a half-season of merit, earning them an All-Star invite. Because of this, uh, scheduling error, MLB must do its best to predict who will be in the Big Game as to not look like jackasses. Therefore, you’re not going to see Roger Clemens, who was retired at the time of filming. (That’s okay, he’s not an All-Star anyway.) Let’s proceed, shall we?

The commercial in question can be found here.

0:01: You can see this is fiction from the get-go. A trolley stops to pick up Giants left fielder Barry Bonds. No, it’s not fiction that Bonds is on the team; rather, it’s fiction because a trolley is willing to stop to pick up Barry Bonds.

0:06: Meanwhile, Derek Jeter (2-0!) hops on the American League trolley after wandering aimlessly through the streets of San Francisco for hours. You would think a guy making $17.9 million a year could have afforded a cab. You would also think that there’s an injury provision in pro ballplayers contracts that forbids them to casually jump onto moving vehicles.

0:11: As the two leagues’ trolleys pull alongside one another, they come to a stop at a traffic light. We see three NY Mets – Carlos Beltran, Jose Reyes, and David Wright – all All-Stars (5-0!) standing and smiling. They’re smiling because the trolley is much preferred to the NYC Subway. Across the way are a couple of Twins – Johan Santana and Joe Mauer. Who the hell let Mauer on board? He’s no All-Star (6-1!), having spent most of the first season on the DL, thereby killing my fantasy team. Oh and apparently, the All-Star Game will be decided by who can chew gum more pleasantly: Wright or Mauer.

0:18: Wright slows the train to pick-up Braves’ outfielder Andruw Jones (6-2!), his .211 average, and his 87 strikeouts. Nice pick-up, Dave.

0:21: The A.L. counters with Home Run Derby Champ Vlad Guerrero (7-2!). Something tells me this will be their 10th win in 11 years already. Damn it.

0:24: Wright violently shifts gears, and newspapers fly out of the hands of Nomar Garciaparra (7-3!) and Beltran. For the record, the Mets’ 3B is anti-Sudoku. In the background behind Nomar, an extra wearing #97 remains unfazed.

0:26: Hanging from the side of the NL Car? Mark Ruffalo – no, wait. That’s Barry Zito. (7-4!) No wonder this NL trolley is so damn slow. That guy’s ERA is 4.90 and his contract is heavier than Prince Fielder.

0:28: Chicago Cubs Derrek Lee and Alfonso Soriano (9-4!) are clearly on a date.

0:30: Madman Conductor Wright hits the brakes, as he drives right through a parade. Lance Berkman (9-5!) loses his footing, while Chase Utley (10-5!) and Ryan Howard (10-6!) point and laugh at the tuba players running for their lives. I had no idea I root for such sadistic bastards.

0:36: Apropos of nothing, Jimmy Rollins (10-7!) is eating a donut. He deserves to be on this trolley, but alas, he is not. Why isn’t here in SF tonight?

0:38: Because the phantom hand of Jason Bay (10-8!) has pulled Pirates’ infielder Freddy Sanchez on board. (11-8!) My only real problem with the All-Star rosters, Tony LaRussa picked an under qualified Sanchez over starting pitcher Ian Snell, thereby using up the spot that Rollins deserves. Ok, off my soap box now.

0:41: On the AL trolley, someone sends Jason Giambi a text message that says, “DUCK!” It should have said, “UR NOT AN ASTAR! TTYL!” (11-9!) A-Rod (12-9!) watches from afar, and makes 2.3 million dollars in the process.

0:48: For no reason whatsoever, Blue Jays pitcher Roy Halladay swings out of the trolley and busts a Road Closed sign with a hanging curve. He’s angry, and he’s not on the team, either. (12-10!)

0:52: Despite Jason Bay’s irony, both trollies crash into the water surrounding San Fran. All the All-Stars drown. Guest kayaker Adam Sandler is too late.

Only on FOX!

Walking the Plank

2 years ago, we set out our clubhouse rules for our fantasy baseball team as a result of a former player of ours making a rookie mistake. Yes, for fans of my then-named franchise “Ig League Chew,” we regretted to inform them that starting shortstop Clint Barmes was injured because he was stupid. What was known at the time of publishing is that Barmes had fallen down some stairs carrying groceries up to his first-year pad. What came out later was that by groceries, he meant “large slab of deer meat that he shot and killed over at Todd Helton’s house.” Ah, of course. Sadly, I’ve been pushing our commissioner to add deer meat to our league’s list of banned substances, but I’m making very little head way.

Now, Mr. Deer Meat is as far from my roster as possible. In fact, not only do I not have a spot for him on my squad, his MLB team, the Colorado Rockies, don’t have room for a career .250 hitter with a history of venison miscarriage. Since the end of April, Barmes has been biding his time with his new wife in Colorado Springs. He’s no Rockie; ‘tis a member of the Sky Sox.

What is the singular form of Sky Sox, anyway? Sky Sock?

But just when you thought I had flushed fantasy incompetence from my virtual locker room, I find out that one of my pitchers has been taking careful notes of Deer Meat’s limited tenure here. Now I was proud of Deer Meat, a waiver wire pick-up that was flirting with batting .400 before his “hunting accident.” I, too, had similar aspirations for late-round draft pick Ian Snell. After all, he had a solid spring training, was capable of throwing heat, and as a member of the Pittsburgh Pirates, it was unlikely he was on many people’s radar.

And despite having a dumb name, Snell hasn’t disappointed. He’s got a 2.63 ERA, has 78 strikeouts, and may be flirting with an all-star selection from Steeltown. Sure, he’s not national news, but he’s a strong contributor to my team this year, the 4th place “Dickie Thon in a Box.”

So why was I worried when I heard he’d miss his next start on the radio?

This morning, I was listening to DC101, a non-sports talk station. Once an hour, they run through a news report, which closes out with sports. The sports normally focus on the big things – things that make ESPN.com’s front page, as well as the latest on the DC teams. So when the final story started with, “Pittsburgh Pirates starting pitcher Ian Snell will miss his next start due to a blister on his finger,” I knew I was in for a world of trouble.Why would a non-sports station blindly report that a decent small market team pitcher not in Washington’s division has an injury that isn’t even worthy of the disabled list?

Oh God, there’s going to be a punchline here.

It turns out that the rumor of Snell’s blister is truth. And unlike many other pitchers in the game today, his did not come from pitching too much. Yet again, my fantasy baseball team will suffer on account of a star player trying to feed himself. From the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette,

“Ian Snell will not start tomorrow night against Seattle because of a blister on the index finger of his right hand. The right-hander blistered his finger while cooking in his kitchen. "I was cooking a chicken breast for a salad and burned my finger," Snell said. "I'm all right, but the salad wasn't too good."”

WHAT?

Look, Ian. I’m proud of you. You play a game that has featured perennial fat guys like David Wells, Antonio Alfonseca, and Curt Schilling. You’re trying to maintain that slim figure by eating healthy. We’re very excited to see that your diet is reasonable, yet protein-enriched. But damn it, man. May I introduce you to Perdue Short Cuts? It’s either that, or I’m making you vegan. You’ll be the only vegan in Pittsburgh.

Deer Meat, I’d like you to meet Chicken Salad.
Chicken Salad, this is Deer Meat.

Have a Drumstick and Your Brain Stops Ticking

A few nights back, I attended my first ever game at Oriole Park at Camden Yards. The following are some thoughts concerning said game.

Up until this point in my life, I had actually only seen major league baseball in three different places. First, you have Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia. The Fightins’ home until 2004, it was a concrete monolith that favored symmetry over style. Second, there’s RFK Stadium in DC, the current home of your Washington Nationals. In essence, it’s the twin stadium to the Vet, only with a greater propensity to run out of concessions in the upper decks by the 4th inning. And finally, there’s Citizens Bank Park, the current home of Philly. Much to the chagrin of the bankers that are spending million to loft their moniker over the park, it’s come to be known simply as the “Bank.” Lord knows Billy Wagner cashed in there after one good season.

(Fun Fact: Citizens Bank Park can be re-arranged to spell both “CRAZIEST PINK BANK” and “ZEBRA NAPKIN STICK.” That is all.)

However, we can now add the retro-modern feel of the Charm City to that list. This was no easy task. With a 7:05 start on tap, I left my desk at 5, some 50 miles from my seat. Once you calculate the money needed for gas and the anguish of spending two straight hours in traffic, there’s no way I’m shelling out any cash whatsoever to which the lowly Orioles do battle with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. But Condon, sports franchises make money by charging patrons to watch the game! What will you do?

Enter the Chinese Chicken.

Joe Brescia, in the 15 years that I’ve known him, has worn a lot of hats. He’s been a youth soccer enforcer, a World Cultures compatriot, a roller hockey linemate, the future GM of the Flyers, a trampoline inspector, arcade race car driver, cell phone connoisseur, a Savage Gardener, and the hat Lou Jester stole from him in high school. But now we can one more lid to his collection.

Caterer to the Stars.

For those who don’t know, The Breche Mode is a manager of the new P.F. Changs in Inner Harbor Baltimore. Somehow, he convince the Baltimore Orioles to let them supply locker room cuisine for home games. In exchange? You guessed it.

Free tickets.

I could care less if Miguel Tejada and Erik Bedard fight over the last lettuce wrap if Mr. Brescia sends a free seat to a pro ball game my way. (Note: Tejada always wins that battle.) And so he did last week, where I witnessed quite possibly the weirdest sequence of events I’ve ever seen live at a pro sporting event. Let’s paint the picture, no?

Okay, it’s bottom 5 and the O’s are clinging to a 7-6 lead. Melvin Mora (quite possibly the geekiest first name for an athlete) singles to center field to lead off the inning. Kevin Millar flies out to center, and Jay Payton steps to the plate. On a 1-0 count, Mora steals second. The D-Rays’ catcher, Dioner Navarro, throws the ball into centerfield (he was distracted by the icy sheen from the dome of Sr. Brescia) and Mora gets up and tails it to third, beating the throw from the outfield. He’s safe, and everybody agrees.

Everyone, that is, but Tampa 3B Ty Wigginton.

Wigginton (the geekiest surname in the MLB) makes short work of his rant and gets tossed from the game by the umpire. You don’t see that every day. As he sulks his way to the dugout, he throws his cap into the stands. You don’t see that every day. Because we are in Baltimore and not Tampa, the crowd chants for the recipient of said cap to throw Ty’s hat back onto the field. He complies.* You don’t see that every day. In all the excitement surrounding Wigginton and his well-traveled hat, few saw a man running across the outfield from his seats in left-center. You don’t see that every day.

Oh, and the Orioles won. You don’t see that every day.

*Personally, I would have rebuked the surrounding fans and kept the hat. But that’s just me.

TR is Rushmore's Sunderland

Forget the 2008 Presidential Race. I’d like to hold a Special Election to promote a former President to acclaimed status.

As it currently stands, Mount Rushmore contains the stately heads of Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, and Theodore Roosevelt. This quartet served as the inspiration for the Washington Nationals’ Presidents Race for the 2006 season at RFK. Similar to the mighty sausage drag race of Wisconsin, the Presidents Race of RFK has Nats’ staffers inside the costumes of our former heads of state, as they race from the right field foul pole to a finish line in front of the dugout.

Here’s the Fab Four.

However, it has become local lore that while 3 of our former Commanders-in-Chief started their mornings in the White House with a brisk jog, one lags horribly behind. That’s right, Nats fans – TR is slower than Nick Johnson’s recovery from his broken leg. With one season plus one game in the books, Teddy Roosevelt has NEVER, EVER won the Presidents Race.

After being an also-ran for 81 games last year, the Nats’ management even devised a way for TR to cheat his way to an Opening Day victory yesterday, during Washington’s 9-2 loss to the Marlins. An inning prior to the great race, a certain 26th President of the United States appeared to be contemplating suicide, as he stood high above the field. While his peculiar placement drew the park’s interest away from Hanley Ramirez’s sick opening day, it did nothing to assuage the fears that he’d take a flying leap down to the pavement.

No, he had other plans in mind.

Over the reign of Theodore Roosevelt, historians have had many exciting tales to lament and ultimately, exaggerate in middle school textbooks. There was that time he left the country to round up animals for the Smithsonian on an African safari, and killed a bear using only his teeth. He got the idea of having a Great White Naval Fleet playing with his tub toys – a practice later attempted by Taft – this is why he got stuck. And now, Teddy Roosevelt has learned to fly.

For those too lazy to click through to the accompanying YouTube video, Captain Big Stick leapt from the roof of RFK and utilized a zip line to zoom ahead of mere bipedal Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln. He surged out to a commanding lead over his rivals. 2007 could be HIS year. However, in order to win the race, TR would have to land and finish the final few steps on foot. His landing was far from graceful – as he fell on his back in shame, the other three sped by. Same old result.

So what should we do with a foam representation of a former President whose ethics are now called largely into question? Impeach him posthumously? Nay.

Send him to the minors.

I know we broke free of Great Britain for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, but I feel that we can still learn from our former rulers. In their English Premier League, any team deemed to be substandard, or unable to keep up with the level of competition the rest of the league is exhibiting, they are demoted to the Football League Championship. Each year, three teams go down, and three teams come up. This encourages teams to not phone it in (as Washington may be threatening to do in ’07), as well as give teams from other origins a chance to compete on the main stage.

Wouldn’t this be PERFECT for the Presidents Race?

After last year, TR would get demoted for a year, and seek reinstatement next off-season. In the meantime, a new challenger would enter the fray and take on the other Fathers of our Country for this season.

I leave it to the YAB Readership YAB for Presidential suggestions.

Hot Corner Cinema, Part 2

Ok, before we unveil the arms of the team, some notes on Part 1.

• As Spud deftly pointed out, Roy Hobbs was actually a right fielder in The Natural. After the gunshot to the arm, he didn’t have the strength to pitch in the majors. I’ll keep on the pitching staff, though, as we hearken back to the times when all nine positional players could swing the bat, long before the DH rule tainted the American League. So rather than having a Brett Myers (2 hits in 63 AB last season,) Hobbs pitches.
• This roster says an awful lot about what we like from our baseball flicks. Face it, there’s nothing interesting about an infielder who makes routine plays in the field. If anywhere in the infield, we make movies about catchers. In the field, they participate in every play, engage in witty banter with opposing hitters, and it’s okay for them to be a little out of shape, and thus, endearing. While we took Dottie and Crash, we had to cut Major League’s Jake Taylor, The Sandlot’s Ham Porter, and even Summer Catch’s Billy Brubaker (Spud’s theory: Matthew Lillard makes any movie better. And trust me, Summer Catch needs all the help it can get.)

Let’s get ready to hurl. (Ok, that sounded WAY better before I typed it.)

Starting Rotation:
Roy Hobbs – The Natural – Like I said yesterday, he gets this spot because he took down the biggest hitter in the league, The Whammer, on three pitches. And then, the movie ends up being about his hitting, not his fastballs. Talk about multi-talented. It’s like if Ghostbusters began about Peter Venkman’s ability to capture ghastly apparitions, only to find out it’s really a movie about his ability to pull tablecloths out from under dishware. Yes, the flowers are still standing.
Nook LaLoosh – Bull Durham – A bit of a headcase, but that’s just as dangerous to the other team as it is to your own manager. He has the skills to be a part of The Show. However, they laugh at you in The Show if you wear women’s underwear. And yeah, the rose goes in the front, big guy.
Steve Nebraska – The Scout – Let’s just call this me officially getting over my hang-up that Brendan Fraser is a bad actor. (He just chooses projects terribly.) A tall righty whose claim to fame if winning the World Series by pitching a perfect game, composed of 27 straight three-pitch strikeouts, Nebraska is probably the staff ace – if he can keep his head on straight. Although in that game against the Cardinals, the final batter is Ozzie Smith. I know it seems impressive, but that’s a tad anti-climactic for two reasons. If he strikes out Ozzie as the 27th batter, that means St.Louis has him batting ninth – behind the pitcher. He must be mired in a terrible slump. Oh, and Ozzie Smith isn’t exactly know for his batting prowess – he was a lifetime .262 hitter.
Billy Chapel – For the Love of the Game – For the love of the game, I’ve tried to watch this movie three times and have never stayed awake past the 10 minutes mark. Oh, and the director – you’ll never guess. Sam Raimi.
Henry Wiggen – Bang the Drum Slowly – From IMDB, it says “The story of a New York pro baseball team and two of its players. Henry Wiggen is the star pitcher and Bruce Pearson is the normal, everyday catcher who is far from the star player on the team and friend to all of his teammates. During the off-season, Bruce learns that he is terminally ill, and Henry, his only true friend, is determined to be the one person there for him during his last season with the club. The pitcher, Wiggen, was played by Michael Moriarty, who went on to do such films as Troll and The Stuff. The catcher? A young actor named Robert DeNiro.

Bullpen
Rick “Wild Thing” Vaughn – Major League. Hey Red Sox, you did the right thing returning Jonathan Papelbon to the closer’s role for this upcoming season. Vaughn is living proof that sometimes closers are just meant to be closers. Or deodorant pitchmen.
Jim Morris – The Rookie – This movie should not have been good. It really should not have. And somehow, it was. Because of Morris’ age, we’ll make him a middle reliever who can still throw heat but only needs to go an inning or two to get the job done.
Amanda Whurlitzer – Bad News Bears – If Hinson is still in the game, this would be the first all-female battery in the history of Major League baseball. And if this woman is promoted, she could be the umpire. Could you imagine some intense pro player like Carlos Delgado stepping to the plate and trying to concentrate with all these women around? Guaranteed out.
Henry Rowengartner – Rookie of the Year – You know, before he loses his 120-MPH laser rocket arm and has to subject us all to the ridiculous underhanded toss his mom taught him. No offense, kid, but Ryan Howard would crush that 650 feet. Let’s hope you still got the heat, otherwise you may actually agree to be in those horrid American Pie sequels they’re churning out.
Kenny Denunez – The Sandlot – After Benny, the only player from that old ballfield to play semi-professionally. He made it to Triple-A. (Jesse Hall is a two-sport phenom.)
Ryan Dunne – Summer Catch – Freddie Prinze Jr. makes the team, but only because I had to do everything in my power to not take Tony Danza’s character from Angels in the Outfield. From Spud’s Film Critic Review: This movie contains one of the stupidest "inspirational" moments in all of film. When Danny Glover comes out to trick 57-year-old pitcher Tony Danza into believing that he will be able to strike out the league's RBI leader on his 160th pitch when he has his closer warmed up in the bullpen by telling him that "the kid sees an angel," and the whole Angels crowd stands up to do that stupid arms-waving thing. So ridiculous.

Hot Corner Cinema, Part 1

You may recall that in lieu of a 2004-2005 NHL season, we were forced to get our hockey fix elsewhere. This was the reason for forming our Cinematic All-Star Pro Hockey Team. Looking back almost three years and re-reading it now, here are some thoughts that come to mind.

• There just haven’t been that many hockey movies. Outside of any movies involving ducks with super-strength, we count about 5 true hockey flicks. We had to reach a bit to include Happy Gilmore, for the love of Saku Koivu.
• The lack of hockey movies provided a talent pool so thin that we accepted Mike Modano as our third-line center. For those who don’t recall, he had a brief came alongside Basil McRae in the first Duck movie. About 12 seconds of screen time.
• Charlie Conway was left off. This STILL pleases us.

When the Mets do battle with the Cardinals this Sunday, the 2006 Major League Baseball season will be upon us. And with that, we’ve decided to unveil a far more impressive team in our franchise stable, the YAB Cinematic All-Star Pro Baseball Team. Here were our rules this time around.

• No Cameos. MLB tends to cooperate with Hollywood, so pro players end up in movies all the time. You could form a team of just them, and hell, maybe some day we will. In the meantime, there won’t be Mike Modanos on this squad.
• No Hall of Famers - more than likely if you are the focus of a movie - Pride of the Yankees, Babe, that one about Grover Cleveland Alexander - you were probably damn good. Cheating. Not in the Hall? We’ll consider you.
  No more than 3 players from any one movie (including sequels)
  

Starting Lineup

1. 3B – Benny “The Jet” Rodriguez – The Sandlot – In the movie, Benny always seemed to be hitting batting practice to the rest of the guys, so we never really know his true position. However, we have no doubt he can play them all. Therefore, we see him as an A-Rod, but with more speed. (Mike Vitar, the actor, is the only guy to make both our baseball and hockey teams.)
2. CF – Bobby Rayburn – The Fan – The first of two actors with multiple lockers. Snipes plays the total package in center here, and is a mirror image of another San Francisco Giant who can belt homers and wears an earring. But 6 hat sizes smaller.
3. SS – Joe Hardy – Damn Yankees! – The slugger who made a deal with the devil, this Senator might be the closest a Washington ball player gets to an all-star team this year. When Katie directed this musical back in 2003, she had me pen a parody of Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy for the show to be about Hardy. (It rules to hear other people perform your lyrics.)
4. RF – Pedro Cerrano – Major League – There’s a clear distinction between Cerrano in the first movie and Cerrano in the second movie. We’re picking Cerrano #1 here. If my starting right fielder ever ran outside of the base paths to help a fallen bird he hit with a line drive, it would be Back to the Minors with him. Oh, Jobu!
5. LF – Shoeless Joe Jackson – Field of Dreams – The nice thing about making the rules? You get to make the loopholes, too. The heart and soul of my favorite baseball movie.
6. C – Dottie Hinson – A League of their Own – I don’t care if she plays ball like a girl. She’s a power-hitting catcher with flexibility, the mindset to cool off hot-tempered pitchers, and is a true leader in the clubhouse. As an added bonus, she’s almost as pretty as Mike Piazza. Almost.
7. 1B – Jack Elliot – Mr. Baseball – How did one of the most important positions in baseball, from a hitter’s perspective get so overlooked in film? I guess there’s not a whole lot a player can do in the climactic scene of a baseball flick from first, other than catch the final out after a brilliant diving stab from the shortstop, but really? I’ve got Mr. Baseball in the starting lineup?
8. 2B – Marla Hooch – A League of their Own – the best true contact hitter on the team. Not much of a singer, we hear.
9. P – Roy Hobbs – The Natural – Again, another star at the plate who we don’t see much other than in the dugout or circling the basis, The Natural proves that he’s the best pitcher on my staff in the early scene in the movie where he sends the Babe Ruth-like guy home swinging on three pitches. Not a guaranteed out, like most pitchers. Wonderboys for everybody.
   

Postional Bench Players
1B – Lou Collins – Little Big League – Yeah, when I’m trying to cast a star ball player for my movie, the first actor that comes to my mind is totally…Timothy Busfield? Personally, I thought they’d never let him near another field after he played such a huge prick in Field of Dreams. Like I said, 1B is WEAK.
C – Crash Davis – Bull Durham – Face it. He’s a minor league catcher on the decline of his career, but he brings certain intangibles to this team that few others can. He has a mentoring relationship with one of our starting pitchers, and no all-star baseball team would be complete without at least two appearances by Kevin Costner. I swear, he pitches movies as adventure-romance epics, and then when he gets the funding, he pulls out a diamond story.
OF – Archibald “Moonlight” Graham – Field of Dreams – Graham, a real player, never got an at-bat in a major league game. Which is to say, Graham is the one player on this team who will never ground into a double play, strike out, fly out, ground out, or pop out. No one has ever gotten him out, and we assume that to be true going forward.
2B – Denny Hemmerling – Angels in the Outfield – Scrappy middle infielder played by Academy Award winner Adrien Brody. Aside from the ridiculous play where the ball off of Denny’s bat never leaves the infield, yet eludes the fielders 20-something times while the speedster rounds the bases, he’s primarily going to be a pinch runner and defensive replacement.
OF – Stan Ross – Mr. 3000 – Bernie Mac has locker room presence. Bernie Mac brings the funny. Bernie Mac has magic powers. How else do you explain a movie that centers around the Milwaukee Brewers?
OF – Willie Mays Hayes – Major League – Is it just me, or does he look a LOT different in the second movie? And I’m not just talking about that power stroke, either.

Pitchers to follow later.

YABDome, anyone?

In a move likely caused to divert attention from the fact they may actually put Sammy Sosa on their opening day roster, the Texas Rangers have laughed in the face of corporate funding and decided to rename their stadium “Rangers Ballpark in Arlington.” Previously Ameriquest Field, the Ballpark will no longer be known to fans as a random institution of financial services, much less one that’s headed for the tank in a number of years.

Good for you, Texas Rangers. Walker would be proud.

Yes, it’s a sad reality that there aren’t more of these naming rights buybacks happening, but hey, money talks. When the Flyers and Sixers built a new stadium in the mid-nineties, Comcast-Spectacor offered up the naming rights for an additional source of revenue. CoreStates took the lead, only to be bought by First Union. And when it was time to change the name from the CoreStates Center to the First Union National Center, Flyers winger Brant Myhres objected. There’s no way he could get into a hockey fight in a place known as the FUN Center. And like that, the National was 86’ed.

The Philly sports complex is now the banking district of the Eastern Seaboard. You’ve got Lincoln Financial Field, the Wachovia Center, and of course, Citizens Bank Park. Hopefully, this era of financial prosperity will translate into a championship soon. Please?

The Kids in Philly may have nothing to complain about when it comes to naming rights, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t stupidly-named stadiums elsewhere in the 4 major sports. The worst ten follow here.

10. Dolphins Stadium – Florida Marlins (MLB) – This is a great, great name for the Marlins’ locker room neighbors, the Miami Dolphins. There’s no corporate overlord and it tells it like it is. However, it’s a little embarrassing to be playing in a stadium named for an entirely different pro sports franchise. Plus, a marlin and a dolphin are different species of underwater creature. They don’t even like to make eye contact at parties.

9. Rogers Centre – Toronto Blue Jays (MLB) – I have no problem with the name Rogers, nor do I protest at the silly British way of spelling Center. However, if I hadn’t let you know that this was Toronto, you’d have no idea 1) who plays here or 2) if this a stadium or a collegiate academic complex. What was so bad about calling it the SkyDome? Way to ruin sports, Canada.

8. LP Field – Tennessee Titans (NFL) – Lousiana-Pacific Paper Company has stepped up and bought the naming rights from Adelphia, who needs some spare cash to stop at Taco Bell for dinner on the way home from their bankruptcy proceedings. However, the Libertarian Party and Linkin Park are totally cool with the free advertising, too.

7. PETCO Park – San Diego Padres (MLB) – Does it bother anyone else that PETCO doesn’t actually sell pets, but rather mere pet supplies? You have no idea how many times I’ve driven by one of these stores and wanted to play with some puppies, only to end up playing with a 50 lb. bag of dog food. Somehow, I feel that San Diego could have held out for a stronger corporate sponsor that doesn’t remind their fans of bird cages and chew toys.

6. Rose Garden Arena – Portland Trailblazers (NBA) – Where would you rather play hoops? In Madison Square Garden or a Rose Garden? Ladies…

5. Minute Maid Park – Houston Astros (MLB) – In another showcase of who’s the inferior cola bottling company, Coke ponied up the cash to rename Enron Field after a certain multi-billion dollar corporation got busted for, well, everything financially possible. And what did they do? They named the ‘Stros’ field after their middling orange soda. Meanwhile Pepsi put its flagship brand on the Pepsi Center, home of the Colorado Avalanche. Figures.

4. Quicken Loans Arena – Cleveland Cavaliers (NBA) – Every time LeBron James scores 30 points in a game, you get to take home a free mortgage calculator. Rock.

3. Amway Arena – Orlando Magic (NBA) – How would you feel as a Magic fan over the past ten years? You’ve had two of the greatest NBA talents on your team in Shaquille O’Neal and Tracy McGrady, only to watch them go elsewhere to compete for NBA titles. Penny Hardaway was a bust, and it’s only a matter of time before Dwight Howard signs with Charlotte and torments you in your own division for the next six years. Yeah, I’d feel like my playoff hopes were being placed with a fishy operation, too.

2. University of Phoenix Stadium – Arizona Cardinals (NFL) – Yes, a university who lacks their own football team (and their own campus, for that matter) has found enough scratch to name the Arizona Cardinals’ new digs. If I were a student at said university, methinks I’d protest a bit about the level of tuition at this point, no?

1. Jobing.com Arena – Phoenix Coyotes (NHL) – Who is Jo Bing? Why does he have a website? Where did he come up with the money to name the Coyotes’ rink?
a. It’s actually pronounced (job-bing).
b. It’s a job search webpage.
c. By selling Amway products.

Free With the Price of Admission

Since the Flyers only garner about 12 seconds of daily Sports Center airtime, and March Madness has not yet begun, I think it’s safe to say that I’m ready for baseball season to begin. And why not? The actual pro ballplayers are enjoying themselves in sunny Florida (or Arizona), just taking batting practice and getting a tan. And with my softball season still over a month away, I’m taking blogging practice and getting a headache. Why can’t these two worlds – business and baseball – collide?

Oh, but they can.

In hopes of convincing fans to come down to the ballpark, pro teams will often create a promotion or theme night giveaway, in hopes that some crappy hat with MAB Paints stitched across the back will make it worth the price of your admission. Yeah, it makes the kiddies happy, and if you’re a hardcore, box-score keeping type, it may hold their interest until the top of the third. I remember growing up and going to numerous promotion days with my dad – the best, of course, being Bat Day. Now most promotions were for the kids, and this was strictly adhered to in the ads. “Hats for all kids 14 and Under! Juan Samuel baseball cards for all kids 14 and Under!” “Free Hot Dogs for all kids 14 and Under!” What does this mean?

Hey 15 year-olds! Stop freeloading and get a job, you slackers.

The Philadelphia Phillies enter this ’07 campaign with high hopes for their playoff chances. And because they want you to have equally high hopes, the following promotions have been planned. We comment on them now.

April 4th – Peanut Chews College Opening Night – Is there actually a Peanut Chews College? I figured after they failed miserably at making candy bars, they’d fold like a cheap card table, not venture into higher education.

April 15th – Jackie Robinson Salute – Since 2004, every April 15th has been in memory of the man who broke the color barrier in the Major Leagues. You want to talk memory, though? I remember that on the day when his number was retired across the entire league, the Phillies fielded the following starting 9 – Gregg Jefferies, Ruben Amaro, Darren Daulton, Rico Brogna, Mickey Morandini, Mike Lieberthal, Kevin Stocker, Scott Rolen, and Bobby Munoz. What’s so compelling about a team that lost that game? Not a single black guy in the starting lineup on Jackie Robinson Day. You stay classy, Terry Francona.

April 29th – Citizens Bank Phanatic Birthday – Look, I’ll honor another year of survival/existence for the big green freakshow that is the Phillie Phanatic. After all, not only did he not kill himself riding is all-terrain vehicle while looking through an eyehole no bigger than a stick of baseball card chewing gum, he lived through a horrific attack from a ferocious beast. Buy that guy(?) a drink.

June 3rd – Shane Victorino Hula Figurine – Look, there’s rumors that the Phils are going to trade Lieber to Toronto for solid outfielder Alex Rios, which has to make current rightfielder Shane Victorino a little bit nervous. Which must have been the exact time her agreed to a bobblehead that features him in a grass skirt. Hang loose, Shane. Hang loose.

June 26th – Stitch and Pitch Night – “Bring your knitting, stitching, quilting or other projects to the game and meet other enthusiasts while enjoying Phillies baseball.” Um, I’m not so sure that I want all of South Philly coming to the ballpark to knock back a few cold ones and then wield GIANT METAL NEEDLES. But hey, that’s just me.

July 29th – Equipment Drive – Look, fans. We’re proud to still be in playoff contention the day before the trade deadline, and we’d really like to bring in one more big bat to solidify our lineup for the stretch drive. Pittsburgh’s willing to part with Jason Bay, but in return they actually are requesting a truckload of big bats in return. Red and plastic, if possible. So if you have one, help out the Fightins,’ would ya?