Results tagged ‘ humor ’
Submitted for your approval: one normally mild mannered couple travelling companionably together down the 57 freeway as they do several times a month without incident. But this time something is different. Their voices grow louder and more excited and their gestures more enthusiastic. Their hearts beat faster, their anticipation increases to a child-like pitch and gooseflesh rises on their arms. Little do they know that they’re traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of lights out pitching and the sounds wooden bats striking balls, but of mental toughness; a dimension of wins and of losses, sadly this time the latter; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are a couple of chalk lines, a wall and a series of time honored rules startlingly complex in their seeming simplicity. That’s the signpost up ahead – it says exit Katella for Angels Stadium. Their next stop? The Baseball Zone. *Cue theme music. No! Not Buttercup. Never Buttercup!*
Friday night, as planned, we took ourselves out to the ballgame, to watch the Angels Home Opener against the Blue Jays. The weather was seriously touch and go for a while there, including a complete downpour as I was leaving my house. But it stayed dry in Anaheim through the game and the Friday Night Fireworks that followed, only starting to pelt us with a few fat rain drops as we headed out to our car. Would that my Angels had held the lead anywhere near as well as the clouds held back the rain.
The game itself? It started off well enough. Ervin Santana pitched like the good Ervin, the one with control who can throw strikes. Peter Bourjos is amazing to watch in center, flying across the grass, making difficult catches look effortless. We had a few good hits, scoring one in the 1st inning and another in the 3rd for an early two run lead. The Jays were slipping and sliding all over the outfield. Everything was off to a great start, and then we started to strand runners. Vernon Wells failed to cash in on runners in scoring position. Additional batters started to strand more runners. A two run lead is not a very safe thing deep into the game and it didn’t last. Santana gave up three runs aided by a few sloppy plays in the outfield.
By the time they brought in Fernando Rodney in the 9th – I know, not a save situation, but I was surprised! – I felt absolutely deflated. Rodney performed acceptably, allowing one runner on, but no walks and no additional runs. However, bringing him out just cemented the frustrating sense of one step forward, three giant steps back I was having after the stranded runners. Oh well, you never know what wonders or horrors you might witness when you visit: the Baseball Zone! I prefer wonders myself but I suppose that, in the end, a bad Friday night at the ballpark is probably better than a good Friday night almost anywhere else…and it’s only April 9th…But Conger needs to stop swinging for the fences, Wells needs to find his bat and work on running forward to make catches, and everyone else needs to work on hitting with runners in scoring position. I’m not panicking. All of this will come in the next few weeks. But…seriously!
The Opening Day experience outside of the game? It was fantastic, from the first goosebump raising view of the field coming up through the stadium to our seats, to that first bite of wonderfully nasty ballpark hotdog that I have been jonesing for, for months. Eli Grba, the first Angel selected in the team’s first draft and the Angels’ first opening day pitcher threw out the ceremonial first pitch. Grba is the first of a planned string of Angels alumni to perform this duty throughout the season. He was so cute in the interview before the game, talking about how nervous he was to throw out the pitch after so many years and how his friends would make fun of him if he bounced it on the ground. He did just fine, but it’s amusing to note that friends are the same everywhere no matter what the generation, and your best friends are the ones who’ll affectionately give you the most grief when necessary…or when not so necessary.
The front office has switched up some of the music and the pre-game slide show for the 50th anniversary and, while I need to see it a few more times to remember all of the details, I’m enjoying it so far. The flashback 1980s uniforms were a trip and a half. I remember these uniforms well from any number of Freeway Series I watched as a kid, though I was rooting for the other guys back then. I am amused that the concept of flashback uniforms extends to colors, logos and jersey designs, but the cut of the pants remains identical to the modern uniforms – no skinny pants fashion faux paus for the sake of historical accuracy here. Actually I laugh mostly because I can picture the players emphatically vetoing the silly looking and, no doubt, less comfortable 1980′s pants.
Fortunately, win or lose, here’s the thing about the Baseball Zone. It’s absolutely addicting. The first question I asked my husband this morning? So, do want to go to the ballgame tonight? He reigned me in a little – someone needs to sometimes! – but only just a little. We’re going back on Tuesday night and trying it out in the view level this time because my no more than $15 per ticket and try to keep it under $10 except for very special games rules are in full effect. Sometimes I reign myself in too.
Hopefully this evening’s game, which is about to begin, will be better. Kaz is conveniently injured and on the DL. Maybe he really did hurt his back, maybe he didn’t but he always seems to go on the DL right before his first start back after being obliterated by the opposing team. Either way, I’m excited to see how Matt Palmer does. Hey Angels, how about a little run support please? And by a little, I actually mean a lot.
Ah, the Angels game today. Losing the third straight game to the Royals 12 – 9 in the 13th inning was…
So…um…yeah…Baby showers anyone? I went to my husband’s cousin’s baby shower today. I absolutely loathe baby showers. Isn’t that funny? I mean, I like kids. I love helping friends and family celebrate good news, but I loathe baby showers…
Right. The game. This is a baseball blog after all, so I probably should talk about the game. I have a fun, bantering relationship with the husband of one of my cousins and, helpful Dodger loving fellow that he is, he left the following questions on my Facebook wall round about inning 11: “Four runs in the last three innings and you’re still going extras? Are the Angels aware they’re playing the Royals? Further, are they aware that these are not the same Royals they’ll call neighbors next year?” Yeah, about that…well see…it was like this…
You know what the problem with baby showers is? It’s the stupid games. If we could just have a normal party, co-ed or still ladies only, without having to diaper a balloon or pluck tiny pins from rice or guess…well, you get the general idea…and I digress. Again.
So, back to the game and the questions on my Facebook. Well, when you start out the game with Scott Kazmir on the mound, he allows five runs in the first one and 2/3s innings, we pull him and then go the bullpen in the 2nd inning. Our bullpen. The Arson squad part duex. In the second inning. You knew the game wasn’t going to be pretty. Oh, and our “closer”? Walking 3 batters and allowing two earned runs in 1/3 of an inning? I’m just…
You know, today’s shower was actually fun! I think this really just proves my basic argument though. The wonderful ladies who planned it dispensed with the silly games…Oh, I’m doing it again aren’t I? That weird tangent thing? Yeah.
It’s not like the game didn’t have it’s high points. The offense was amazing! The Angels hit five homeruns! Five! And Howie Kendrick hit two of them. We hit doubles. We hit triples. Bobby Abreu went five for five. Peter Bourjos went first to home! Have I mentioned before that the kid’s just a little fast? There were a number of truly heroic defensive plays too. Torii’s catch. Maicer’s catch. Jeff Mathis’ tag at the plate. Fleet Pete flying in to bail Vernon Wells out of a jam and keeping two of the runners from scoring, at least.
We scored nine runs for crying out loud! Customarily, when a team scores nine runs, including five homeruns, etc., that team wins…unless our bullpen is involved. So I think you all probably understand why I would rather talk about anything, even that most dreaded of social obligations the baby shower, than about today’s game.
In all seriousness, it’s only four games and the Angels traditionally start out slow. We fans usually spend most of April moaning and groaning about how it’s the end of the world and the Angels usually shape up and then some by May and do well, with occasional bouts of ugly, for the rest of the season. The problem is that last season we didn’t. And, some of the reasons we didn’t are some of the same reasons we just lost three straight to the Royals. I usually don’t call for radical changes in early April but, after last season, spring training and this week, it’s time to call the Scott Kazmir and Fernando Rodney experiments a failure. Bring Matt Palmer back up from the minors and look for a closer. An effective one.
Okay, so nobody actually exchanges cheesy greeting cards for Opening Day, but we really should. Hear me out. Opening Day should absolutely be a national holiday, complete with paid time off from work and the whole nine yards. National pastime, national holiday.
…Yeah my boss, awesome though he is, wasn’t buying it either.
But here’s the thing, what do many national holidays have in common? That’s right, cheesy greeting cards. Hallmark is clearly the power lobby in the holiday business. They have even created holidays just for the purpose of selling more cheesy greeting cards. All we need to do is supply Hallmark with another cheesy greeting card money maker and *poof* I’m telling you, national pastime, national holiday. Seriously. You’re reading this on the internet. So it has to be true, right?
Oh well, cheesy greeting card filled national holiday or not, it’s Opening Day. Very, very early on Opening Day as I post this to be sure, but still. Opening Day! Even if your team doesn’t start playing until tomorrow, if that thought alone doesn’t make you giddy to the point where your smiles and good cheer just come bubbling out at random moments, then I don’t know what would.
Happy Opening Day! Play ball.
It’s about 226 miles to Cambria, we’ve got a full tank of gas, a hot thermos of coffee, it’s dark (and so late it’s nearly early) and we’re not wearing our sunglasses. Hit it.
We’re heading up the coast to meet old college friends for a long weekend in Cambria and Paso Robles – oh yes, there will be wine! …and local micro breweries and gourmet food and live jazz and…yeah, it’s that kind of place. Having finished my half of the driving duties up through Gaviota Pass I am free to blog about baseball for the rest of the ride so long as I keep my husband awake and entertained sharing news articles and your blogs.
The only problem? Ugh! After the news and rumors today I don’t want to blog about baseball. Manny!?! Yes, I know the rumors have been linking his name with the Angels off and on all offseason but now they’re starting to sound serious. I do not want Manny Ramirez on the Angels. I don’t care if he does hit a ton every third season or so. I like baseball players, not drama queens. Let Manny be a diva…er…I mean Manny anywhere else. The thought of Manny in an Angels uniform is enough to make that optimism I was starting to feel dry up again for a while. If they really want to sign an aging DH with no real ability to play the outfield anymore, sign Vladdy please. Professional, clubhouse leader, not a diva bone in his body, swing at anything and hit it more often than anyone rationally should be able to Vladdy.
So enough thinking about baseball for one evening if the rumors only annoy me, right? Okay, then music it is. I just noticed that there is a profound lack of Journey on the radio stations in SLO county this evening. Now anywhere else in the country this would be business as usual. But this year, from the Northern most tip of Santa Barbara up through Paso Robles (and I would assume all the way up the coast to San Francisco) the amount of Journey on the radio stations increased exponentially with the Giants fortunes as the season progressed. The last time we were up here, during the playoffs, Don’t Stop Believin’, Lights and the like were like Law and Order reruns on basic cable – at any given moment, they were playing on at least one station. Not so tonight. This is almost eerie. Can it be they’ve finally tired of it? …Yeah, back to baseball and still annoyed thinking about the Manny rumors. This isn’t working.
Let’s try this again. This is an absolutely gorgeous drive, even late at night. Ocean, forest, orchards, vineyards, plenty of reminders that California is a huge state with far more farms and open spaces than city even still…though that is changing slowly but surely. The cities stretch just a little bit further every year. Driving up here late after work is great because then you don’t eat up four hours of your day off getting to the vacation. The only drawback? Bring your own coffee because, seriously, trying to find decent coffee in Santa Maria or thereabouts after one in the morning is kind of like Mariano Rivera blowing a save. It’s technically possible. You’ve heard of it happening before. It may even have happened once or twice while you were watching. But just how often does it happen really? Yeah, I have a one track mind this evening and this is a lost cause. Okay that’s it. I’m putting this post away and thinking about friends and wine for the rest of the evening…er…morning.
And, of course, what song came on the radio right as I was about to put down the Blackberry? Yep, you guessed it. Uprising by Muse. Haunted I tell you. Well at least it isn’t Don’t Stop Believin’ because even if Giants fans aren’t tired of it, I am.
Have a nice weekend everyone!
They will not force us. They will stop degrading us. They will not control us. We will be victorious.
The Angels are haunting me. Seriously. The lines in italics above? They’re lyrics from the song Uprising by Muse and lately, I hear this song everywhere I go. On the radio at home. In my car. At the office. When I walk into one of our schools. At my favorite local Sushi restaurant – every time I walk in, be if for dine-in or take out. Seriously. Every time. I realize that my local sushi restaurant only has one iPod mix of about 90 minutes in length and this song is included in that mix, but every time? Even when I just stop in to pick up a phone order? Seriously, what are the odds? Yes, the Angels are definitely hunting me.
Perhaps I should explain. This song is played at every Angels game right before the bottom of the 1st inning. I love music and form a strong memory connection to certain songs. My ear will pick up on the background music at restaurants and even in the middle of a loud Vegas casino so, for me, the music played at the ballpark is noticeable and very memorable. Some team songs or walk up music will forever be linked to specific person or team for me. I doubt I will ever hear Guns n’ Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle again without thinking stand back, Mark McGuire’s coming to the plate. Take Me Out to the Ballgame, oddly enough, still has tinges of Dodgers association for me because theirs is the first name I belted out in lieu of “home team” many, many years ago. With other songs, like The Who’s Baba O’Riley, which the Rangers play before each game, I remember the baseball relationship to the song but hearing it doesn’t make me cringe because other memories formed a more powerful association long ago – in this case, listening to my Dad playing records.
Most of the songs played at Angels games have formed a very strong Angels baseball association for me. Train’s Calling All Angels, which is played during the historical highlight reel before the start of every game. Norman Greenbaum’s Spirit in the Sky, which plays as the Angels start to take the field for the first time. And, of course, Uprising. I hear these songs, and I get my inevitable anticipatory goose bumps and chills. Oh, I didn’t mention the goose bumps? Yeah, whenever I know something exceptionally cool is about to happen or I see something creative that is just beautifully done, I get literal goose bumps on my arms, often chills. Previews for a movie based on a book I’ve read or a part of history I’ve studied where they get the scene just right? Concert announcement for a band I’ve been dying to see? New book release from a favorite author? A particularly well done cover song? Witty dialog? Angels game is about to start? Goose bumps in every instance.
So, Uprising plays, or Spirit in the Sky or Calling all Angels, and there I stand, Pavlov’s Angels fan with anticipatory goose bumps on my arms because my ear is absolutely certain that the game’s about to start. But, of course, I know it’s only January and I’m on my way to work, out with friends eating sushi this evening or whatever and I shake my head at my own silliness and sigh. Haunted I tell you. Now where did I put that countdown of the days until pitchers and catchers report? Because I’m sure I calculated something wrong. It’s moving way too slow.
(Editor’s Note: Build Me Up Buttercup is a notable exception to the whole Angels music/goose bumps thing. When that song plays during the 7th inning stretch, I sit down and mull over finding the poor misguided creature whose idea it was to use that song and politely suggesting that they turn in their marketing card. Right now.)
Today this usually lighthearted blogger must post about something serious. Hot Stove Grief or HSG, as the condition is known today, has been afflicting baseball fans for as long as there has been baseball and yet frank discussions of this serious illness have remained taboo until recently. In order to begin to bring comfort to HSG sufferers everywhere and heal the damage and upheaval this condition can cause in their relationships with uncomprehending friends and families, it is important for us all to learn to recognize the symptoms and stages of Hot Stove Grief:
Unrealistic Optimism - HSG sufferers experience a strong hope, bordering on and occasionally crossing over into belief, that their team’s front office will pull off increasingly fantastical free agency signings and trade agreements, often completely unsubstantiated by prior team behavior. Just to pull a completely random example out of thin air, the belief that the Angels were going to sign Carl Crawford, Rafael Soriano and Adrian Beltre this off season, or any combination of two of them. In (also completely random) hindsight, owner Arte Moreno’s end of season comments that the Angels were going to spend big and do whatever it takes to improve the team just underscores the sad fact that Hot Stove Grief does not discriminate. Even baseball owners may suffer from this potentially debilitating condition from time to time.
Bargaining - HSG sufferers begin “bargaining” with the team of their affections, offering the team, its ownership or specific members in the front office the fan’s own services, heirloom jewelry, beloved vehicles, spouses and even theoretical first born children if the team will agree to fulfill the fan’s Hot Stove wishes. Of course, these bargaining conversations never really take place with the team. They are HSG delusions and usually take place in the form of conversations with friends and family, loud rants and begging directed at the television set/radio/newspaper/computer screen and, even, blog posts.
Anger - Eventually the HSG stages progress to anger. This may be the hardest stage for friends and family to deal with and every sufferer expresses it differently. It is important to remain supportive and allow the HSG suffering fan to express his or her feelings. If this becomes too difficult, you might subtly suggest that fan find other outlets to burn off their anger such as boxing, chopping wood or even blogging.
Threats - Many HSG sufferers begin threatening to carry out increasingly unlikely punishments if their team does not comply with the HSG sufferer’s Hot Stove wishes. Common threats include non-renewal of season tickets, never going to see a game again, renouncing one’s fanship entirely, burning prized team related possessions and even starting to root for the team’s most hated rival. As with the bargaining stage, the threat conversations never actually take place with the team in question.
Rationalization - In this stage, HSG sufferers begin to comfort themselves that the reason their team failed to make the Hot Stove move they were hoping for is part of some obscure, larger strategy and that surely an even better Hot Stove deal is imminent. Over indulgence in this stage can bring about a relapse where fans repeat the Anger and Threats stages. While there is some controversy among HSG researchers about whether Rationalization is its own unique stage or is simply one expression of the Unrealistic Optimism stage and the CDC has yet to validate either theory, I feel it warranted its own mention here.
Resignation - As HSG suffering fans begin to reach the end of their grief cycle, they become resigned to the idea that their team isn’t going to make any of the Hot Stove deals they had in mind. While friends and family might think the HSG afflicted fan is suffering less during this stage make no mistake, they are still experiencing a considerable amount of pain. Fans at this stage feel may a slight disconnect with their team and possibly even less passion for them. They may actually view the beginning of the new baseball season with a certain amount of apprehension and even dread. And what could be more painful than that?
Grudging Acceptance - At this stage the HSG suffering fan is still very unhappy with their team’s Hot Stove decisions or lack their of, but has accepted that there is nothing the he or she can do about said decisions and begins to move on. The fan is now able to enjoy interactions with their team again. This is the crucial breakthrough stage in HSG. Once the suffering fan honestly begins to look forward to Spring Training the new season again, the fan is cured. However, relapse is always a possibility.
While friends and family of the HSG afflicted fan should review this outline of the grieving stages carefully, it is important for them to understand that each fan’s grieving process is unique. If you have a friend or loved one who suffers from HSG, the most important thing is to remain loving and supportive. Listen when they want to rant and rave, even if you have heard it all hundreds of times before. Subtly try to involve the sufferer in activities that keep them from pouring over the trade rumors site all day long. But never, under any circumstances, should you try to sever the sufferer’s relationship with their team of choice. However much it may seem like you are doing them a kindness at the time, removing an HSG suffering fan from all contact with their team has been known to produce a severe catatonic state and sometimes even death.
Thank you very much for your time today. I now return you to your regularly scheduled MLBlogs programming.
Well that was a little longer in between posts than intended! No, the reason was not actually Hot Stove Grief. I have managed my personal bout with this illness admirably – made it to work every day, attended social functions and everything! Besides, I am coming to the end of my personal Hot Stove Grief. Barring any unforeseen set backs *glares at Angels Front Office* grudging acceptance is just around the corner. No, I have been putting in late nights and wee hours of the mornings all week finishing the latest stage in a policy writing project for work. Work – curse of the drinking (and apparently blogging) classes and all that.
The Rangers signed Beltre, except for the fact that they didn’t. That was totally a rumor. No wait, new rumors from more credible sources say that it’s the second rumor that was only a rumor. Beltre is signing on the Rangers’ dotted line right now. But wait, no. The people who are responsible for the rumor that the rumor about the first rumor being only a rumor was really just a rumor too, are now also guilty of spreading a rumor. Moose bites hurt. A lot. And now for something completely different…
This is the Hot Stove news I read on my Blackberry as we left a family holiday party this evening. And, yes, because I came in on the tail end of all of the rumor and counter rumor, to me it really did sound that Python-esque. The final word on all of the rumors? According to MLB.com, the Rangers do not have a deal with Beltre, nor is a deal imminent. The article goes on to quote Nolan Ryan this evening saying “As of right now, Michael Young is our third baseman. We haven’t done anything.” While I tend to think that, with Young’s bat and glove at third base, the Rangers wouldn’t really be interested in Beltre at this price, I did notice that Ryan’s no isn’t exactly a long term no and it’s not like the Rangers haven’t asked Young to switch positions for someone else before. I believe that MLB.com’s article is the final word on Beltre and the Rangers today but Monday? Tuesday? Wednesday? Next week? Who knows.
The family holiday party this evening was our annual post Christmas get together with my mother’s side of the family. The Giants cousins come down from Merced and Fresno and the Dodgers cousins come from all over L.A. and Orange County and then there are my husband and I. Surprisingly, baseball is not usually a big topic of conversation. This year, of course, it was not to be avoided.
I was pleased to see one cousin from Merced whom I have not seen in about two years because he’s been very ill. He’s recently recovered almost completely. “Oh I’m feeling so much better and it’s the strangest thing. Do you know what the turning point was? Game 6!” I had to laugh and congratulate him, of course. And that was pretty much the tone for the evening. My cousins are still so ecstatic and cute over the Giants win that I can’t help but be happy for them all over again. Of course, they’re still a little chip on their shoulders over the Giants’ champion status. Mentions of the Angels or 2002 still bring about hissing – yes, literal hissing – and a chorus of too soon, too soon. They’re a little sensitive about the Dodgers rivalry too, all of which kept me in stitches for large portions of the evening.
My dad picked up on this, I think, because during a discussion about baseball announcers, he pounced. One cousin mentioned that he likes the Giants radio announcers so much, he will gladly put up with the delay in order to hear the radio broadcast while he watches the game muted on TV. My father got this mischievous twinkle in eye and said that, over the years, he’s done the same thing with Vin Scully’s broadcasts…after the Dodgers beat the Giants and head into the post season. My cousin started to sputter angrily about the Dodgers bad season and how he expects the same from them next year and so on, until he realized everyone else was cracking up on both sides of the fan divide, including my father. Then the conversation became playful and teasing again. You simply can’t let family get your goat that easily.
I may have been laughing the loudest of anyone. I don’t think I have ever seen my father talk trash before. But he and my mother were high school sweethearts so he has known all of these cousins, her cousins, since they were in high school and, in some cases, much, much younger. I think I just got a tiny glimpse of what they were all like getting together as kids and that was neat to see. Family and baseball both have the power to take even the most grown up among us back to the carefree silliness of our childhood and thank Heaven for that!
I would like to wish a very Merry Christmas, the happiest of holidays and best wishes for the New Year to all of you out there in the blogosphere, readers and writers alike!
So, taking a glance around the blogs, it appears that writing a parody of The Night Before Christmas isn’t exactly the most original idea I’ve ever had…as I probably should have suspected in community of writers, LOL. You all make me smile, a lot. Anyway, here are my lines to add to the chorus:
T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Only Blithescribe was stirring with laptop and mouse.
The stockings were draped from the bookshelves with care,
Because we don’t have a real chimney, so we hang them there.
In the armchair I nestled, snuggled with pillows and cats,
Perusing MLBlogs for new posts and great stats.
While my husband lay sleeping, on the couch by the tree,
Because really, hands down, he’s much smarter than me.
When outside our house, there arose such a clatter,
That I ran to the door to see what was the matter.
And what did I see on our porch clear as day?
Would you believe it was Santa with reindeer and sleigh?
“Only seven reindeer, Santa? Is one of them late?
I could be mistaken, but I’ve read you use eight.”
“Oh, that. Minor accident in Arkansas, you see.
He’s still on my good list, but no presents for Cliff Lee!”
Shocked and surprised, I invited Santa inside.
“I thought you were a myth. Clearly somebody lied.”
He smiled, “I get that a lot and, yet, I am here.”
“So, cookies and milk? Or can I get you a beer?”
While I got the drinks, Santa skimmed through the blogs,
And my husband remained on the couch sawing logs.
“Hot Stove is insane this year,” Santa said with a smirk.
“On Crawford, on Lee, on Soriano and Werth?
Seven years is too crazy for me to understand.”
So Santa Claus is real and a big baseball fan!
After beer and bourbon, Santa’s a right jolly old elf,
So I poured a glass of Maker’s Mark for myself.
“Thank you,” Santa said, “for the drinks and good rest.
This gets harder every time, I have to confess.
So little girl, what can Santa give you this year?”
That would have sounded dirty were it not meant with good cheer.
“Well you’re a little late Santa” I said, quite bereft.
“I wanted bats for the Angels and Crawford in left.”
“Carl Crawford, you say? Yeah, I’m sorry about him.”
“Santa, say it ain’t so! You gave Crawford to them.”
Santa pulled up his sleeve with a sheepish little grin,
To reveal a B-shaped tattoo, right there on his skin.
“Dustin left us for baseball. I couldn’t help myself.
North Polers stick together. I root for the elf”
That explains everything! Santa’s a Red Sox fan.
Well they do have red stockings and cute toy sized stands.
“Okay, Angels season tickets would simply be heaven.
One pair? Home side field box? Say section 111?”
He had a broad face and a round little belly,
That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
“That’s hilarious Blithescribe,” he laughed as he stood.
“Seriously, lady? You think you’ve been that good?”
Instead he gave me books. Fourteen all in a stack,
Two for each week ’til my birthday, just like in years back!
I giggled like a child and clapped my hands with glee.
Books were always the best present underneath the tree.
Then Santa had to leave, with more countries still to go,
I hugged him thank you, as he headed out our door.
And I heard him exclaim as he leapt from our porch,
Merry Christmas to all, only 51 days ’til pitchers and catchers report!
Christmas is just around the corner and at my house that means we’ve been making candy for three days…yes, even while it’s raining cats and dogs. What can I say? We’re brave and we’ve been getting more than passable results by adjusting the times and temperatures slightly. Anyway, watching and swirling pot after napalm like pot of boiling sugar and butter, waiting for that magic second when it achieves optimum caramel color and that heavenly smell begins to permeate the room, a mere second and a half at most before it begins to burn, gives one a lot of time to think…Maybe it’s just the sugar rush talking, but it occurs to me that building a winning baseball team, one that can make it to the postseason and win the World Series, bears some resemblance to the process I have just repeated many times in the last several days.
Candy making is both an exact and an inexact science. You have a set list of ingredients, precise ratios for those ingredients and highly specific directions to follow with regards to cooking times, stirring procedures and temperatures. Follow the recipe exactly and you get a winning result every single time…except when you don’t. Slight changes in humidity, the freshness of the ingredients, water quality, a nick in your pan, all can lead to bad results – poor consistency, candy that won’t harden or goes straight to the burned stage. And Lord help you if a sugar crystal drops into the mix at the wrong moment! And the best part? You can’t predict the degree to which any of these things will matter or even if they will matter at all until the moment you are making the candy. Sometimes cooking it longer will combat the high humidity of a heavy rainstorm. Other times, even slightly raised humidity is impossible to overcome.
Everyone knows the ingredients needed for a winning baseball team – a great starting rotation, a reliable bullpen complete with an effective closer, hot bats, a high OPS and fantastic gloves and arms on defense. But what is the perfect ratio? Theories abound – great starters that go deep make a reliable bullpen less necessary, you can have adequate pitching as long as you have a team of hitters, you can have low OPS as long as you have a killer starting rotation, and so on. But for every theory you will find plenty of World Series Winning examples to contradict it. I would argue that team chemistry can play a huge rule in determining which teams make it to the postseason, but others would disagree and teams with lousy chemistry have certainly managed to achieve that feat before (the 2002 Giants, for example).
And this is before you even get to all of the external factors – the other teams’ abilities, ownership/financial issues, heck, even the weather. Apparently rain affects everything! And what about injuries, that greatest and most hated of all equalizers? Sometimes injuries have little effect (In 2010? The Rangers.), other times there is no hope for team recovery without the injured player (In 2010? The Angels.) or in light of a cascade of injuries (In 2010? The Red Sox.).
My point is simply this, we can guess predict the outcome of a season all we want but it is impossible to really know until we get there. There are just entirely too many variables. In light of recent acquisitions, the prevailing theory is that the Phillies and the Red Sox are certain to meet up in the World Series. I’m not saying it’s not possible. Both have the makings of frightening opponents next year and some years the more popular predictions do come to pass. Other years, you have a World Series matchup between the Giants and the Rangers. And who were some of the favored predictions last year? Well, the Philllies and the Mariners come to mind…With an off season that’s already been full of surprises, the one prediction I feel certain of is that the 2011 season will be anything but dull.
Meanwhile, I sit here nibbling on a piece of near perfect pine nut brittle that should, by all rights, have failed to become brittle…purely for quality control purposes I assure you
Ho hum, no big Thanksgiving announcements. Not that I was really expecting anything this soon, but hey, a girl can dream. Between the few bits of real news we have seen, the tantalizing but vague hints of information we get from unnamed sources, the endless fan speculation and the dissonant chorus and counter melody of all of us bloggers shouting sign him, he’ll take us back to the playoffs and no, don’t sign him, he’s an overpaid two season wonder, this all starts to sound like some sort of bizarre Hot Stove Bye, Bye Birdie…with Tony Reagins as Harvey Johnson to me:
What’s the story? Has anyone signed?
I heard the contract got inked?
Did he really sign?
Hello Mr. Crawford, this is Tony Reagins. Is Carl home?
The contract’s not inked?
What do you mean, are they crazy?
I was hoping he would!
Hello Mrs. Beltre, this is Tony Reagins. May I speak to Andre please?
They’ll be Angels forever!
I hope it won’t last.
Hey have you heard any news?
And I am right in there with every other Angels fan, reading every scrap of information I can get, speculating, hoping, worrying, whining, contributing my own little voice to the noise. Oh well, apparently we aren’t going to get another huge late November Torii Hunter level announcement this year…or are we? *crosses fingers*
Well, for the rest of today I have a decidedly less metaphorical hot stove in mind: Turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, creamed spinach, roasted butternut squash, cranberry relish and a corn bread dressing with sausage, apples and cranberries for 10, oh my! Not that I am complaining. I love the cooking and the entertaining and so does my husband. No, like the Time Warp’s pelvic thrust, it’s the dishes that really drive you insane.