Ten years ago, I went to sleep after watching the end of the 8th inning of the 2001 World Series. That was the World Series when the Yankees were playing to win back happiness from the depths of post 9/11 depression that existed in NYC. I'm not a Yankees fan, and I never thought about that aspect during the series - just that they wouldn't 4peat. When I woke up, I found that they lost and I was in jubiliation at the Diamondbacks victory. I made sure that I made any Yankee fan who crossed my path suffer for Rivera's defeat at the hands of Luis Gonzalez's bloop single. In the end, I never thought I could wake up to better news.
About 2 weeks ago, I watched 9 Innings at Ground Zero and was visibly moved by the aspect of baseball bringing America together (from Bush's World Series first pitch to Jeter's heroics to the Mets captivating America by making a run for their own pennant). Much of it is very powerful. It's actually impossibly to watch without tears, but it takes us back to an America that hasn't existed since the great partisan divide of the Iraq War (for better or for worse).
Today, I woke up to much better news - Osama was dead. It turned out that if I stayed up another half hour or so, I would have heard the news as the reporters broke into it. Nevertheless, I wanted to shout "USA, USA, USA" like the hordes of joyous celebration at West Point, in the subways, in Times Square, and from the Philadelphia / Mets game. It was about 615 and my wife was still asleep, but I wanted to wake her up to tell her, but she still had about an hour before her alarm clock was set to go off, so I split it down the middle and told her at 645. When I did, she asked me if something was wrong, and all I could say was "we killed Bin Laden. The most wanted terrorist in the world was now dead, and everything had changed. The air of celebrations hit home. And with that, in many ways, it was like America came together again - save a few comments from anonymous You Tube posters and the like speculating conspiracy or judging whether it was hypocritcal to kill a mass murderer for murdering our people.
In the hindsight of a million news stories, I have to admit that there were times that I wondered if we'd ever get him. Years and years of wondering why Bush was failing and finally Obama made it a point to get him, and somehow, we got the intel to make it happen, and I have to say that I'm just glad that we did.
In the classes that I taught today, we briefly looked at all of the headlines from all of the major news sources, the blog sites (Huffington Post and Townhall), and Al Jazeera (Arab news network). It's interesting to see the difference, to see the words of Obama (we watched him on You Tube), and to contemplate what Bush would have done. It's amazing to think about how things have changed, and as I sit here, there are scary things, too.
I called my parents to tell them it happened, and they knew. My mom was reflecting on how they're quacks over there and would do something while wondering about the need for celebration ("but this was how it was at the end of World War 2"). I know that there will be some semblance of retaliation. We must be ever vigilant to that... we're not in a 9/10 world anymore, but that said... there is something powerful about the moment... the change.
Ayman al-Zawahiri is still out there. There are plenty of lunatics ready to make jihad and suffering on the West. The war has not been won (or lost) and yet there are people who will contemplate what we should do now that Bin Laden has finally died.
Sometimes, the world just becomes too real for sports. One has to wonder about all of the changes and events of the weekend and stop and think... to find time to enjoy the simple things, but all the same, to pause and reflect and remember our history and our future.
And to remain ever mindful.
Showing posts with label Luis Gonzalez. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Luis Gonzalez. Show all posts
Monday, May 2, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Jose Bautista
So let's think about this... Vernon Wells almost sinks the Blue Jays franchise with his contract. Fortunately, a desperate Angels team takes him off of their hands. Alex Rios takes big money to perform north of the border, and he sucks it up so badly that the team basically gives him away to the White Sox. He still doesn't perform well.
Shawn Green, Carlos Delgado, and Roger Clemens leave the team to get bigger money elsewhere. In some small way, not paying any of of these guys was a good decision. Sure, Clemens had many great years, but they were all ALLEGEDLY steroid enhanced, so...
Why now? Why pay Jose Bautista out on a long contract? Is it because he had his swing together last year and connected for 54 round trippers? Since 2004, he has hit 113 home runs. That means that in the past, there 5 more home runs that twice his last year total in 6 years. Year 7, he gets it together and excels. Now, he gets rewarded big time.
In his career, he has been rejected by Tampa Bay in the bad old days, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, and Kansas City. Do you think that if he had promise and upside, someone would have noticed it on one of those sucky teams and say, hmm... let's keep him around for a while or trade him to someone good for their sort of prospects that can be billed as larger than life (because teams like the Yankees never give that good of prospects).
Last year, Bautista got his 54 dingers for a .260 batting average. He whiffed 116 times. In his career, he has whiffed 550 times in 2,323 at bats. That's pretty much once a game. We'll assume his RBIs aren't worth mentioning due to his poor teams, but still... 54 home runs and 124 RBIs in a show off season... hmm...
Does this remind people of Luis Gonzalez and his meteoric rise to fame in the midst of the steroid era? Sure, we love the hit I never saw live in 2001, but other than that... he was forgotten when baseball cleared out its past offenders.
Andruw Jones once cleared 50 as well. Where is he now? Oh, that's right. The Yankees signed him and every other player who hasn't been good since the early 2000s. While he could really rake home runs, he hasn't been solid at the plate in his last 4 years, and now, he's only getting older and older and older. Hell, the dude seems older than Helen Hunt looks these days. And perhaps it's not all about age, but girth and range were a problem for him. In short, he may be trying to get it together again, but is he worth the possibility of greatness when paid big time?
Sure, Bautista doesn't seem like he'll be loading up on Dunkin Donuts, but still... possibility for one good season?
And lest we not forget Greg Vaughn's 50 in 1998 (when everyone hit yard because chicks dig the long ball) and Brady Anderson's 50 in 1996 (when that still seemed like an accomplishment).
Are they worth 5 years and $65million?
If so, please let me know because I'll stop teaching and start weight training because a 39 year old rookie who never played baseball past B ball in little league really wants a shot at some real money. Heaven knows, the "real money" is not in teaching - unless you're a union guy in Wisconsin and you think you can strong arm the tax payers and the law to keep all of your pay when everyone else is making sacrifices in a bad economy - just because you "educate the youth of America" (some better than others - both students and teachers' faults).
But alas... I digress.
Shawn Green, Carlos Delgado, and Roger Clemens leave the team to get bigger money elsewhere. In some small way, not paying any of of these guys was a good decision. Sure, Clemens had many great years, but they were all ALLEGEDLY steroid enhanced, so...
Why now? Why pay Jose Bautista out on a long contract? Is it because he had his swing together last year and connected for 54 round trippers? Since 2004, he has hit 113 home runs. That means that in the past, there 5 more home runs that twice his last year total in 6 years. Year 7, he gets it together and excels. Now, he gets rewarded big time.
In his career, he has been rejected by Tampa Bay in the bad old days, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, and Kansas City. Do you think that if he had promise and upside, someone would have noticed it on one of those sucky teams and say, hmm... let's keep him around for a while or trade him to someone good for their sort of prospects that can be billed as larger than life (because teams like the Yankees never give that good of prospects).
Last year, Bautista got his 54 dingers for a .260 batting average. He whiffed 116 times. In his career, he has whiffed 550 times in 2,323 at bats. That's pretty much once a game. We'll assume his RBIs aren't worth mentioning due to his poor teams, but still... 54 home runs and 124 RBIs in a show off season... hmm...
Does this remind people of Luis Gonzalez and his meteoric rise to fame in the midst of the steroid era? Sure, we love the hit I never saw live in 2001, but other than that... he was forgotten when baseball cleared out its past offenders.
Andruw Jones once cleared 50 as well. Where is he now? Oh, that's right. The Yankees signed him and every other player who hasn't been good since the early 2000s. While he could really rake home runs, he hasn't been solid at the plate in his last 4 years, and now, he's only getting older and older and older. Hell, the dude seems older than Helen Hunt looks these days. And perhaps it's not all about age, but girth and range were a problem for him. In short, he may be trying to get it together again, but is he worth the possibility of greatness when paid big time?
Sure, Bautista doesn't seem like he'll be loading up on Dunkin Donuts, but still... possibility for one good season?
And lest we not forget Greg Vaughn's 50 in 1998 (when everyone hit yard because chicks dig the long ball) and Brady Anderson's 50 in 1996 (when that still seemed like an accomplishment).
Are they worth 5 years and $65million?
If so, please let me know because I'll stop teaching and start weight training because a 39 year old rookie who never played baseball past B ball in little league really wants a shot at some real money. Heaven knows, the "real money" is not in teaching - unless you're a union guy in Wisconsin and you think you can strong arm the tax payers and the law to keep all of your pay when everyone else is making sacrifices in a bad economy - just because you "educate the youth of America" (some better than others - both students and teachers' faults).
But alas... I digress.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Ross Ohlendorf
I've said before; I'll say it again. There is no way that baseball money is real. As I continue to look for gainful PART TIME employment to contemplate my 3/4 time employment in the educational world, I see that Ross Ohlendorf's win loss record is truly as deceptive as... well, not quite Nolan Ryan difference, but let's say better than league average as he floats with a 4.05 ERA in his role of the King of non-support.
To think that a pitcher who is 1-11 can get a nearly $2million raise from roughly league minimum ($435,000) to just over $2million is quite a dream and it would definitely make Horatio Alger proud. However, in a celebration of getting one over on Pittsburgh with a little help from the arbitration team, we take a look at some other great losers who got to hang out a little longer due to the tangible things that aren't told by a win loss record.
Hall of Famer Steve Carlton in 1973 went 13-20 for the Phillies. Phil Neikro fared a little better in 1979 as he won 21 for Atlanta while losing 20.
Mike Maroth may have lost 20 for the 2003 Tigers, but his 9 wins were more than 20% of his teams 43 TOTAL wins. This does a lot to stop the bleeding (or at least provide a healthy dose of morphine) for a team that pretty much stank up the whole place until they convinced Ivan Rodriguez that a lot of money can rebuild a team, which is true because it took the Tigers from last in 03 to the World Series losers in 06.
Prior to that, in 1980, Brian Kingman was 8-20 for an Oakland team that wasn't that bad (they had a winning record), but they just couldn't win for Kingman who posted a sub 4 ERA in spite of the lack of love he was shown from his teammates.
Denny McClain was the last 30 game winner (31) in 1968 and led the league in wins the following year, but by 1971, he was washed up when he got his 20 losses.
Louis Tiant was a 20 game loser in 1969, but he became a dominant force for Boston a few years later. Everyone forgot that Mel Stottlemyre was a 20 game loser as he became a Yankee pitching coach. Hall of Famer Robin Roberts also lost 20, but he still won nearly 300 for his career.
And if misery loves company, let us not forget that 2 of the 5 greatest pitchers in baseball history (Walter Johnson and Cy Young) have 20 stapled to their otherwise incredible records. Then again, this was a time where losing 20 seemed to be all but expected.
So perhaps if the Pittsburgh fire sale comes around this year, maybe bright lights will beam down and escort Ohlendorf to a team that can get him at least 5 runs a game. Who knows? He could be a 10-game winner!
To think that a pitcher who is 1-11 can get a nearly $2million raise from roughly league minimum ($435,000) to just over $2million is quite a dream and it would definitely make Horatio Alger proud. However, in a celebration of getting one over on Pittsburgh with a little help from the arbitration team, we take a look at some other great losers who got to hang out a little longer due to the tangible things that aren't told by a win loss record.
Hall of Famer Steve Carlton in 1973 went 13-20 for the Phillies. Phil Neikro fared a little better in 1979 as he won 21 for Atlanta while losing 20.
Mike Maroth may have lost 20 for the 2003 Tigers, but his 9 wins were more than 20% of his teams 43 TOTAL wins. This does a lot to stop the bleeding (or at least provide a healthy dose of morphine) for a team that pretty much stank up the whole place until they convinced Ivan Rodriguez that a lot of money can rebuild a team, which is true because it took the Tigers from last in 03 to the World Series losers in 06.
Prior to that, in 1980, Brian Kingman was 8-20 for an Oakland team that wasn't that bad (they had a winning record), but they just couldn't win for Kingman who posted a sub 4 ERA in spite of the lack of love he was shown from his teammates.
Denny McClain was the last 30 game winner (31) in 1968 and led the league in wins the following year, but by 1971, he was washed up when he got his 20 losses.
Louis Tiant was a 20 game loser in 1969, but he became a dominant force for Boston a few years later. Everyone forgot that Mel Stottlemyre was a 20 game loser as he became a Yankee pitching coach. Hall of Famer Robin Roberts also lost 20, but he still won nearly 300 for his career.
And if misery loves company, let us not forget that 2 of the 5 greatest pitchers in baseball history (Walter Johnson and Cy Young) have 20 stapled to their otherwise incredible records. Then again, this was a time where losing 20 seemed to be all but expected.
So perhaps if the Pittsburgh fire sale comes around this year, maybe bright lights will beam down and escort Ohlendorf to a team that can get him at least 5 runs a game. Who knows? He could be a 10-game winner!
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Addie Joss
The first time I saw Almost Famous, I was with my ex-girlfriend what feels like a million years and a million lifetimes ago. I don't remember thinking much of it at the time, but I came to love it shortly after she left. It wasn't pining over her. I can really only think of 2 incidents of pining over her in the time that she left - the first time was the first time that she was gone and it was just myself and her cat Tornado. She left us both. She had to have him, and she seemed happy to tag along into my life, but then when she got there, we realized that we were from different worlds. At that minute, it was just myself and the cat and it felt bizarre and depressing to be in that spot. Eventually, I had her take the cat, which she begrudgingly did.
The second time, I was in the midst of the depressed summer of 2002 after we broke up in April and I had too much time with my loneliness, and I went to drop off mail that had arrived for her at the apartment that we shared, but that was now only mine. In all the things the things that she did and didn't do in that time, it took me to change her addresses for her by returning stuff to the sender and posting the right address to forward things to. That time, I suggested we get together to talk, but we never did, which was a good thing. She got her mail, just like she got a box of stuff that was once hers. I always thought that she would come back for her Christmas stuff, but that was just wishful thinking. Our only Christmas together was miserable. In the end, I gave it to the woman who oversaw the apartments for her kid and threw away what she would never want. It seemed so wasteful at the time, but alas, sometimes, it's for the best.
In the movie Almost Famous, Elton John sings "Tiny Dancer," which is one of the greatest songs ever. At the time in March of 2001, I can remember listening to it and liking it, but I didn't really claim it as one of my own until it played at the right moment of my life - hiking back from Delicate Arch in Utah. It was in the same fateful walk that Elf Power's "When the Red King Comes" played. They were both mine. I never think of the ex girlfriend or things belonging to her other than Dave Matthews and The Barenaked Ladies, which I can differentiate from her in that other than when I consciously force myself to, I never think of her. There's no reason to. We never had anything much in common and our greatest moments were things that I've pretty much done with other people or that weren't that memorable to begin with - at least in the way that almost 9 years makes a person forget what happened.
However, I do think back to Almost Famous because I love the quote that is at the end where William Miller, the Cameron Crowe character asks Russell Hammond what he likes about rock music. The answer is "to begin with everything."
I think that I could answer the same thing about baseball. Everything. The game never disappoints me. If Aaron Boone hits a home run over the Green Monster in extra innings and I'm up until the wee hours hoping that the Red Sox make it to the World Series in 2003, then it's just a moment in communal misery that still says, "we'll get them next year."
If I choose to go to bed after the Arizona Diamondbacks can't score in the 8th inning of Game 7 of the 2001 World Series and it looks like the Yankees will 4-peat, then I can wake up happy when I see ESPN's headline that a bloop single wins and it's instant jubilation and the need to make Yankees fans suffer.
For me, baseball is everything... the trajectory of a long fly ball to deep center field in the St. Louis night. August 30, 1998, marks a change in everything that I am and that I will be. It signals that I have come to the promised land, and I have seen my burning bush. My heart is not hardened, but it is actually made light because I have been shown direction in life by the plague of locusts (well, Mormon crickets) that have descended on the desert north of Fallon, Nevada. From North Nutgrass, Stillwater Reservoir, Foxtail Lake and all of the other water that lies east of Route 95 heading south into Nevada's heartland, they swarm and die against my windshield and the hood of my Ford Escort. Uncle Tupelo's music plays after I refuel my car with gasoline and my body with Coke and iced animal cookies. Good stuff. I am to teach. I am to go about my journey and become something more.
For 12 plus years, I have prepared and done just that. Every time that I think it's time to get out, something rescues me and keeps me moving forward. Every time that I think it's not going to work out, something keeps me moving forward. Like much of my life, I have proceeded forward in spite of my mistakes and the turmoil of life, but I have kept going.
In reading about my baseball heroes, I see tales of lives that were destroyed and ended before they could fully realize what they might have been. I have seen great careers cut short of being the greatest. Bob Feller and Ted Williams gave the early parts of their career to military service for their country. Christy Mathewson did as well, but his was to an earlier war, but all the same, he trained and swallowed mustard gas. He was never the same. Roberto Clemente hit his 3,000th hit and died in a fiery airplane crash trying to get relief supplies to Nicaragua. Jackie Robinson gave his life to the stress and turmoil of integrating the Major Leagues with the players of the Negro Leagues so no more African Americans would have to lose out to what might have been. And Addie Joss died of spinal meningitis not 3 years after pitching a perfect game and a no-hitter. He was 31. He could have been great.
So many people could have.
And yes, they are immortalized in hallowed grounds on Lake Oswego. I can see them there. I can remember their lives and what could have been.
I sit here now and think of what could have been in my life. Where once I taught high school kids, I moved on to college students and adult education. I said that I would never go back, but here I am now, ready to go back and be great again, to feel the things that I once loved about this all over again. To feel the mix of history, literature, and writing all come together into something special for me and to make them something special in students as I once did. To feel comfortable in my skin and my classroom. To exorcise the demons of failure once and for all.
It's time to think that my life is ready to be.
If I have baseball to thank for that, then all the better for the ghosts of the past are still powerful and still have much to teach us.
The second time, I was in the midst of the depressed summer of 2002 after we broke up in April and I had too much time with my loneliness, and I went to drop off mail that had arrived for her at the apartment that we shared, but that was now only mine. In all the things the things that she did and didn't do in that time, it took me to change her addresses for her by returning stuff to the sender and posting the right address to forward things to. That time, I suggested we get together to talk, but we never did, which was a good thing. She got her mail, just like she got a box of stuff that was once hers. I always thought that she would come back for her Christmas stuff, but that was just wishful thinking. Our only Christmas together was miserable. In the end, I gave it to the woman who oversaw the apartments for her kid and threw away what she would never want. It seemed so wasteful at the time, but alas, sometimes, it's for the best.
In the movie Almost Famous, Elton John sings "Tiny Dancer," which is one of the greatest songs ever. At the time in March of 2001, I can remember listening to it and liking it, but I didn't really claim it as one of my own until it played at the right moment of my life - hiking back from Delicate Arch in Utah. It was in the same fateful walk that Elf Power's "When the Red King Comes" played. They were both mine. I never think of the ex girlfriend or things belonging to her other than Dave Matthews and The Barenaked Ladies, which I can differentiate from her in that other than when I consciously force myself to, I never think of her. There's no reason to. We never had anything much in common and our greatest moments were things that I've pretty much done with other people or that weren't that memorable to begin with - at least in the way that almost 9 years makes a person forget what happened.
However, I do think back to Almost Famous because I love the quote that is at the end where William Miller, the Cameron Crowe character asks Russell Hammond what he likes about rock music. The answer is "to begin with everything."
I think that I could answer the same thing about baseball. Everything. The game never disappoints me. If Aaron Boone hits a home run over the Green Monster in extra innings and I'm up until the wee hours hoping that the Red Sox make it to the World Series in 2003, then it's just a moment in communal misery that still says, "we'll get them next year."
If I choose to go to bed after the Arizona Diamondbacks can't score in the 8th inning of Game 7 of the 2001 World Series and it looks like the Yankees will 4-peat, then I can wake up happy when I see ESPN's headline that a bloop single wins and it's instant jubilation and the need to make Yankees fans suffer.
For me, baseball is everything... the trajectory of a long fly ball to deep center field in the St. Louis night. August 30, 1998, marks a change in everything that I am and that I will be. It signals that I have come to the promised land, and I have seen my burning bush. My heart is not hardened, but it is actually made light because I have been shown direction in life by the plague of locusts (well, Mormon crickets) that have descended on the desert north of Fallon, Nevada. From North Nutgrass, Stillwater Reservoir, Foxtail Lake and all of the other water that lies east of Route 95 heading south into Nevada's heartland, they swarm and die against my windshield and the hood of my Ford Escort. Uncle Tupelo's music plays after I refuel my car with gasoline and my body with Coke and iced animal cookies. Good stuff. I am to teach. I am to go about my journey and become something more.
For 12 plus years, I have prepared and done just that. Every time that I think it's time to get out, something rescues me and keeps me moving forward. Every time that I think it's not going to work out, something keeps me moving forward. Like much of my life, I have proceeded forward in spite of my mistakes and the turmoil of life, but I have kept going.
In reading about my baseball heroes, I see tales of lives that were destroyed and ended before they could fully realize what they might have been. I have seen great careers cut short of being the greatest. Bob Feller and Ted Williams gave the early parts of their career to military service for their country. Christy Mathewson did as well, but his was to an earlier war, but all the same, he trained and swallowed mustard gas. He was never the same. Roberto Clemente hit his 3,000th hit and died in a fiery airplane crash trying to get relief supplies to Nicaragua. Jackie Robinson gave his life to the stress and turmoil of integrating the Major Leagues with the players of the Negro Leagues so no more African Americans would have to lose out to what might have been. And Addie Joss died of spinal meningitis not 3 years after pitching a perfect game and a no-hitter. He was 31. He could have been great.
So many people could have.
And yes, they are immortalized in hallowed grounds on Lake Oswego. I can see them there. I can remember their lives and what could have been.
I sit here now and think of what could have been in my life. Where once I taught high school kids, I moved on to college students and adult education. I said that I would never go back, but here I am now, ready to go back and be great again, to feel the things that I once loved about this all over again. To feel the mix of history, literature, and writing all come together into something special for me and to make them something special in students as I once did. To feel comfortable in my skin and my classroom. To exorcise the demons of failure once and for all.
It's time to think that my life is ready to be.
If I have baseball to thank for that, then all the better for the ghosts of the past are still powerful and still have much to teach us.
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