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About Jackie, The Baseball Bloggess

Loves the 4-6-3 and the serial comma. All baseball is good baseball, but when the Orioles or UVa 'Hoo's take the field, it's great baseball. Baseball historian ... because baseball touches everything. www.thebaseballbloggess.com And, for the Yoga ... www.peacefulhands.com

Tending The Baseball Garden

I think one of the most perfect things about baseball is the way it mirrors the seasons.

Hope springs eternal in the springtime! The time for digging up the old flower bed, tending some returning plants, putting a few new seeds in the ground.  A little water, a little sunlight, a little weeding, a little hope.

The energy is fresh and it’s so wonderful to be outside working up the soil. What emerges? Fresh arugula or a young Mike Trout in the outfield, depending on which garden you’re tending.

Then comes summer … the fruits of one’s labors. If the ground was good, if the water was plentiful, if you worked hard … oh, what an amazing garden you can have. In garden terms, the tomatoes are bountiful and delicious. In baseball terms, this means you’re winning.  (A mangy, unfriendly groundhog eats your tomatoes? Your starting pitcher goes on the DL. Kinda, sorta the same thing.)

But, 162 games is a long, long, long growing season.

And, so now here we are in the fall. So tired. So tired of weeding. So tired of tending. So tired of zucchini. Everything is getting old and leggy and limp.  And, we’re trying to coax just one more week – just one more win – out of that tired tomato plant with the worn out shoulder-vine.

Oh sure, you toss in a few lettuce seeds in late August to see what might sprout up and carry you through the last weeks of the growing season.  (Manny Machado, Dylan Bundy? Hear that? You’re the fall lettuce of the Orioles.)

Mostly, though, you’re just trying to squeak out the last bit of life from a worn-out garden. You’re sort of getting tired of watching the garden, but you still want to savor every last minute you have left with it.

You keep cutting back the basil because where will you be in December when it’s only a distant memory?  You’ll be wishing for that basil plant, that’s where. So you cheer on that basil plant, and you clip those seed heads and you remind it that it’s only one game back of the Yankees.

I’m still working on how the World Series fits into the garden. To be honest, as an Orioles’ fan, it’s been years since I’ve had to think about how one extends a season into October.

But, how about this …

Maybe the World Series is a giant pumpkin that’s been hiding in the weeds, only to “pop” out all orange and huge and brilliant when the knee-high weeds finally die back on their own. It’s the culmination of a long, long season … and a lot of hard work by a pumpkin that started out as a hopeful seed just a few months ago.

Yeh, ok, that’ll do. If a giant pumpkin pops out of my dying garden in the next couple weeks, that would be the equivalent of the Orioles going to the World Series. It would also be a little strange because we didn’t plant pumpkins. (But, that doesn’t mean I give up hope for the Orioles.)

And then, next thing you know, it will be cold and dark and the garden will grow quiet.

As winter comes, you swear that was the last time you’ll spend every free moment in the garden. You swear that you’ll never put in such a big garden again. You swear that it’s too much work and you’re done with gardening. Forever.

But, then after a little well-deserved little rest, the seed catalogs start showing up in the mail. And, then on one very dreary, snowy day, when you’re missing the basil, just like I told you would happen, you pick up a catalog and start dreaming of your spring garden … and then you wonder how the boys did in the off-season, and you start counting the days until pitchers and catchers report.

But, it’s not quite winter yet. So, for today … with just 10 games left, I’m cutting back the basil and cheering for the Orioles and the jalapeño peppers, both of which seem to be particularly hot and sassy this year.

And, hoping for a pumpkin.

Want to carve your own Oriole Pumpkin?  Click here for the stencil.

This blurry photo is from 2011. To give the Baltimore Orioles’ bird something to do in October, I attempted to carve my very first pumpkin. If the Orioles go to the post-season this year, I will carve a much finer Oriole pumpkin. Oscar the cat, by the way, is 20. He was 5 when the Orioles last made it into the post-season.

Riff-Raff

There’s this saying they have in North Dakota: “Thirty below keeps the riff-raff out.”  I’m sure you may have your own variations out where you are.

For the record, I did my North Dakota time. You may now consider me proof that 30-below temperatures will cause some – call me riff-raff, whatever – to flee.

So, I’m reading the new Rolling Stone (and I highly recommend the interview with Bob Dylan which is delightful and reminds you what happens when a crazy genius like Bob Dylan becomes a crazy, irascible, crabby, unfiltered old man … and I mean that in most reverent way possible).

Anyway, there is also an article about how football became America’s number one sport … and how it has completely dominated television with its constant adrenaline-rush, mad-action, carefully scripted production.

And, in a throwaway to make their point, they call televised baseball “lugubrious and soporific.”  Lugubrious and soporific? Oh my! How erudite and loquacious of you, Rolling Stone.

Sure, if you don’t know how to fill the space within the game, then you won’t enjoy the easeful, sweetly slow pace of baseball. And, with so much noise in the world today, if you don’t know what in the world to do with the blank, quiet, waiting moments, then you’ll probably be, at best, bored … at worst, sound asleep.

But, those spaces of inaction are very much part of baseball. Having the time to watch things unfold – to get into the pitcher’s eyes and his careful windup, to get into the batter’s head – can make baseball riveting.

I’m pretty sure it was the Seattle Mariners who many years ago experimented with editing games for television. Snipping out all the quiet, slow spots. They were left with an hour or so of the “action.” I don’t know how many games this lasted, but needless to say … it didn’t last long.

On the other hand, my Yankee-fan Editor/Husband (hi honey!) reminds me of this:

There were some spring-training games that were telecast with a minimal broadcaster presence. I think they had several players and coaches miked up, but no one really in the broadcast booth. And, it was spring training, so it was a game of not much importance, but there was SO MUCH going on. There was the outfielder singing to himself.  And, the first-base coach talking to the base-runner and the first baseman. And, the catcher talking to the umpire and the batter.  And the manager … and the coach. There were ALL of these little centers of activity and interest and tension, while it might seem like “nothing” was happening!

Watching baseball on television isn’t easy, because it asks you to fall into a simple, slow rhythm yourself. Sometimes, you have to sing to yourself. And, for a world that’s super-charged with energy, for a television that offers continuous wall-to-wall action, that isn’t easy.

But, maybe that’s just baseball’s way of keeping the riff-raff out.

(I’ll sing the praises of the best baseball broadcasters – and there are some great ones out there – another time.)

And, by the way, I really do love Bob Dylan. I even have his brand new one, Tempest. It’s crazy sweet.  (And, as I write this, just a $5 download from Amazon … just click here).

Oh, I suppose some would say that the title track – a 14-minute, 45-verse recounting of the sinking of the Titanic, that weirdly entwines both historical fact and fictional characters from the movie – is, well, lugubrious and soporific. But, maybe Bob just wants to keep the riff-raff out, too.

Lotsa Luck

Many years ago, I had a neighbor who was an elderly widow. One morning she went outside and discovered that someone — we never found out who – had deposited a healthy, little puppy in her front yard. It was clearly not an accident. We decided that someone knew how lonely our neighbor was and decided she needed a companion. She named her puppy Lucky. And, yeh, he was a pretty lucky pup. He was lucky our neighbor was up to a task she didn’t ask for. She kept good care of her pup, although a bit of housetraining would have been a nice touch.

So, let’s talk about luck.

Because the notion of luck often rankles me.

Has anyone ever told you that your success or the fruits of your efforts were lucky? Someone once told me, quite kindly, that I was very lucky that my massage therapy practice was doing well during such tough economic times.

Luck? That’s it? I’m just lucky? OK, maybe. But, maybe, just maybe — and I’m going out on a limb here — but maybe, my clients have found some value in my work. Maybe I’m good at my job. I know they didn’t mean anything rude by it. And, yes, I do believe that random things happen that influence one’s success or failure. Right time, right place. That can lead to a bit of good luck. But, to suggest that someone’s good fortune is pure luck … well, that’s just unfair.

And, you know what? Maybe, just maybe, the Baltimore Orioles are more than lucky, too.  Maybe, they’re a good baseball team.

I am so tired of the so-called baseball experts who have decided that since the Orioles’ success this year doesn’t fit into their neat little mold of what makes a team good … that the statistics show that the Orioles should be no better than average … that there’s no way they could possibly be in a pennant race in September … then, surely, the only answer is that they have been lucky.

This has gone on all season. The chatter started already in April. They couldn’t explain why the Orioles were winning. That’s because there’s no easy way to chart intangibles – like team dynamics, players improving over previous seasons, or the zen-like influence of a manager like the Orioles’ Buck Showalter. And, without the intangibles, yeh, sure, the Orioles sort of looked beatable on paper. So, without bothering to think through the intangibles, a lot of sports talkers – ESPN, Sports Illustrated, and, just yesterday, National Public Radio among them – decided the Orioles had to be simply lucky.

I say, they’re wrong. Baseball statisticians haven’t found a way to quantify intangibles. But, that doesn’t mean those intangibles don’t exist.

If luck drove sports, then wouldn’t every team hover around .500? A little good luck. A little bad luck.

Or, how about this — maybe everything is luck. If the Orioles win a game, are they lucky? Sure. They’re lucky it didn’t rain and stop the game. They’re lucky that their winning pitcher didn’t fall down the dugout steps and dislocate his shoulder before the game. They’re lucky that the losing team scored fewer runs.

Every team has their good luck. And, their bad luck.

But, luck doesn’t exist in a vacuum. What those “experts” call luck, I call a good mixture of talent, heart, skills, and smarts. The Intangibles (which, by the way, would be a terrific title for an action movie).

In the case of the Orioles game against the Tampa Bay Rays on Wednesday night, I guess you could say the O’s are lucky that their superstar rookie is Manny Machado and not Bryce Harper.

And, here’s just one reason why. Enjoy one of the most beautiful, exciting, and head’s up defensive plays of the year, courtesy of a 20-year-old rookie. Did he just get lucky? You decide.

Click here to watch.

Oh, and the Orioles won again today. (yippee!) Wrapping up a three-game sweep of the surging Tampa Bay Rays. So, I guess all that luck of theirs hasn’t run out yet.

I Never Meant To Cause A Fuss

I have a super-secret blog. The fact that you are reading it right now (and you’re not married to me) sort of lessens its super-secret status.  But, it was super secret, once.

I just decided I needed to type something … something nice. About something I loved. And, I thought I could say one or two nice things about baseball and Yoga.  And, it would make me feel good inside to write something positive about some things I love.  What could be easier?

Oh sure, I published it on a blog.  I put it out there.  I just didn’t want to embarrass myself … especially in front of my friends.  So, at first, I didn’t tell a soul.

Eventually, I told my husband (hi honey!) because I needed a grown-up editor to rein in my occasionally all-over-the-place, mixed-up thoughts (and my inability to know a 2-seam from a 4-seam fastball, to spot a balk, or to understand the need for all the spitting).

I asked some friends if I could mention them in my posts, because they know baseball. And, some said “yes” and a few sent some nice thoughts, too.  But, I wouldn’t give them the address.

Continue reading →

Unassisted Triple Play!

This video has been out in the ether all season.  Still … one of my favorites.

The triple play is a thing of beauty.  But, the unassisted triple play is much, much more.  It requires a good glove, a good eye, good timing, and a good bit of luck.  A single fielder makes all three outs on a single play.

It’s an extremely rare event.  (According to Baseball Almanac, it’s happened only 15 times in the entire history of major league baseball.)  So, when it’s accomplished by a 6-year-old, it becomes transcendent!

Here … watch!  (Even if you’ve seen it before — it even made it to ESPN — watch again.  It’s only 18 seconds of your day, afterall.)

My favorite part of this may be that the little fella really had no idea that what he had done was anything special.  He just made the outs … 1 … 2 … 3.   He had to hustle a bit.  He had to follow some direction from his coach.

But, all in all, he made it look rather easy.

No fist pumps, dancing, jawing, or heroics for him.  After all, he was just doing his job.

“If You Doubt The Bodies, There Is No Sport.”

Frank Deford discussed performance enhancing drugs (PEDs) and athletes on NPR’s Morning Edition this week.

He argues that we watch sport to see the “true” human body excel.  And, that it is the same as expecting an opera to provide a “true” singing voice — untouched.  If we must wonder if what we are seeing by an athlete is natural and “real” then our faith in the sport is lost.

I get that argument.  Although it made me chuckle to think of all of the actors and actresses and celebrities who have plenty of surgical enhancements done to prolong and “improve” their artisitic performances.  And, I think it’s a bit naive to think that great dancers don’t resort to their own PEDs.  So, perhaps that argument is a little weak.

Still, I like this piece and I like the thoughts he offers.  It’s worth a read and/or a listen.

NPR: Frank Deford on Performance Enhancing Drugs

You Can Make It Simple … Or Not

There’s this thing amongst many Yoga students … that a challenging, pretzel-twisting pose is somehow more valuable and more beneficial than something plain and simple.

They’re wrong, of course. And, I spend a lot of class time trying to convince them that a beautiful, simple pose, done well, can be powerful and transformational.

A massive, powerful swing of the bat can turn into a glorious homerun. But, a nicely placed and well-timed double can be just as effective. Earl Weaver says the best play in baseball is the three-run homer.  A “simple” double, with three men on base, can do the very same thing. You just won’t get the fireworks.  But, you still get the runs. (And, oh yes, Orioles win.  Yay!)

And, here it is … simple. Effortless. And, did I mention that three runs score?

Orioles outfielder Nick Markakis off of the White Sox last night:

(right click on the video above.  Click “open in new tab.”  That oughta take you to the clip without taking you away from this post.  Because there’s another clip coming up that you also need to watch.)

Oh, all right. You talked me into it. Yes, the fancy-pants plays have their place in baseball too.  (And, the fancy-pants Yoga poses are, I admit it, rather fun.)

So, here you go.

Also from last night.

The Giants’ 3B Pablo “Panda Bear” Sandoval and SS Brandon Crawford combine, somehow, some way, for an out.

Not so effortless. But, a joy to watch none the less.

A little circus music might be a nice touch.

So, in baseball, as in Yoga, your ice cream can come in delicious vanilla (and I do love vanilla), or you can go load it up with cookie dough and sprinkles and chocolate.  And, that’s delicious, too.

One Wild & Precious Life

Oscar is my cat.  He’s 20.

Although he has his share of stiffness and achy joints in recent years, he can still hoist himself up on the barn roof for an afternoon snooze.  Just yesterday, for instance.

I share him with you, because he’s a good reminder of Poet Mary Oliver’s words:

“Tell me what it is you plan to do with your one wild & precious life.”

Oscar came to us about eight or nine years ago.  So, he already was an older cat — nearly elderly.

But, he was unhappy with his people up the road, I guess.  And, so he packed up and moseyed through the fields.  A half-mile.  He just showed up one day.  Moved in.  And, never left.

We always joke that he saw our place as a retirement home.

But, in fact, he didn’t retire.  Instead, Oscar found a second chance and a new life — rich, rewarding, active, and comfortable.

And, his decision to make a fresh start … at an age when he should have been winding down … is a daily inspiration to me.

It’s never too late to start again.

So …

“Tell me, what it is YOU plan to do with your one wild & precious life.”

P.S. Oscar would be delighted, I’m sure, if you would share his photo, and message, with your friends and loved ones.  Because he carries Mary Oliver’s inspiring words.  And, they are very good reminders that we all should live our lives to their fullest.

Cheaters Never Prosper (except when they do)

Et tú, Melky?

In 2005, I fell out of love with baseball.  That was the year that Rafael Palmeiro tested positive for anabolic steroids after swearing – under oath – that he never used them.

I was probably more betrayed by the lying, than by whatever it is he actually did or took.   And, so I began a complete baseball boycott that lasted five seasons.

Here’s what Palmeiro said to Congress – under oath — in March 2005:

“Let me start by telling you this: I have never used steroids, period. I don’t know how to say it any more clearly than that. Never.”

Five months later, Palmeiro was suspended for failing a drug test.

ESPN: Palmeiro Docked 10 Days For Steroids

And, so I fell out of love with baseball.  Not because Rafael Palmeiro was my favorite player.  He wasn’t, although I loved him as an Oriole.  Still, I was angry enough to quit baseball.

I don’t know how to say it any more clearly than this … I’m quite conflicted over performance enhancing drugs (PEDs).

Here’s the Yogic view.  Yoga includes the Yamas and Niyamas, limbs governing personal behavior and lifestyle.   One of the rules is Purity – often defined as not abusing the body with unhealthy food, drugs, or activities.  Clearly, Purity is at risk when you’re taking PEDs.  Another rule is Truthfulness.

From a Yogic perspective, PEDs destroy the body (and we already know that the body can be severely and permanently damaged by the use of many of these drugs).   Lying about it just compounds things.

Even Stevie, my cat, knows about my own Performance Enhancing Drug — my daily Diet Mountain Dew habit.

OK, full disclosure from me.  I use PEDs.   I’m using right now.  I have caffeine every day, even though I know it’s not good for my body.   Is it a PED?  You bet it is.  It makes me a better massage therapist and a better Yoga instructor.  It ensures that I can teach a Yoga class late in the evening and still be “on” and bright-eyed.

Maybe it’s just a mild stimulant.  But, it’s still a stimulant.  It’s a drug.  I use it.  And, I’m not the only one.  So, you see how quickly this issue can become complicated.

Many of us are guilty of using something that “enhances” our work or our play.  Maybe there are some in baseball who see their PEDs as simply their version of caffeine.

The difference is that in baseball – and other sports – the use of these drugs is forbidden.

And, some people get caught.

The more I read, the more people whisper, the more I hear that everyone in baseball is doing it; only the unlucky few get caught.

I guess I would argue that, if it is going to be banned, then Major League Baseball has a responsibility to work a little harder to find and punish as many “cheaters” as possible.

And, why are some of these drugs banned when others like cortisone – also a steroid – are not only approved, but, from my perspective, downright abused by pro sports?

My husband argues that PEDs skew baseball records – and part of what makes baseball so special is its love for tradition and statistics.  But, even before PEDs, there were amphetamines and who knows what kind of snake oil they were using before that. If Roger Maris deserved an asterisk on his homerun season (an asterisk that actually never existed), then shouldn’t those who broke records under the cloud of steroids?  (Although, to be fair, none of them actually tested positive for anything.  So, who’s to know?)

And, what about spitballs, pine tar, phantom tags, and myriad other forms of cheating?

(By the way, the Giants’ Melky Cabrera could even still win the NL batting title this year, despite his suspension this month.  I like the Giants and all, but still, that seems a bit unfair.)

I don’t like steroids.  I don’t like cheaters.  And, I don’t like liars.

I’m just trying to figure out why Melky Cabrera — or anyone — would risk it.  Maybe I need to look at it from another perspective.

When ballplayers hit .300 they’re considered superstars.  (My husband and I joke that the Orioles are unaware that batting averages are allowed to go that high.)

But, think about it, these guys who are batting .300 are “out” two out of three at bats.   And, they’re the BEST in the game.  In their world, taking a chance on a PED, knowing that you might — might — get caught, but probably won’t, is way better odds than their regular day at the plate.

The rewards far outweigh the risks.

Last night on ESPN, Orel Hershiser argued that until MLB takes the PED situation seriously – by making the penalty severe enough that a player would be foolish to risk it – then the problem will continue.

Major League Baseball will continue to nab the unfortunate few careless or unlucky enough to get caught and everyone else will breathe a sigh of relief that it wasn’t them … and go back to what they were doing.

So, are we fans angry because they used drugs?   Or, because they got caught?

Are Giants’ and A’s fans angry because Melky Cabrera and Bartolo Colon used drugs or because they got caught leaving their pennant-chasing teams in the lurch?   (On the other hand, are Dodgers’ and Angels’ fans secretly gleeful?)

Are we sitting smug and self-righteous, secretly happy to see a rich superstar have a run of bad luck?  Or, are we hypocrites because we cut corners in our own lives, maybe even cheat from time to time, and take our own forms of performance enhancing drugs?

So, here I sit, my Diet Mountain Dew – my own PED — right next to me, trying to make sense of it all.  And, all I come back to is this.  I don’t know how to feel.  Betrayed?  Angry?  Or, just resigned to the fact that as long as a game offers such enormous rewards, it will be worth the risk for a player to be all he, or she, can be.

I just don’t know.

The Easiest Way Around The Bases …

Legendary Baltimore Orioles Manager Earl Weaver was clear … the best play in baseball is the three-run homer.  (Not sure why a “four-run” Grand Slam wouldn’t be even better, but he’s Earl, so he should know.)

Anyway, last night against Toronto, Orioles Designated Hitter Chris Davis — oh, he of the beefy forearms — hit three home runs.  A total of four RBI.

I appreciate the long ball.  Honest, I do.  In fact, relive the moment with me right here, right now  …

But, here’s what I don’t get. Chris won the game for the Orioles (with some help from everyone else on the team, including pitcher Zach Britton, who had a better game than anyone ever could have imagined — except perhaps his mother.)  And, in the end, we remember this: Chris Davis hit three home runs.

The baseball world gets very excited about a three-homer game. But, Chris Davis could have racked up four RBI with just one grand-slam swing of the bat. This to me would have been more efficient and a much finer accomplishment. Because it would have meant men were on base … a good omen to be sure and a sign that the entire team is doing well.

Still, Orioles win. And, that’s the most important thing to me.

And, here’s Earl on home runs:

“Praised be the three-run homer! In my mind, the home run is paramount, because it means instant runs.  The minute you hit a homer you have a run, no questions asked.  … On a home run, nothing can go wrong.”