It is, indeed, a dark winter day when a forecaster on the radio says the “wind chill will get wind chillier” and the biggest move of 2015 in Orioles baseball is yesterday’s minor league signing of J.P. Arencibia.
“We signed J.P. Arencibia! We signed J.P. Arencibia!”
Now the Orioles have five catchers.
To go with their six starting pitchers.
(Who needs three outfielders when you have five catchers and six starting pitchers?)
For that first decade, we pretty much settled into the Two-Thousand model.
But, for the past few years, it’s back to the back-and-forth. Here it is the dawn of 2015, shouldn’t this be cleared up by now?
Is it nearly Twenty-Fifteen? Or, Two-Thousand-Fifteen?
Did they have this problem 100 years ago? Or, was Nineteen-Whatever always the unassailable, easy winner?
Will we ever decide?
So Happy Twenty-Fifteen.
If that’s what you call it.
Here’s some of what I learned in 2014.
(Twenty-Fourteen? Two-Thousand-Fourteen? Your choice.)
** Things Change.
I don’t like change … just to change. It should serve a purpose.
Strangely though, things often have a way of changing on their own without asking my approval.
Like this year.
Nick Markakis, the Ever-Oriole, goes to the Atlanta Braves.
I’m forced to find a new home for my Yoga studio.
I didn’t approve either change. But, I’m stuck with them.
But, my new Yoga studio is now twice as large so people won’t have to press themselves together like ship stowaways anymore, huddled and smacking into each other whenever they twist.
But, if Orioles GM Dan Duquette has an amazing January Surprise in store that will fill the outfield corners and bullpen, I might forgive him.
** Some Things Aren’t What They Seem.
I really like this photo I took in Charlottesville during the NCAA Super Regionals last June. It was the deciding Game 3, University of Maryland vs. University of Virginia.
That’s UVa closer Nick Howard (currently on the fast track with the Cincinnati Reds) on the mound looking a little harried. And, in the dugout, is a Maryland Terp, not troubled at all.
Which is funny, because it was the ninth inning and the score was 11-2, UVa.
Nick had it in the bag. And, that Terp’s season was two outs away from over.
But, you don’t get that from the picture.
In any event, I mostly like it because both players appear to be tipping their caps. Even though, that’s also not what it seems.
Other things that aren’t quite what they seem that I’ve written about this year?
And, Buttercup Dickerson, who’s credited with being the first Italian American to play major league baseball – except that I discovered he wasn’t Italian American at all.
Public Domain
** Be Prepared.
A photographer friend reminds me that a good photographer must anticipate where and when the spontaneous moment – and perfect picture – will occur.
I have yet to get my anticipation right at a game. Stolen base, breathtaking play in the outfield, close play at the plate? I’ve seen ‘em all and every single photo is just a little late. Never in the nick of time.
Except one.
It was right after that Nick Howard photo. One out, ninth inning, UVa is up 11-2.
What happens when a bunch of college boys are about to advance to the College World Series?
I knew.
So, with one out, I pointed my camera at the mound, fussed with the shutter, held it there, and waited.
True, it ain’t over ‘til it’s over.
Maryland singles. Man on first. Pop out. Two out. I kept checking the camera to make sure I still had it right. More waiting. And, then, strike three. Three out. Game Over.
Unlike baseball games which are not nearly as long as you think they are, War & Peaceis long. First there’s peace, then there’s war, then more peace, then back to war.
Look, I’m halfway through …
Stevie wishes she could read.
And, there is a central character named Nick. (Nikolai Rostov for you Tolstoy purists.)
Jeremy Brett as Nikolai in the 1956 film.
He’s an ordinary sort of fellow. Some pages ago he lost a bunch of money gambling. It was quite stupid of him and his ordinariness annoys me. When he shows up for a chapter or two, I find myself wondering what the more interesting characters are doing.
To be fair, Nikolai would agree with me. At one point, he tells his sister how tiresome and boring his life is.
But, there’s still a long way to go.
And, if there’s one thing I learned this year, things change and you gotta roll with it. Maybe things will change for Nikolai.
_______
That’s my 2014 wrap-up.
Done, just in the nick of time …
Now, I’m off to teach my first classes in my new Yoga studio.
Crime and riots and war and disasters and oppression and intolerance and Ebola and famine and corruption and apathy and terrorism and racism and, as John Lennon once said, this-ism and that-ism. Just a whole load of flat-out evil.
It makes my heart hurt.
I don’t write about that. So many people write about it much better than I could.
I just write about simple things. Like baseball.
I suppose you expect me to write today about how it sucks that Nick Markakis – old reliable, life-time Oriole, working man, no flash, do your job and do it well, Nick Markakis – signed last night with the Atlanta Braves.
Yup.
It sucks.
But, it’s just a game.
I sometimes use baseball like I use Yoga … as a little blanket fort to hide under.
Nothing bad ever really happens in Yoga either. Except for this damn groin pull that’s been going on four months now. But, really … not so bad.
When it comes to doing business deals with friends (rarely a good idea), a friend once said, “Buddies are buddies and business is business.”
And, in baseball, “Business is business.”
And, that part of the game sucks for fans who have enough difficult “business is business” in our own world and look to baseball to be somehow above that.
It’s not above that.
Nick Markakis was drafted by the Orioles in 2003.
And, depending on who you listen to this morning, the Orioles shoo’d Nick away because their persnickety medical team was antsy over a neck issue … or Nick jumped to make a few million more and a longer contract.
Were the Orioles disloyal and cheap? Was Nick disloyal and greedy?
Maybe. I dunno.
There was a time when Cal Ripken played every game … every single day. Year in and year out, he played. Drafted an Oriole. Played as an Oriole. Retired as an Oriole.
But, that doesn’t happen much any more.
For any of us, really.
I changed jobs and careers.
Who doesn’t change jobs or put on a new uniform from time to time?
Nick was with the Orioles 11 years. We’re much flightier than he is.
I change things from time to time.
But not everything.
These things won’t change for me:
1) Cheese should never be served as dessert.
2) R.E.M. is the greatest band of all time.
3) The Baltimore Orioles are, win or lose, Nick or no Nick, my team.
When Orioles pitcher Mike Mussina left in 2000 to sign with the Yankees, I was devastated. I’m still pretty steamed about the Orioles letting him walk, although not at “Moose” (who deserves to be in the Hall of Fame).
I’m pretty sore about this Markakis thing, too. I’m gonna miss Old Reliable in Right.
And, I wonder how Orioles center fielder Adam Jones is going to cover his position – plus the now-empty left and right fields – next season.
Sure, the Oriole Twitterers are apoplectic today. (Yay, I got to use “apoplectic”!) And, the Braves Twitterers seem resigned in a “Really? We signed who, why … wait, how much?” sort of way. (Relax, Braves Fans … he’ll be fine.)
There is so much more in the world to be truly sad about than a baseball guy changing teams.
I’ve been sitting around for weeks waiting for the Baltimore Orioles to just get on with things and re-sign Nick Markakis.
How hard can it be? It’s not like he’s asking for $300 million. Or, 13 years.
Really, guys, sign someone. Anyone.
But, mostly Nick.
This happens every year. Thanksgiving comes. Thanksgiving goes. Christmas comes. Christmas goes. New Year’s …
Other teams spend money. The Orioles sit tight.
Patience is not my strong suit.
I was planning on a silent protest. Not saying a word on here until the Orioles did something.
(I know, that’d show ‘em.)
But, I miss you. So, I’m cancelling the boycott.
So, here’s the traitor thing. With no Orioles news to report, this post is about the Boston Red Sox.
As an Orioles fan, I’ve got no love for the Red Sox. Those are the rules.
That’s why I postthis video from 2011, the only highlight in a lousy Orioles season, on here from time to time.
Just to relive a moment when we weren’t supposed to, but we beat the Red Sox anyway.
This weekend, the Red Sox apparently spent nearly $200 million to sign free agents Hanley Ramirez and Pablo Sandoval. (Why, Panda, why?)
And, they’ve still got money to throw around.
The Orioles swept up a few minor leaguers last week, which is sweet and all, sort of like a hot night out at the Dollar Store. But, it’s always so sad to watch the free agent list scroll by … “nope” … “nope” … “can’t afford him” … “nope” … “nope” … “too expensive.”
I hate all this off-season money business. But, this post isn’t about money.
(Well, it’s not anymore.)
In September, my Red Sox-loving, baseball guru Jay arranged for us to go down on the field for batting practice when the Sox played the Orioles at Camden Yards.
So, while I wait for the Orioles to get Nick to sign on the dotted line, here are the Red Sox doing Yoga.
Second baseman Mookie Betts was so joyful in his stretch that this photo has become one of my favorites.
The Baltimore Orioles have been awarded 70 Gold Gloves, recognizing defensive excellence, since 1957 – the most in the American League and second only to the St. Louis Cardinals.
One of my Yoga students came to class this week and asked, “What are you going to do now that there’s no baseball?”
Apparently, some people believe that I am small, uninspired, and one-dimensional in my interests.
There is plenty to do in the off season, I’m told, and I am ready to do all of it.
I won’t bore you with ALL the things I will be doing. But, I assure you there will be lots of them.
Here are just five.
1) Sort Photos.
I took hundreds of photos at baseball games this season. (Actually probably more like a thousand, but “thousand” makes me sound weirdo-y, so let’s say, hundreds and leave it at that.)
It’s time to paw through them and see who’s in there …
Former Richmond Flying Squirrel and rookie Giant Joe Panik, who just won his first.
Congratulations, Giants!
This project trumps my other photo project – sorting through my grandfather’s slides from the 1950s and ‘60s of people and places I don’t know or can’t recognize. Boxes and boxes of slide carousels fill an entire closet in our guest room. I suppose I could go through them. Or, I could put it off another year and continue to pile all the things that should be stored in the closet on the floor in our bedroom.
2) Bake.
It’s free-agent time in baseball, which means the Baltimore Orioles will cut loose many players who have multimillion-dollar paydays coming.
Yes, it’s the cruel financial reality of being a small-market team … we can no longer afford many of our best players.
Am I happy to say “goodbye” to Andrew Miller and his 94 mph fastball and spaghetti legs? No. Do I understand why the Orioles probably won’t pay $10 million+ a year to resign a one-inning reliever? No.
Also in the free-agent pool is longtime Orioles right fielder Nick Markakis. The Orioles have declined his option for 2015, but still remain hopeful they can re-sign him. Will they? Maybe. Will someone else swoop in with a better offer? Maybe.
But, not if I can help it.
I want to do my part to help collect the millions that the Orioles will need to keep Nick Markakis.
I’m thinking, bake sale.
I can’t bake enough to keep Andrew Miller, Nelson Cruz, and Nick.
I stick with Nick.
Anyway, cupcakes.
Thousand dollar cupcakes.
I encourage you to bake some cupcakes for Nick, too.
Just remember, take all the money you raise and send it to:
Baltimore Orioles
Let’s Pay Nick Fund
Camden Yards
Baltimore, Maryland
3) Care for Munchie.
Among the unusual birthday gifts Editor/Husband gave me this year was this …
Munchie.
Editor/Husband thought a venus flytrap would solve a long-standing kitchen problem.
When the compost pail gets kinda full-ish, it attracts fruit flies. Now, sure, you might take a moment to comment below with your good ideas of how to stop attracting fruit flies in our kitchen. “Take out the compost more regularly,” you might suggest, or “Get rid of the stupid compost pail.”
Your suggestions, while interesting, would be wrong.
The best and only way to deal with fruit flies is to get a venus flytrap and hope he has a taste for them.
My first question to Editor/Husband after “You got me a venus flytrap? Really?” was “Do we have to find food for him? Do we feed him meat?”
Apparently, no. You do not feed them meat.
Except all the “flytrappists” online insist you must. They say you have to buy flies and bloodworms and feed them to your plant. They do suggest you be careful, though, since many people are highly allergic to bloodworms and just touching one could kill you.
If the venus flytrap doesn’t get you first.
I’ll let you know if one of the cats goes missing.
4) Read War & Peace.
I am not kidding.
Tolstoy’s War & Peace is almost always listed as one of the greatest novels ever written. Which is funny because I know only one person who has actually read it.
None of my friends – even the fussy ones – has read it.
So, I’m reading it. Because they won’t. And, you probably won’t either.
I’m doing it for you.
Look, I’m already a quarter of the way through!
It’s actually very good.
Although, you have to wade through an awful lot of war to get to the peace parts.
Public Domain, 1903.
Napoleon Lajoie, the “Little Frenchman” and namesake of the Cleveland Naps (today, the Cleveland Indians), is not in War & Peace.
Public Domain
Napoleon Bonaparte, also a “Little Frenchman”, is.
Fun Fact: The original title for War and Peace was War – What Is It Good For? Tolstoy’s mistress didn’t like the title and insisted that he change it to War and Peace.
It rained in Virginia this week. That kind of overflowing, cold, pouring rain that makes you stop saying, “Well, we need the rain,” because, not like this. And, now there’s mud on my pants and I have to change. That sort of rain.
So, when I grabbed the basket of massage linens and began to tote them into our basement early Wednesday morning, where the washer and dryer and friendly skinks, lizards, and wolf spiders live, I was especially careful.
Because our basement is a cellar that you enter from outside, pulling up wooden dormer doors, and going down cement steps.
(Except, I wasn’t wearing catcher’s gear and there was no foul ball. So not exactly “exactly”.)
I could still be lying there in a puddle of my own carefulness. Instead, I’m just banged up.
But, unbroken.
(Caleb was fine, too, by the way.)
When you fall, it plays out in slow motion. So, in those milliseconds of disaster I saw my career crumbling into a heap of broken bones.
Actually, this is what I saw when I fell.
Wait, no … THIS is what I saw when I fell.
I’m told I could have killed myself, but really, I was just trying not to break my arm.
Once I landed on the cement – my left elbow and low back took the worst of it, for those of you who are injury-curious – and determined I was not dead, I wrote a poem.
It’s also versatile. Just change the “s” to an “f” and you have a brand new poem which celebrates rain and cement steps and nearly, but not quite, killing oneself.
Please feel free to use it whenever you need it.
I took photos of my bruises for you. They are ugly, but not quite ugly enough. I’m looking for pity here, not another lecture about how one needs to be careful when cement steps are covered in rain. The photos are more like, “Really? I thought it would have been a lot worse than that.” You’d be disappointed. They don’t help my case at all. So, nevermind.
I’m lucky.
But, my very bad, but unbroken, morning, got very, very badder as the Baltimore Orioles were swept out of the playoffs that afternoon by the pesky Kansas City Royals.
The cement steps couldn’t break my bones.
But, baseball broke my heart.
(I’ve been waiting all week to write that for you.)
Let’s cover a few post-season and World Series topics …
#1) The Kansas City Royals won, fair and square. Congratulations! You swept two of the best teams in baseball to make your way to your first World Series since 1985. That’s pretty awesome.
Whining by Orioles fans who think it’s unfair that there’s a wild card team even in the mix, because wild cards often reflect currently “hot” teams, rather than “consistently consistent” teams, were unusually quiet when the Orioles were the wild card team in 2012.
The Royals will be tough to beat … but …
#2) Go Giants.
Because, they’re almost a home team for Virginia and Orioles fans.
(That home run call? That’s Giants radio broadcaster, Jon Miller – beloved, former Orioles broadcaster.)
Giants reliable, reliever Javier Lopez? Grew up in Fairfax, Virginia; played for the University of Virginia.
The Richmond Flying Squirrels (Giants AA team), and just an hour down the road from here, has included Brandon Belt, Brandon Crawford, Matt Duffy, Joe Panik, and Ryan Vogelsong (rehab, 2013).
And, Giants Manager Bruce Bochy? He played for the AAA Tides when they were in Tidewater, Virginia (and a Mets farm club) back in 1981-1982.
It’s not my preferred orange and black, but it will have to do.
KC Pitcher (& former Oriole) Jeremy Guthrie & his stupid tee-shirt, following Game 3.
Oh, one last thing …
After the Orioles loss, Casey Karp – Mariners fan, cat person, and author of the especially fine Koi Scribblings blog (really, check it out) – arranged for me to drown my baseball sorrows in ice cream.
Baltimore is a fine, fine city, and the Baltimore Oriolesare a fine, fine ballclub. There’s plenty of room on the train to Birdland and I’ve saved you a seat!
I checked StubHub Wednesday morning and Standing Room tickets for Friday’s game at beautiful Oriole Park at Camden Yards can be yours for just $98 a ticket. Looking for standing room tickets to Monday’s game at Kauffman Stadium in KC? $196.
Advantage, Baltimore.
(Dear Slowpoke, all those “cheap” “seats” are now gone.)
America’s first professional sports organization was born in Baltimore in 1743 – the Maryland Jockey Club.
The first hot air balloon to go up in the air with a person in a basket? 1784. Baltimore.
The first sugar refinery (1796), the first electric refrigerator (1803), and the first ice cream freezer (1848). All Baltimore. Yes, thank Baltimore next time you wolf down an entire container of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie with an oversized tablespoon after a crappy day at work. (What? Just me?)
Baltimore, Maryland is known forOld Bay seasoning and Maryland crabs. Kansas City is known for barbeque that is sweet and saucy.
Hey, I’m a vegetarian, you’re going to have to score this one yourself.
It was in Kansas City that Walt Disney dreamed up Mickey Mouse. It was in Baltimore that David Simon dreamed up The Wire.
I’m sure that Kansas City is a lovely place. Although, most of it lives in Missouri, not Kansas, which seems a bit shady, if you ask me.
Still, Kansas City is home to the first suburban shopping center – The Plaza. Kansas City’s Swope Park is one of the largest urban parks in the country – more than twice the size of New York’s Central Park.
If it weren’t for Kansas City we wouldn’t have Teflon-coated frying pans and electric hair clippers. Really. Those are really important things.
I mentioned that Baltimore gave us ice cream freezers, didn’t I?
The Baltimore Orioles have been a part of baseball – in one iteration or another – since the late 1800s. In just the past 40-odd years, these greats have played for Baltimore: Jim Palmer, Eddie Murray, Brooks Robinson, Frank Robinson, Mike Flanagan, Mike Mussina, and Cal Ripken.
The Royals’ long and storied baseball history began in 1969, as an expansion team. It has its share of greats, too, I’m sure. Like George Brettand outfield-wall-climbing Bo Jackson. I’m sure there have been others.
The Royals have a big, lovable lion mascot named Sluggerrr.
The Orioles have a big, loveable oriole bird mascot named … um … I think he’s just called The Bird.
Both, awfully cute. Battle of the Mascots … Tie.
Both cities celebrate baseball’s history. Baltimore has the Babe Ruth Museum. Kansas City has the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum and considers itself the birthplace of the Negro leagues. Both cities honor baseball well. They both win on that count.
Hooray for history!
So, does one team deserve to win more than the other?
The Royals last won the World Series in 1985. The Orioles in 1983.
Both are underdogs. Small-market teams that are regularly bullied by teams with far bigger payrolls (Tigers, Yankees). Both were expected to finish last (or nearly last) by almost every baseball “expert” this spring. Both are hard-working and drama-free. Both have excited, fired-up, feisty fans.
Really, both are deserving.
But, wait. Before you pull on that Royal blue sweatshirt.
“America’s game: has the snap, go fling, of the American atmosphere — belongs as much to our institutions, fits into them as significantly, as our constitutions, laws, [and] is just as important in the sum total of our historic life.” ~ Walt Whitman on baseball, 1889
I’m pausing from my days-long Ripken-is-better-than-Jeter email exchange with my baseball guru Jay, to share a non-Jeter moment from last night.
(I like Derek Jeter and all, but Cal Ripken was better. Jay disagrees.)
But, this isn’t about the oldsters …
I used to think that the Baltimore Orioles third baseman Manny Machado, just 22, would be baseball’s next great superstar.
But, his knees are wobbly.
One knee surgery kept him out of the lineup until May. Then surgery on the other knee ended his season in August.
The Orioles could certainly use a third baseman – as in someone actually schooled in playing third and not a journeyman tucked in over there and told to just dive at anything that comes remotely close and could be a baseball and try not to break anything. (It’s rarely pretty.)
Manny should be a-ok by next Opening Day. And, maybe he will be back to superstar form. Or, maybe those knees … those wobbly, unreliable knees … oh, I can’t even say it.
Manny did not take the Orioles to the post-season this year – they got there with those journeymen and other guys, giant holes at third, and very little Manny.
The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, California, on the other hand, owe a lot to baseball’s just 23, superstar, centerfielder Mike Trout.
That’s all. I just wanted to make sure you saw that.
The Baltimore Orioles and the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, California will both be in the post-season.
(I’ll be cheering the Manny-less Orioles, of course, but those Trout-full Angels are very good.)
Oh, and back to the Ripken vs. Jeter thing for just a second …
Our friend Jay argues that part of why Derek Jeter is a greater player than Cal Ripken is because he won more World Series (5 vs. 1). This, of course, means that Aubrey Huff(two World Series victories) is a greater player than Ted Williams, Willie McCovey, Ken Griffey, Jr., Harmon Killebrew, and Rod Carew, who won zero.
I argue that Cal Ripken is a greater player than Derek Jeter because he is.
The Baseball Bloggess 