Seventeen years ago, when the Baltimore Orioles last won the American League East title, I was single, worked in still Nationals-less Washington DC, and colored my hair every three months because I wanted to, not because I had to (damn you, gray hair!)
R.E.M. was still a band. Cal Ripken was still playing (every single day). My gold suede Hush Puppy oxfords were kitschy and cool.
(I wish I had those shoes back. I had forgotten all about them until just now. They were awesome.)
When you have to wait 17 years for something, it seems a bit sweeter maybe. I sniffled last night. (I’m getting a little teary-eyed just writing this.)
Even if you don’t love baseball. Even if you only read this because I asked you to. Let me have this moment, ok?
Last week, Baltimore Orioles first baseman, home-runny guy Chris Davis was suspended for 25 games for failing his second drug test. He used Adderall, an amphetamine that is restricted by Major League Baseball.
I wrote about the messy business of drug testing and cheating and Chris Davis here.
And, here’s the weird thing I just discovered.
I started this blog in 2012. That was the summer that Giants outfielder Melky Cabrera was suspended for using performance enhancing drugs (PEDs) and failing a drug test.
And, I wrote back then about Cabrera and the messy business of drug testing and cheating. (Which you can read here.)
In my post last week about Davis, I was conflicted. I don’t like cheaters, but hey, we all make mistakes and do stupid things from time to time, right?
Right?
Was I mad at Chris Davis? Disappointed? Could I ever trust him again?
The last words of that post on Friday … “I just don’t know.”
When I wrote about Melky Cabrera in 2012, I couldn’t decide either. Was I mad at him? Disappointed? Could I ever trust him again?
The last words of that post … “I just don’t know.”
That I ended both posts exactly the same way – unknowingly – means what? That I’m hopelessly conflicted? Unable to find the black-and-white answer in a gray-area world? Utterly predictable? Or, that I’m my only plagiarist?
I just don’t know.
Just like the strike zone, balks, the ever-changing rules about blocking the plate, the phantom “almost tags” at second on double plays … baseball might seem black and white on the outside, but inside the rules can get a bit mooshy.
To ban Adderall for some players, but allow it for others? I just don’t know. It doesn’t seem so black and white after all.
Yes, Chris Davis broke the rules. He admitted that. He’s serving his suspension.
But, as CBS Sports reports, Davis may be one of the few players who isn’t “faking” his ADD diagnosis. Read here.
And, there is this.
Yesterday, with no game to go to (because of that suspension thing) Davis was on his way to the airport to pick up some friends. He came across an accident on 295 outside of Baltimore, stopped, flagged down help, and helped right an overturned truck that had pinned one of its occupants.
So, he may have done a bad thing. But, he’s also does good things.
How can I stay mad at someone who helps out like that?
How can I stay mad when the Baltimore Orioles are one win away from clinching the American League East title?
No expert predicted it (except The Baseball Bloggess). And, it hasn’t been easy.
Orioles All-Star catcher Matt Wieters? Out since May with a season-ending elbow injury. Orioles All-Star third baseman Manny Machado? Out at the beginning of the season and out again since August with a season-ending knee injury. All-Star first baseman Chris Davis? Out (we’ve covered this).
The Orioles are about to win the AL East title with the help of a bunch of non-All-Star Other Guys. How cool is that!
It’s been a long time, too. The last time the Orioles won their division was 1997.
In 1997, there were no blogs. No iPods, iPhones, or iPads. Chris Davis was 11. Manny Machado was 5. And, we all thoughtthis songwas great …
“The weather may be tricky or a bat may slip or a ball may bounce in some unexpected way; now and then the best man may go stale or lose his nerve; the professional honor of the player, however, has been taken for granted. We do not trust cashiers, diplomats, policemen, or physicians as we trust an outfielder or shortstop. … The man at the bat, cheer him or hoot at him as we may, is supposed to be doing his best.” ~ The Nation magazine, October 13, 1920
Baltimore Orioles first baseman (and home-run slugger) Chris Davis was suspended today for 25 games for testing positive for Adderall, an amphetamine, which is restricted by Major League Baseball.
Chris Davis
His suspension means he will miss the rest of the regular season and the first eight games of the post-season – should the Orioles get that far.
Davis was having a weirdly unsuccessful (.196), successful (26 home runs) sort of season.
So, sure, it’s a weirdly insurmountable (who will hit home runs now?), surmountable (Nelson Cruz, Adam Jones, Steve Pearce, and all those other guys) problem for the Orioles as they make a run toward the post-season (something they’ve done only one other time this century).
I am mad at Chris Davis. Because I trusted him not to be stupid.
(Trusting guys in their 20s to not be stupid, I realize, is stupid. I have just put my head down on the keyboard in shame.)
I am mad at Chris Davis because he cheated and now he is screwing up everything. He has let down his team and fans. (If we don’t win the World Series this year – no matter what happens – I will blame him.)
But, I’m also mad at Orioles fans who have been whining since the news broke this morning, “He wasn’t really cheating. Adderall isn’t a performance-enhancing drug (PED). It’s not that bad. Oh, why does everyone gang up on the Orioles?”
Let me clear something up, you whining tweeters.
Yes, yes, he was cheating. Yes, it is that bad. And, no one was ganging up on the Orioles. Chris Davis broke the rules.
Davis used a drug he did not have permission to use. (He had a “therapeutic use exemption” for Adderall in previous seasons. He does not have it now.) This is his second offense – hence the 25-game suspension which begins today.
Adderall, used for Attention Deficit Disorders in children and adolescents, is one of those sneaky gray-area drugs. Its benefits to athletes aren’t physically obvious – with steroids you can see the effects in the beefy muscles and resulting power. Adderall acts more like a super dose of caffeine, enhancing concentration, focus, and reaction time.
Dr. Gary Wadler, a former chair of the World Anti-Doping Agency’s Prohibited List Committee, told The Seattle Times in 2012 that Adderall is “one of the quintessential performance-enhancing drugs.”
Adderall, he said, “masks fatigue, masks pain, increases arousal — like being in The Zone. … It increases alertness, aggressiveness, attention, and concentration. It improves reaction time, especially when fatigued. Some think it enhances hand-eye coordination. Some believe it increases the mental aspects of performance.”
(Apparently, it does not enhance the “mental aspects” of making good decisions.)
Since Adderall has very little therapeutic value in adults, it’s curious that baseball offers exemptions to players. Nearly 10 percent of current major league players have an exemption.
And, Jayson Stark of ESPN pointed out: “Athletes who have taken it have told me that once you’re used to playing your sport when you’re taking Adderall, it’s incredibly difficult to play without it.”
Oh, sure, you wisenheimers can argue that Adderall was doing a lousy job of enhancing Chris Davis’ .196 batting average this year. But, you’re just being cheeky.
Davis had permission to take Adderall in the past, perhaps even during last year’s monster 53 home run season. If something gives you an edge or a boost or helps you achieve amazing things it can’t be easy to just up and quit. And, Adderall is highly addictive.
But, rules are rules and the rules say this – you cannot take Adderall without an exemption. Pretty simple.
I hate writing posts like this. (I’ve written this blog for two years and every season I’ve had to sigh and try to make sense of some cheater or other – relive previous cheatery here.)
I hate when stupid and ugly things get in the way of the game that I love.
Orioles rightfielder Nick Markakis has been outspoken regarding PED use in baseball.
Nick Markakis
In an interview with The Baltimore Sun last season, Markakis said of players who fail drug tests, “These guys are big boys; they can make decisions. If I go out there and rob a convenience store, I know the consequences that are coming with it. We are all adults here.”
He continued: “These guys that are doing performance-enhancing drugs are taking away from a lot of other people that are doing it the right way. They are taking opportunities away and they are basically stealing.”
“I’m sorry” goes a long way with me. I forgave Nelson Cruz. (Cruz served a 50-game suspension for failing a drug test last season. He apologized.)
I’ll forgive you, too, Chris.
But, trust?
I still trust Nick Markakis.
Everyone else? I just don’t know.
Photos: Oriole Park at Camden Yards, Baltimore, Maryland. August 10, 2014
“Remember, one cannot throw a successful party without successful guests.” ~ Amy Sedaris
I promise you this story is true.
This week I learned from The Washington Postthat Baltimore Orioles’ outfielder Nelson Cruz provides home-cooked Dominican meals to the Dominican ballplayers on other teams who visit Baltimore during the season. Cruz is not alone in this courtesy – apparently a whole lot of Dominican players make sure that visiting players are well fed with “food from home.”
I decided that if Cruz could be such a good host to his guests, then I should make some authentic Dominican beans and rice for you, my blog guests. (And, to be honest, I really wanted to know what was so special about Dominican food that players felt the need to create this underground home-cooking pipeline.)
And, as I stood in line at the grocery store this morning – my cart filled with the fixings – I said to Editor/Husband, “If Nelson Cruz hits a home run today, he can come to dinner, too.”
I think Nellie heard me.
Because, he hit two. And, a triple. And, had ALL seven RBI in a game the Orioles won 7-5 over the Tampa Bay Rays. Here’s one …
Holy cow, these beans are magic!
Eleven percent of major league ballplayers today are from the Dominican Republic.
“I love my Dominican food,” Cruz told The Post. “And the day I don’t eat my rice and Dominican food, I don’t feel good. I know other Dominicans feel that way, too. Knowing how they suffer away from home, I try to make their day and visit more comfortable by bringing them food, too.”
Cruz is on his way to Boston this evening (where I hope David Ortiz of the Red Sox will have a hearty meal waiting for him).
I sure wish I could share this meal and make your day more comfortable. Because it was deee-licious.
At least I can share my recipe.
And, it’s worth the trouble to soak the beans and find the proper ingredients. (Every Latin ingredient you need should be at your local grocery, although Editor/Husband and I had a very nice time checking out all the corner mercados in nearby Culpeper yesterday.)
From here on out, these are …
Nelson’s Magic Beans & Rice with Sautéed Vegetables
(Feeds Nelson Cruz and a couple other friends)
One-half lb. dried red kidney beans
(To soften beans: In a big pot, pour 5 cups boiling water over the beans and let them sit overnight. They’ll plump up and you’ll have about 4 cups of beans after soaking.)
For the Beans & Rice:
One-half red onion, chopped fine
One-half Cubanelle pepper, chopped fine
One clove garlic, chopped
2 TBS fresh cilantro, chopped
2 TBS olive oil
1-1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground pepper
2 tsp fresh (or 1 tsp dried) thyme
1 TBS Sofrito (Goya has MSG. I’ll make my own next time.)
1 pack Sazon Tropical (Badio brand only. Easy to make your own … but this one is MSG free and works a-ok.)
1 TBS apple cider vinegar
1/3 cup alcaparrados, chopped (it’s a mixture of olives and capers. Be sure to pit the olives!)
4 oz. Spanish tomato sauce (Goya brand)
1 bay leaf
2 cups rice
2+ cups vegetable broth
Here’s what you’ll need. (I don’t know why that celery’s in there.)
In a medium pot, add softened beans, salt, and 5 cups of water. Bring to a boil and then reduce heat to medium-low and cook for an hour … or maybe a little more. Drain and set the beans aside (save the liquid).
In the pot, add olive oil, onion, pepper, garlic, cilantro. Sauté on medium for a few minutes to soften.
Add salt, pepper, thyme, sofrito, sazon, and vinegar. Stir well.
Add the olives/capers, tomato sauce, and bay leaf. Return the beans to the pot and stir.
Cook on medium for about 5 minutes. (Add a splash of the bean water if things seem too dry.)
Rinse the rice and add to the pot. Stir in vegetable broth.
Bring to a boil. Turn heat way down and cover tightly. White rice will take about 25-30 minutes. Check after 15 minutes; if it’s getting dry add some of the bean water to moisten. Cover again and finish the cooking. When rice is tender, take off heat and let it rest while you make …
Vegetable Sauté:
1 TBS olive oil
1 TBS butter
4 cups of whatever fresh summer vegetables you have, chopped. (I used one small eggplant, a red pepper, a stalk of celery, and a zucchini.)
One-half cup corn (frozen or fresh)
2 tsp dried oregano
1-1/2 tsp capers
Salt/Pepper to taste
2 cups spinach chopped
2 TBS cilantro, chopped
A little bit of that leftover bean water (I told you to keep it!)
In a skillet or sauté pan, heat the oil and butter together. Add the fresh vegetables, cook until they just begin to soften. Add the corn, oregano, capers, salt, and pepper.
Stir occasionally until all the vegetables are just cooked through. (10 to 20 minutes depending on what vegetables you have.) If things get dry, add a few spoonfuls of the leftover bean water.
Fold in spinach and cilantro.
Cook just until spinach wilts and turns bright green.
In the meantime, here’s a kid eating cotton candy.
Getting all sticky.
Eating the entire thing.
And, then looking both wistful and a tiny bit barfy at the end.
(Hey, why does cotton candy only come in pink and blue?)
Also from our recent trip to a game at Nats Park in Washington, DC, here are the Racing Presidents.
(George always seems a little embarrassed about the whole running-around thing or maybe he just ate too much cotton candy and is feeling a tiny bit barfy himself.)
Photos: San Francisco Giants vs. Washington Nationals, Nationals Park, Washington, DC. August 23 and August 24, 2014
(The Giants lost both games, including getting pounded by the Nats on Sunday, 14-6. This may help explain why I spent an entire inning watching a child cover himself in cotton candy. The Giants are currently on a seven-game win streak … and I hope this doesn’t jinx them.)
“First off, superstitions work.” ~ Detroit Tigers Max Scherzer, 2013 Cy Young Award acceptance speech.
I’m a little concerned. Because, ever since Editor/Husband has been away, the Baltimore Orioles have been on a winning streak.
OK, maybe it’s just a two-game winning streak, but let’s not get all judgey about things.
Still, it makes me wonder how far I’m willing to go to win the World Series.
(Hi Honey, are you reading this? See you in November!)
I am a great believer in superstitions.
In the midst of a hot streak, some players will wear the same clothes, eat the same meals, or take part in strange rituals that might include touching certain parts of the ballpark, the bat, or themselves. Some won’t shave. Some will wear the same, unwashed jock through a hitting streak. (I know this is true because Mike Bordicksaid so during an Orioles’ broadcast earlier this season, and really, tell me why anyone would lie about a thing like that?)
(Here’s an important message to take from this last point: Ladies, no multi-million-dollar salary is going to make up for a lack of good personal hygiene. I’m pretty sure about this.)
Orioles pitcher Kevin Gausman eats powdered donuts before starts. Hall of Famer Jim Palmer used to have pancakes before his. (That’s my Orioles – always recognizing the importance of a good breakfast.)
Food plays a big role in player superstitions. And, this is a good thing, because eating the same meal, or at the same restaurant, on game day is a far better superstition than that don’t-wash-your-drawers-while-you’re-winning thing.
I have my little superstitions, too. While the University of Virginia baseball team made their way to Omaha this year – and came within two runs of winning the College World Series – I wore, and refused to wash, Lucky Shirt through the post-season.
It lost some mojo around the time Vanderbilt showed up, but other than that, it did a fine job for the Hoos.
Lucky Shirt. All washed & ready for 2015.
And, while superstitions are head-shakingly stupid and totally irrational, they are also vitally important and absolutely real.
(Editor/Husband would say that superstitions cannot be both irrational and real. But, I’m Editor-free today … so, yes, they can.)
See this shirt?
Lucky Orioles Shirt. Black Cat Approved.
It’s a vintage 1989 Orioles shirt – the year they went from the worst record in baseball to nearly winning the AL East. Nearly. So, maybe not the luckiest shirt in the world.
Still, it tries hard and has become one of my go-to Yoga shirts.
However, it should only be worn following an Orioles win. I believe it can further a streak – if they won their last game, wear the shirt, do some Yoga, and they’ll win again. If they lost their last game and I wear the shirt, they’ll lose the next.
You may have noticed I haven’t spoken much about my Orioles these last few weeks. Not when they’re here …
I don’t want to jinx things.
But, here’s the thing. I’ve been dying to show you what the O’s have been up to this week. Because there’ve been some awesomely beautiful things in Birdland. Just watch …
Adam Jones home stealing (please note the excellent deke by Nelson Cruz):
Joe Nathan, the Detroit Tigers closer, got a little frustrated during Wednesday’s game versus the Pittsburgh Pirates. The Tigers won and all, but Nathan was a little shaky in the ninth, walking the first two batters and making things interesting. (He’s been “a little shaky” a lot this season.)
This led to some booing from equally frustrated Tiger fans.
Joe Nathan, I don’t care if they booed you. No need to be a dolt.
And, fans, don’t boo your players.
Even when they frustrate you and annoy you and make you want to slam your head into the wall. Even when they blow the save or give up a walk-off homer and lose the game. (Brian Matusz, you sure do work my nerves some days.)
They’re doing their best.
Okay, there are a few times when you are allowed to – even encouraged to – boo your team.
Not running out ground balls to first.
Lack of hustle.
Not hustling.
Lazy hustling.
Hustle atrophy.
Hustlessness.
When cheering for your favorite player sounds a lot like booing … Nelson Cruuuuuuuzzzzzz … Louuuuuuuu Pinella.
And, of course, when your closer does this to you …
But, booing, generally speaking, doesn’t help. (Oakland fans, are you listening?)
It won’t make the blown save disappear or turn a bottom-of-the-ninth two-out strike out into a walk-off win. It won’t make anyone play harder. It won’t make anything better. And, it could make things abundantly worse. (Oakland, I’m not kidding here.)
The only time booing really made a difference was in ancient Rome when the cries of displeased fans would occasionally determine which gladiators lived and which, uh, umm, didn’t. Joe Nathan would have been a short-lived gladiator.
But some of us must boo, mustn’t we? Like the dinner party guest who must poo-poo every story you tell … one-up your vacation … your job … your kids.
(Oh my, your precious daughter won a Scrabble tournament with the word ‘jonquil’? I see why you’re so proud. My cat beheaded a mouse on my Yoga mat, dissected its intestines and set them aside, and then barfed the rest of it up into two separate piles. Can your daughter do that?*)
* True story: My cat Polly barfed as I was writing about cats barfing. How cool is that!
And, he should, because, despite sometimes booing, baseball fans are the most wonderful hodge-podge of people around.
Like Tim Pinkard who attended his first Houston Astros game on Tuesday and caught Chris Carter’s home run ball. And, then caught another Chris Carter home run ball. Watch it here.
Here’s to the fans. The managers may be the brains. The players may be the brawn. But, fans are the heart … and without them … well, there’s no $9 million payday for Joe Nathan is there, Joe?
“I do love … the baseball that is in the heads of baseball fans. I love the dreams of glory of 10-year-olds, the reminiscences of 70-year-olds. The greatest baseball arena is in our heads, what we bring to the games, to the telecasts, to reading newspaper reports.” ~ Stan Isaacs, Newsday sports columnist (1929-2013).
Fans on the hill. Davenport Field, University of Virginia
Richmond Flying Squirrels, The Diamond, Richmond, Virginia
7th Inning Stretch, Orioles Park at Camden Yards, Baltimore, Maryland
Cardinal Fans at Camden Yards, Baltimore, Maryland
Orioles fans at Camden Yards, Baltimore, Maryland
Beverly brings “Francisco The Flying Squirrel” to nearly every Flying Squirrels ballgame. (It “stands” during the national anthem and the 7th inning stretch.) The Diamond, Richmond, Virginia
___________
Here’s more …
Fan-Tastic, Part 1 ~ Our grandparents were bad (and dangerous) baseball fans.
Fan-Tastic, Part 2~ Today’s rules of proper fan behavior. Bring your miniature horse to a game? Okay. How about a grapefruit? Not okay.
Fan Photos: Davenport Field, Charlottesville, Virginia. Oriole Park at Camden Yards, Baltimore, Maryland. The Diamond, Richmond, Virginia. 2014
“Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.” ~ Mark Twain
I was feeling pretty good about capturing last night’s “supermoon.”
Then, Mr. I’m-A-Very-Smart-Astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson had to go and spoil it.
Thanks for bumming out my moon photos.
So here.
Not-So-Supermoon-afterall.
And, here’s a cow with the Not-So-Supermoon.
Here are lots of cows stampeding past the Not-So-Supermoon, becoming Ghost Cows in the process.
Not-So-Supermoon, feelings hurt by the rudeness of Astrophysicist, packs it in and heads for the clouds.
We spent Sunday’s pre-Supermoon daylight hours in Baltimore at the Orioles-Cardinals game (three-hour drive – each way – for those of you who wonder just how dedicated I am to baseball).
Here’s Super-Pitcher, But Not-Quite-So-Super-Today Kevin Gausman.
Here’s Rookie Catcher Caleb Joseph. He homered in each of his last five games, a club record for catchers.
Today?
Not-so-super. And, no home run.
Here’s Ever-Reliable Super Right Fielder Nick Markakis.
Still super.
Although 4-for-5 at the plate, he scored only twice, once thanks to a wild pitch. Thanks for nothing, rest of team.
“At the ballpark or even in front of the television, fans are, for the interlude of a few hours, different from whom they are in everyday life. … In the drama that is a baseball game the fan imagines himself not a spectator but a participant, as if the fervor of his rooting will have a bearing on the outcome.” ~ John Thorn, Official Historian of Major League Baseball
Sometime in the 1880s or so, newspapers started to mention baseball “fans” and “cranks” and “rooters.” Before that, who knows what they called the men (and they were mostly men) who would sit and watch the other men (and they were mostly men, too) play baseball.
Ty Cobb unkindly called fans “bugs,” but he didn’t have a good word to say about anyone.
Umpires might argue that today’s fans can be rowdy at times, but all in all, fans are a pretty good bunch.
We’re certainly nowhere near as rowdy as our grandparents and great- and great-great grandparents who went to games and shoved their way onto the outfield, or, if the weather was hot, would bully players out of their dugouts and take over the benches in the shade.
— SDN-006846, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum. (1908)
Police hold back the rowdies at Chicago’s South Side Park on April 14, 1908. The White Sox will defeat the Detroit Tigers 15-8. (And, look at that trash!)
Cranks would fight with other fans, the umpires, and the players. They would throw bricks. Today, I pack my scorecard, maybe some peanuts. Back then, fans would pack bricks and guns, along with their sandwiches and moonshine.
Players would climb into the grandstands and beat up heckling fans. Fans would jump onto the field and clobber a player or ump.
Games were forfeited because fans were jerks.
Ahh, the good old days.
I have been known to complain at games if the person next to me is bogarting my cup holder. (Yours is on the right, Bozo.) Back then, I’d have been lucky to get through the game without losing an eye.
I recently asked a policeman at Oriole Park at Camden Yards what the hardest part of his job was and he said catching the underage drinkers who all sit together in the upper deck on student nights. (Yes, fans today are so well-behaved even the bad ones cooperate by sitting together.) Other than that, he said, he got paid really well to walk around for a few hours, maintaining the peace and watching the game.
So sure, a few bad fan eggs. But, without us there would be no baseball. We are the 10th player. We pay the salaries. We are irreplaceable.
That’s why teams have Fan Appreciation Days and lavish gifts on us to lure us to the park – caps and shirts and seat cushions. Bobbleheads that are supposed to look like certain players, but usually don’t. Garden gnomes that are supposed to look like certain players and sometimes actually do.
Sure, it’s cheap crap, but fans will line up for hours – HOURS – to get our swag.
Nick Markakis Bobblehead? Horrible. Did Helen Keller design this? Socks down! Socks down!
Wilson Photo: by CBL 62, via Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 (2011)
Brian Wilson Garden Gnome? Awesome.
Every baseball fan is a great fan. Even if you don’t know a balk from a walk, and can’t name your team’s starting pitchers, you’re still all right in my book.
But, some are just a tiny bit all righter. Here are three of them.
On Friday night, the Baltimore Orioles defeated the Seattle Mariners 2-1 in 10 innings. These fans were at Seattle’s Safeco Field.
1) Happy Homer.
Who cares if your team just gave up a go-ahead run, you just caught the freaking home run ball! Good for you, happy Mariners’ fan. Your team will lose because of that run, but at least you didn’t spill your beer.
(For the record, if you catch a home run ball, keep it. Even if it was hit by the opposition. You may think you’re some hero by throwing it back on the field in disgust, but really, we just think you’re stupid.)
This Orioles fan sat in a sea of Mariners on Friday night.
Editor/Husband thinks the guy lost a bet. I think he’s just a very good fan. Sure, he kind of looks uncomfortable and maybe just a little sad. But, at least he didn’t have to worry about being hit on the head with a brick.
First off, there’s that napkin. The rally napkin. If you don’t have a ball cap to twist or turn to spur your team’s late-inning rally, then you get creative. This kid stuck a napkin on his head. Because, hey, why not?
Well, whatever it was, it didn’t work. Mariners second baseman Robinson Cano – the would-be tying run – was called out to end the game after a challenge.
The rally napkin folded like a … a … a napkin.
Ten innings that kid sat through. The tying run is on first and then, suddenly, he is gone. His team has lost. He is not happy. I love him. I could watch him all day. (He comes at the 1:52 minute mark. He’s worth the wait.)
They call a double play in baseball “turning two” which is poetic and beautiful. And, that is what a double play is.
It is often a ballet, seemingly effortless, but dependent upon practice, instinct, poise, and power. If you’re lucky, it will also include a pirouette.
Double plays can make brilliant poetry.
These are the saddest of possible words:
“Tinker to Evers to Chance.”
Trio of bear cubs, and fleeter than birds,
Tinker and Evers and Chance.
Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,
Making a Giant hit into a double.
Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble:
“Tinker to Evers to Chance.”
~ Franklin Pierce Adams, New York Evening Mail, 1910
(Oh, go ahead, look up “gonfalon.” I’ll wait.)
The trio of shortstop Joe Tinker, second baseman Johnny Evers, and first baseman Frank Chance played together for the Chicago Cubs from 1902 to 1912.
Don’t let it trouble you that Tinker and Evers admittedly hated each other, once got into a vicious fist-fight on the field, and didn’t speak to each other for several seasons.
And, don’t let it trouble you that they didn’t “invent” the double play … or turn a record number … or were even particularly good at it. Just accept that some folks become legends because of good writing or good timing.
Dickey Pearce, who played in the 1860s and 70s, is thought to have turned the roving “short field” position into the more territorial shortstop position that we know today, and, in doing so, may have invented, or developed, or, at least, refined the double play.
Public Domain image.
Dickey Pearce is the one in the back. Dig those uniforms!
Historian Brian McKenna believes that Pearce’s double plays included intentionally dropping routine fly balls, allowing for easy outs as the runners on base hesitated while waiting to tag up. He is why we have the infield fly rule today.
(Dickey Pearce also invented the bunt, so he is kind of, sort of the Thomas Edison of early baseball.)
The double play is my favorite thing in baseball, unless my team is batting.
In 1949, the Philadelphia Athletics turned 217 in a single season, the most ever.
The Baltimore Orioles have “turned two” 107 times this season, leading all of baseball, and are on pace for 175.
This is both a testament to the Orioles’ defensive abilities and an admission that one can’t “turn two” unless one has already put at least one on.
(Thanks, pitchers.)
And, speaking of “turning two” …
This blog turns two this week.
In the past two years I have churned out 118 posts. This is slightly more than one a week which surprises me, since I should be doing useful things each week like cleaning out the basement and resealing the kitchen countertop.
But, apparently, I am not doing those things. I am doing these blog things.
That you have stopped by to read this (when you probably should be cleaning out your basement and resealing your kitchen countertop) is quite kind of you. Thank you.
WordPress says that “tens of thousands” of blogs are created here every day.
People who count these sorts of things estimate that the vast majority of those blogs will be abandoned within one month.
So, I’m feeling rather sassy about my 118 posts.
When I was in fifth grade I decided I would be a writer. At the time, I just wanted to write about tigers.
I regularly wore out the ribbon of my dad’s typewriter until my folks got me my own typewriter for my 12th birthday (manual), another one for my high school graduation (electric), and a third for my college graduation (a strange Tron-like thing that I still have, but never used; I didn’t have the heart to tell my mom that no one was really using typewriters anymore).
I ran out of tiger storylines somewhere around junior high. Then I decided I would be the next Dorothy Parker. I went through a Eudora Welty phase. And, then I decided to become a girl Thomas Boswell.
This is not to suggest that I am THE Baseball Bloggess, although I am because I have the URL to prove it.
It is mainly because my friends who travel goose my stats by checking my blog from exotic, far-off places like Brazil, Croatia, Nepal, Pakistan, and Tunisia, and so I have been known to say that I am a “world famous baseball bloggess,” even though I am not.
But, I like to write. And, I like to write about baseball. Occasionally, Yoga. But, mostly, baseball.
Here’s to “turning two.”
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A special thank you to my occasionally irascible, but always wonderful, Editor/Husband who watches baseball with me, and really, truly does read and edit these posts, and makes them infinitely better (most of the time). If I screw up a fact or mess up on grammar, it’s my fault, not his.
The Baseball Bloggess 