Category Archives: Baseball

In Praise Of The Bullpen

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“The two most important things in life are good friends and a strong bullpen.” ~ Bob Lemon (Cleveland Indians Pitcher, 1941-1958. Manager of the Royals, White Sox, & Yankees.)

What’s the difference between my good friends and the Orioles’ bullpen?

None of my friends melted down on Monday night. (Also, not as much spitting. Thank you for that.)

The Baltimore Orioles’ bullpen fell apart Monday night in Arizona. (It’s was a pitchfork-hot 108 in Phoenix yesterday, but that was nothing compared to the meltdown inside Chase Field.)

One by one the Oriole relievers came out to the mound. One by one, they gave up runs. Tying runs, go ahead runs, tying runs, go ahead runs.

Finally, with the game tied in the ninth, Darren O’Day, the trusty sidearmer, came out, threw one ball – just one lousy pitch. Emphasis on lousy. Homerun. Game over.

Oh sure, we all have bad days. But, I’m grateful that I don’t have thousands of people peering over my shoulder, second-guessing, and jeering when I have mine. It’s a gift, I think, to endure a bad day in the shadows … where no one can see you sulk.

The Orioles weren’t the only team with a leaky bullpen last night. By the end of the night, there were three blown saves recorded in that game. THREE. And, only one belonged to the Orioles. The Diamondbacks won, despite two blown saves from their relievers.

So, a bad night to be a reliever.

Baseball fans say that a lot.

But, instead of jeering and heckling and second-guessing, I’m here to praise the bullpen. The Orioles bullpen. Every bullpen.

Next to Umpires, the most thankless job in baseball.

It’s where starting pitchers are punished. A few bad outings, a few hinky pitches, and a starting pitcher is banished to the ‘pen. One is seldom “promoted” to the bullpen.

(And, how about the use of “hinky” in a sentence? I should stop right now.)

It’s where mascots are crammed together, squeezed in tight with the relievers, as they await a race around the warning track.

??????????

If you look carefully, you can make out the AA New Hampshire Fisher Cat relievers in the bullpen trying to ignore all the mascots.

It’s where Minnesota Twins’ relievers spend a year patiently waiting for that one brief perfect moment to prank the cameras. Oh, come on I know you want to watch … here.

Twins punchout

It’s where pitchers catch homeruns in their caps.

It’s where rookies carry backpacks filled with candy and snacks. (What else is there to do while you wait for your starting pitcher to fall apart?)

sean doolittle

MLB.com @Cut4 via Twitter

A’s Reliever Sean Doolittle’s Twitter Bio says this: I get to play baseball with my friends for a living and sometimes they even let me be pitcher for an inning!

It’s where no one ever gets to be hero and everyone is the goat eventually.

When you come in from the bullpen and fail, most likely you’ve cost your team the game. Even the greatest bullpen pitchers will fail from time to time. (Yes, even Mariano Rivera.)

They will be booed and heckled. Mercilessly. By the time they come into the game, your nastiest hecklers are already well into their cups … many, many beers to the wind. The more beer, the louder and stupider the heckle. It’s a fact.

When bullpen pitchers succeed, when they hold the lead, you won’t hear a word. The batters will be rewarded for scoring plenty of runs. The starting pitcher will be lauded for not letting a game get away. The bullpen? Hey, they were just doing their job.

Remember Jay? My new favorite thing to do is bounce ideas off of him. So, Jay, what do you have to say about relievers?

It is the nature of the role that relief pitchers make you nervous. The term “relief” implies you aren’t the real thing — you are on standby in case something happens – i.e., a relief valve. That is why relief pitchers got no respect at all until they invented euphemisms to class them up — thus, the “closer” – sounds important; “set-up guy” – sounds tricky; “long man” – actually sounds superfluous, but you get the idea.

There are a lot of things that can go wrong in a game. My Editor/Husband will moan like a cat with a hairball whenever a bad play unfolds. But, when the bullpen gets lit up, that’s when he gets really animated. (“Animated” is sort of like heckling but without all the beer.)

A position player can strike out once or twice in a game. But, as soon as he does this … all is forgiven.

crush landing

A starting pitcher can have a tough first inning, but somewhere tonight in America a broadcaster will say, “He’s settled down from a shaky first.”

Bullpen pitchers don’t have the luxury of a shaky first.

So, the Orioles bullpen had a bad night. But, they’ve had plenty more good nights.

So, yay, for the bullpen.

And, relievers everywhere.

For Moe Drabowsky, the wacky prankster. For Mike Marshall, who in 1974 became the first reliever to win the Cy Young (and in true quirky reliever fashion actually became a big league pitcher simply because he wanted to study pitching arm injuries for his PhD.)

And, for every reliever who has had a bad game … or blown a save (or two or seven). Rest up, guys, because we’ll need you to be ready to try again for us tomorrow.

I was wrong. I’m sorry.

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Last month, I wrote about potato chips.

I was actually writing about baseball’s All-Star Game and fan voting. (Click here to review.)

But, really, all you cared about was the potato chips.

That’s ok. Blog posts are funny that way.

So, to recap: America voted for their favorite potato chip flavor. The choices were:

  • Cheesy Garlic Bread
  • Sriracha
  • Chicken & Waffles

When Cheesy Garlic Bread won, I complained that Americans had voted for bread as an appropriate potato chip flavor. As far as I was concerned, this ridiculous choice meant that Americans shouldn’t be allowed to vote for anything.

(You all should have voted the Orioles’ Nick Markakis into the All Star Game, too. You should be ashamed baseball voters.)

Nicks glove

Here’s Nick’s Glove.

homerun robber

Here’s comes the baseball.

nick here it is

There goes the homerun. Sorry, Texas.

Watch it here.

But, here’s the thing. I learned about the contest after it was over. I never saw the flavors in my store. I never tried them. I merely decided, based on common sense, that bread was a horrible flavor choice.

Many of you commented on the post, and no one had seen or tasted any of the flavors.

Today, all three flavors magically appeared along a wall in my grocery store.

chipsinstore

They weren’t there last month. They weren’t there last week. (My Husband/Editor would like to point out that last month and last week are the same thing. But, you get my point.)

I gasped. Maybe I yelped. I might have been a bit too loud. I don’t remember. I was overcome with emotion.

They were on sale too. So, on that alone, let’s go with yelp.

Finally, America, I could taste for myself.

But, before I do, let me say this.

I don’t ask for much from professional athletes. Show up on time. Don’t cheat. Do your best. And, be nice to the fans. If you’re a funny or witty interview, so much the better; I’ll let a few bad games slide. If you rescue shelter animals, help out in your community, and support local charities … hey, you had me at “rescue shelter animals.”

Oh, and don’t lie.

And, if and when you get caught lying or cheating, here’s what you do. It’s pretty easy.

Say “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

And, let the healing begin.

So, I write this post today for the potato chip fans of the world and for Alex Rodriguez, the beleaguered New York Yankee who awaits the decision of Major League Baseball – will he be suspended or banned for life from the game he loves because he cheated by taking performance enhancing drugs and lied about it?

I was planning to write a long (boring blah-blah-blah long) post about how I’m starting to feel sorry for the guy, because many sportswriters and bloggers and such seem to be bullying him a bit, piling on, and reveling in his misfortune. We seem awfully quick to end his career, while letting other cheaters slide with, perhaps, lesser suspensions and the glimmer of redemption.

Cheaters need to be suspended and baseball needs to clean up its game. But, let’s not be bullies.

But, then the potato chips came along.

StevieChips

Magnificent!

I’ll taste them. Discover that I was wrong, that Cheesy Garlic Bread is not only an acceptable flavor, but an absolutely mind-blowingly delicious one.

Americans were right after all!

And, I would admit it. I would say, “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Alex Rodriguez has said many times (most recently in this week’s Sports Illustrated) that he wants to be a role model.

So, here I would be, right here on this blog, standing as a proud and honest role model for A-Rod.

What if he sees this, is moved by my emotion and honesty? What if he finally says, “I was wrong. I’m sorry.” How cool would that be?

But, then, I tasted.

And, you know what?

Cheesy Garlic Bread potato chips?

Suck.

They kind of, sort of taste like garlic bread, in the same way that freeze dried ice cream, kind of, sort of, tastes like ice cream.

So I was right all along. Potato chips should not taste like bread.

Sriracha? Doesn’t really taste anything like Sriracha. More like a barbeque potato chip with a garlic kick and a sassy chili zing. But, not bad. So, I was right about that, too.

(You’re on your own with the Chicken & Waffles chips. They actually have real chicken in their flavoring. There’s not much real in a flavored potato chip, so I’m as surprised as you by this. I’m a vegetarian … so, chicken in my potato chips? No way.)

Unfortunately, America, I was right.

Which is incredibly vindicating. But, not so good for the point I wanted to make today.

But, while I was right about this, I have been wrong about other things.

I once said that Bobby Bonds was in the Hall of Fame. He’s not. I was wrong. I’m sorry.

I once told a telemarketer who called me at home that I was the housekeeper and couldn’t take their call. I was wrong. I’m sorry.

I once tried to slip the word ausperous past an online scrabble game. I was wrong. I’m sorry.

I made up that last example. I was wrong. I’m sorry.

See, it’s easy.

I hope that Alex Rodriguez figures that out.

Because, how can I forgive you, if you won’t apologize?

Go Squirrels.

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Nathaniel Go Squirrels“I like to play happy. Baseball is a fun game, and I love it.” ~ Willie Mays

Willie Mays is my favorite SF Giant.  Because … because, of course he is … I don’t have to explain that to you, do I?

Play happy.

I love that.

I saw the Richmond Flying Squirrels play on Sunday (they’re the Giants’ AA team).

And, that’s where I saw Nathaniel and his sign.

Baseball isn’t about cheaters and liars and those who dirty up a pure game with bad behavior and boorishness.

Baseball is about playing happy. And, Nathaniel. And, his sign. (And, possibly his brother too, over there on the right, who reminds you that sometimes you’re not that happy about a baseball game.)

The Richmond Squirrels and the Bowie Baysox, the Orioles’ AA team, played to a 5-5 stalemate Sunday, when the skies opened up in the 10th and the game was suspended. They’ll finish it another day.

Play Happy. Go Squirrels.

Baseball, Barn, Life … (and me)

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When I first started this blog one year ago (happy birthday, blog!) I thought that the slow, simple, and beautiful game of baseball reflected the same energy that I experience on my Yoga mat.

Simple on the outside, but intricate and complex and insanely sweet on the inside.

Deep, yeh?

But, now I’ve realized that the slow, simple, and beautiful game of baseball is also a lot like the barn that we are building …

the barn july 19 13

… and building …. and building.

And, the second half of the baseball season …

And, the second half of the barn building …

begins now.

Our old barn served us well. It had been a good old barn for many decades before we turned up. The previous owners probably used it as an actual barn. We used it as extra storage for items that didn’t mind that it listed a bit to the north, the wood was worn thin, the walls were porous, and it rained as hard inside as out.

It’s hard to say goodbye to a good old barn. In the same way, it’s hard to say goodbye to baseball players as their better days, their greatest games, fade.

I still miss Cal Ripken.*

Cal

But, hope springs eternal.

And, just as spring training got underway, we started a new barn.

Now you see it …

??????????

Now you don’t …

??????????

And, as the baseball season has worn on, so has the barn building.

The barn’s been slowed by paperwork and rain delays.

It’s been slowed by crew members being traded to new teams, being put on the DL, or just plain disappearing.

But, it’s coming together.

And, as the second half of baseball begins, our barn project continues, too.

Still waiting for a roof.

rafters

And, some walls.

barn july 19 13

But we saved the old barn door and it will be put up inside somewhere.

barn door

A place of honor in our barn “Hall of Fame.”

Time moves forward for barns and baseball.

We’ll have a new barn.

And, Manny Machado.  (You gotta watch this …)

Manny july 13

And, the World Series will come. And, the Orioles will be there. And, the barn will be awesome.

I’m sure of it.

My amazing Barn Dude – the Player-Manager of the Barn Building – will tell you that the barn is well beyond halfway. It’s well into the playoffs. This is good for us since it means the barn will be a real barn before October. (Barn Dude’s not a baseball fan, but he remembers seeing the Red Sox at Fenway. What is it with all these Red Sox fans in my world?)

*And, Billy.

Free Baseball: “I Hate The All Star Game” Edition

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“I disliked the All Star Game before it meant something (like most of my life). Now that it ‘means’ something I both hate it and think it is useless.” ~ our friend Jay

Who hates a vacation? Our friend, Jay.

Baseball is a 162-game, six-month undertaking. (Eight months, if you count spring training and if you are good enough to make it to the post-season.)

Tucked into that stretch is a four-day break that includes the All Star Game. That little baseball vacation begins Monday.

Our friend Jay is a Red Sox fan. He hates the All Star Game because it temporarily stops the “real” baseball season. But, he does have lots of very good qualities, too.

I am pretty sure that I am a baseball fan because of him. I sat next to him at the very first major league game I attended. It was some 25 years ago.

I have been pestering him with baseball questions ever since.

He always responds. Patiently. Kindly. Wisely. (If you ask him how to throw a screwball, he will provide detailed instructions. If you ask about baseball broadcasters he will rate nearly every one. The Red Sox broadcasters are ranked quite highly, incidentally.)

Jay plays. Jay watches. Jay knows a lot about baseball.

Occasionally my questions stir him up.

Like when I asked about the All Star Game.

For me, I like the mini-vacation. I like watching the All Stars (especially when five of them are Orioles). It’s a long season; I don’t begrudge the players a tiny break at this mid-way point.

But, Jay thinks …

Well, here, he’ll tell you …

Baseball is an endurance contest — 162 games in six months. And then, in the middle of that we give players (making $16 million or even a paltry $1 million) four days off to go fishing and rest up? What’s that all about?
…

The greatest thing about baseball is that they play every day (and sometimes twice — in what other sport do they say ‘Let’s play two’?) But, no, the All Star Game says, “We pause from this important season to bring you this unimportant game.” (And, no, having it determine home-field advantage does not mean this is for real. If it was for real Clayton Kershaw would pitch seven innings.)

…

The touchstones for me for baseball are the “Morning Question” – how did the Sox do last night? – and the “Afternoon Question” – who is pitching tonight? I look for the box scores in the paper every day. How many games up (or behind) are we? … All winter I wait for baseball season to start so I can go through my daily baseball rituals — and then in the middle of July they stop it.
…

[Former Red Sox] Manny Ramirez’s grandmother used to “die” each year at All Star time so Manny could go home to grieve with the family. My attitude is like Manny’s Granny’s – “Who cares about the All Star Game? Nothing important is happening so I might as well die again this year.”

(Jay is exaggerating … but here’s the back story on Manny. And, here.)

…

The best thing about baseball is that there is a game every day, so let’s play. (That is why I hate days off, rain outs, and All Star Games.)

These are just the highlights. Jaylights.

But, I’m feeling sort of bad that Jay will have to endure the next four days without baseball while the rest of us are watching the Home Run Derby (Monday) and the All Star Game (Tuesday).

So, here are some things that can pass the time until the season begins again on Friday:

1) Watch NY Giants Pitcher Carl Hubbard strike out Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and Jimmy Foxx in order. It was 1934 at the Polo Grounds. It was the All Star Game. Watch it here.

hubbel2asg

Or, watch Babe Ruth hit the very first homerun in the very first All Star Game in 1933. Watch here.

2) Explore the arts. Mike Carmichael of Alexandria, Indiana has been painting a baseball – coat by coat – since 1977. The baseball now has more than 23,000 layers of paint and weighs more than 4,000 pounds. If you visit, he’ll let you paint a layer on the ball. See it here.

painted baseball

Photo courtesy of Mike Carmichael

Perhaps the baseball in your garage is artwork in the making.

3) Learn a second language. Orioles outfielder Nate McLouth speaks fluent Spanish, allowing him to chat easily with his Latin American teammates and give interviews to the Spanish-speaking press. While most foreign-born players must learn some English to get by in the game, very few American players take the time to learn their teammates’ languages. Nate es maravilloso. Click aquí.

McLouthSpanish3

4) If you can’t watch baseball, play it. In Nicaragua, baseball is El Deporte Rey, the king of sports. NPR’s Only A Game recently had a story about a camp in Nicaragua that allows boys and girls a chance to slip away from the hard realities of poverty for a week of baseball. “[T]his chance to play on a real field coached by a real professional will make a beautiful memory. And even in wealthy countries, beautiful memories aren’t easy to come by.”  Listen here.

nicaragua camp

Jay is my baseball guru (except for that Red Sox thing). He has a blog too. Although he only updates it when he goes to baseball camp each winter. He should keep it up year-round. Visit it here and pester him to write more.

geezer baseball

Jay’s Blog.

Enjoy the All Star Game (or not). “Real” baseball resumes on Friday.

 
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4th of July Baseball!

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“[I]t is good to see health-promoting exercises taking the place of insipid enervating amusements.” ~ The Washington Star reporting on a baseball game in Washington, DC in 1860

Oh, Washington Star, you have no idea.

No idea what “insipid enervating amusements” your great-great-great-great grandchildren will come up with. No idea.

We name our children North West, for heaven’s sake. You really have no idea.

But, you’ll be pleased to know that baseball is pretty much the same.

(Sure, some teams play indoors on fake grass, some under glowing swaths of electric lights, and some won’t even let their pitchers come to bat anymore. Players come from all over the world. And, it’s no longer a whites-only game. So, ok, times have changed a bit.)

While baseball’s beginnings go back much further, it was the Civil War that helped turn baseball from a regional, neighborhood pastime – complete with myriad, often vague, sets of rules – and into a pretty standardized game.

baseball with union prisioners 1863 salisbury nc

Baseball game between Union prisoners at Salisbury, N.C., 1863. Lithograph of a drawing by Maj. Otto Boetticher. Courtesy of the National Archives

That game, base ball, helped pass time during wartime and was taken home across the nation into peacetime.

andrew johnson

President Andrew Johnson

It’s said that President Andrew Johnson was the first sitting President to watch baseball games during the 1860s.

“Johnson indulged few recreational activities [but] he came to appreciate baseball, which was well on its way to becoming America’s past time. On occasion, the President took time to watch pickup games organized on the South Grounds of the White House,” according to Jeffrey K. Smith in The Loyalist: The Life & Times of Andrew Johnson.

(Thank you to my friend Gloria, a diehard Cubs fan, who actually read that book and brought the baseball quote to my attention. And, thank you to my Editor/Husband who said it was also important to mention that then-Vice President Johnson was drunk at Lincoln’s second inauguration.)  

By the 1920s baseball’s place in our nation was clear. It was, President Calvin Coolidge declared, “our nation’s game.”

All 30 major league teams are scheduled to play today … all decked out in the stars and stripes.

Each team will wear special “Independence Day” caps.

Like the Baltimore Orioles.

os stars stripes

And, the New York Yankees. (I am sharing the Yankees cap with you so I can take this opportunity to report that the Orioles swept the Yankees last weekend. Go O’s!) yankees stars stripes cap And, the Cleveland Indians. indians stars stripes cap Wait. That can’t be right, can it?

Yes, Major League Baseball apparently thought it would be appropriate – possibly even cute – to paint Chief Wahoo in the stars and stripes. I’m not even comfortable writing this.

But, hey, MLB, we all make mistakes. And, so, here’s the new Cleveland cap you’ll see today.

final cleveland stars stripes

There. That’s better.

And, if you’re a Toronto Blue Jay? Fear not, no stars and stripes for you today. Your maple leaf is quite fetching!

blue jays stars stripes

So, tip your cap today to the sport that is our “nation’s game.” Chances are, you’ll be tipping a baseball cap (but hopefully not that Chief Wahoo one).

And, have a happy Fourth of July!

Free Baseball: Dekes & Dogs Edition

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Free Baseball – the extra innings that come when a game is tied after nine. Today, three extra innings. A beautiful deke from a high school pitcher, the furriest bat boy in baseball, and the simplicity of baseball among the Amish.

10th Inning ~ Deke Out!

I love a good deke. That’s when a player fakes out a base runner by pretending to have – or not have – the baseball. When an entire team is in on the ruse … even better!

With the game tied in the 7th, Pitcher Wyatt Short of Southaven High in Mississippi turns to pick off the runner on second. His throw sails into the outfield. Or does it?

Click here to watch.

11th Inning ~ Dog Days

Some historians say that baseball descended from the ancient games “One Old Cat” and “Two Old Cat.”  The Cat games used pitchers and batters just like baseball, so maybe?

It seems odd, though, that a game that may have evolved from a game of Cat could be so dog crazy.

Teams invite dogs to join their people at “Bark in the Park” games, offered by more than a dozen major league teams, as well as tons of minor league teams, every season.  (Here’s the 2013 list.)

stevie closeup

(Sadly for Stevie, baseball has no “Purrs In The Park” days.)

Being a fan is easy for a dog. Growl at the umpires, bark at every base runner, and sniff around under the seats for hotdog scraps. Really, how hard can it be?

But, put a dog to work at a game – now that’s something!

Chase the Golden Retriever has been the official “Bat Boy” of the Trenton Thunder (a Yankees’ Double A team) since 2002. Now 13, Chase is retiring and will fetch his final Thunder bat on July 5.

Chase Bat Dog

Click here for Chase’s story.

And, click here to watch him do his bat boy thing!

12th Inning ~ Baseball With The Amish

For baptized Amish adults, baseball is forbidden – sinful and unnecessary, like iPads, zippers, and central air.

But, for the young Amish, who have yet to be baptized and renounce their sinful ways, baseball is alive and well.

The Amish kids don’t know much about performance enhancing drugs, or All Star scandals, or million-dollar salaries. Their game is free of all that baggage. Just throw the ball, hit the ball, and find a way to get home.

Kent Russell wrote an interesting piece on baseball in Amish country for the The New Republic in March. Click here.

New Republic

“Cheesy Garlic All Stars”

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Here’s what I can tell you about American voters.

We’re the country that brought you Warren G. Harding and Taylor Hicks. We’re the country that decided that Cheesy Garlic Bread is a better potato chip flavor than Sriracha. I kid you not, Sriracha lost. What is wrong with people?

cheesy garlic

So, voting aptitude is probably not our strongest suit as a nation.

(Really, America, you chose BREAD as a potato chip flavor!)

On Friday I posted my belief that a baseball All-Star should be based on something more than just numbers and on-field statistics.

Because, you can lead every single offensive category … every single one … you can be on pace to hit 200 home runs, steal 100 bases and, when necessary, play all nine positions in a single game, while nursing a stress fracture in your leg … but if you failed baseball’s drug test, publicly talk smack about your teammates, or for some strange reason believe that bread is an acceptable potato chip flavor … there is no way … NO WAY … you will ever earn my All-Star vote.

stevie votes

Has there been a year when someone didn’t complain about the All-Star roster?

No. Every single year someone, somewhere complains.

I have no basis for that statement.

But, I stand by it anyway, because … well, hey, prove me wrong.

Fans began voting for the starting lineups of the All-Star game in 1947. It didn’t take long for energetic fans to get to stuffing. It came to a head in 1957 when Cincinnatians – with the help of their local newspapers, Kroger Grocery stores, and neighborhood taverns – accounted for half of all the votes cast that year.

The result – Reds won seven of the eight starting positions for the National League. Only the Cardinals’ Stan Musial squeaked through the “Red Curtain.” Commissioner Ford Frick ultimately pushed two Reds starters aside to make way for Willie Mays and Hank Aaron. (The American League won 6-5, despite a valiant 9th-inning rally that began with an RBI triple by Mays, who then scored on a wild pitch.)

57 all star program

And, Frick took away the fan vote.

Fans elbowed their way back into voting in 1970. And, back to stuffing.

** In 1975, the Milwaukee Brewers (owned at the time by current Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig) were said to have encouraged a single fan who was determined to vote Robin Yount and/or George Scott into the starting lineup. The fan was aided, he said, by the Brewers front office which provided him with some 30,000 paper ballots. The fan used a power drill to punch his ballots at a rate of 4,000 an hour. (All that drilling led to naught, although Scott went as a reserve and the American League won 6-3.)

** In 1999, in the early years of online voting, Boston Red Sox fan Chris Nandor cooked up a computer program that allowed him to vote nearly 40,000 times for his favorite Red Sox, including Shortstop Nomar Garciaparra. His stuffing worked and Garciaparra started. (Derek Jeter went as a Reserve, but probably hasn’t lost much sleep over it.)

** In 2012, the San Francisco Giants took heat for encouraging their fans to vote and vote and vote. Angry non-Giant fans suggested the computer geniuses of Silicon Valley were all Giants fans and were shamelessly hijacking the online voting system. Others pointed out that Giants’ AT&T Park offers free Wi-Fi, making online voting at the game way too easy.

And, who was the unfit All-Star starter in 2012? Giants Third Baseman Pablo “Panda Bear” Sandoval.  How’d it work out? Panda Bear was one of the stars of the game that night; his three-RBI triple helped lead the National League to an 8-0 victory.

No, I don’t like cheaters. But, I don’t see why teams shouldn’t encourage their fans to support their favorite players.

I’m confident that the All-Star game will include the best that baseball has to offer – based on statistical achievement, as well as intangible “nice guy” criteria that I think is the difference between a great player and an All-Star.

Because, really, I mean, what’s worse? Buster Posey starting at Catcher for the National League next month or the fact that only 57 percent of eligible voters voted in last year’s presidential election?

Can’t decide? Let me help you out. The presidential voting thing is worse.

But, the Cheesy Garlic Bread potato chip vote is pretty bad, too.

________________________________________________________

UPDATE!! The potato chip debate is not over. In August, I got the chips … and here’s my post on the taste test. Click here.

And, here’s more from me on All Star Game voting: From “Half Star to All Star”

Wondering what to do during your All-Star break? I’ve got you covered: Free Baseball: “I Hate The All Star Game” Edition

voteorange4

From “Half Star” To “All Star”

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Good thing no baseball purists will ever see this. Their seamy-heads would get all steamy-headed.

Just us Cool Cats.

Voting for the Major League Baseball All-Star game is underway.

With just a few weeks to go, preliminary voting results for the American League and the National League have been released by Major League Baseball, leading to the annual hand-wringing of purists who bemoan that fans are – gasp! — voting for their favorite players, not necessarily the most statistically accomplished ones.

What was it that one blogger called All-Star voters? Oh, I remember! We are “Stupid.”

(Purists don’t vote, of course, but they delight in grumbling about the choices made by the “Stupids.”)

Go ahead, call me Stupid.

AllStarShoes

I may be Stupid, but my shoe thinks I am an “All Star,” too!

I vote. I vote online (35 times, which is what they allow). I scoop up a few extra ballots at the games, take them home, punch the chads, and send them in.

And, I admit it, I’m not voting for players based solely on statistics. There are plenty of awards given for accomplishment in baseball – MVP, Cy Young, Silver Slugger, Gold Gloves all recognize personal achievement. Trophies (and paychecks) galore!

Good numbers make you a “Half Star.”

But, for me, being a good sportsman, a good representative for your team, and other “nice guy” attributes elevate you to “All” Star.

The Baltimore Orioles, as always, are MY All-Star team.

And, this year, they are doing very well – from numbers to “nice guys.”

Orioles are League Leaders in many categories, including home runs (Chris Davis), doubles (Manny Machado), and team fielding. Yay!

I’m sure your favorite team has sweetened the voting pot. The Baltimore Orioles are offering discounts on tickets to online voters. They’ll even enter you into a contest to win an autographed Orioles All-Star jersey.

Here’s what you do: 1) go to orioles.com/voteorange. 2) Vote 35 times (for any players you like) 3) Win the autographed Orioles Jersey 4) Wrap it up neatly and give me the greatest birthday gift ever. (October 20, by the way.)

Baseball’s just a game afterall. And, it’s played for the fans. (That’s why they invented bleachers and Bobblehead Giveaway Nights.) You’re darn right, we deserve a vote.

But, don’t worry, Purists. We Stupids won’t ruin it for you. The All-Star game will be filled with worthy players, just as it’s been since 1933 when Babe Ruth homered in the very first one.

Every team will have at least one player there. Eight percent of baseball’s 750 players will wear an All-Star jersey this year.

We “Stupids” only vote in the starting lineup – a mere 26 percent of the 68 players who will make the trip. Players and managers will choose the vast majority of the roster, including all of the pitchers.

The deserving players will be there.

Fans have been voting for baseball’s All Stars since 1947, more or less. Baseball took away fan voting after Cincinnati Reds fans – in cahoots with their local newspaper, Kroger Grocery stores, and neighborhood taverns – brazenly stuffed the ballot box in 1957.

reds ballot 57 top

Fans got their right to vote restored in 1970.

If you want to vote for a player because he tossed a foul ball to you up in the stands, or signed your nephew’s cap, or takes part in community service programs in your city, do it.

I don’t think your vote is going to deprive the Tigers’ Miguel Cabrera or the Reds’ Joey Votto from going to the game.

An All-Star is much more than a line on a box score.

After all, nearly every single purist and odds-maker crunched the numbers last October and predicted with absolute certainty that the Detroit Tigers would win the World Series. The SF Giants swept ‘em, by the way. So, who’s Stupid now?

The All-Star game on July 16 also means something – since 2003 the winning league gets home-field advantage in the World Series.

Vote for YOUR All-Stars.

But, if you’d like to vote an All-Oriole ticket, and give Manny Machado and Chris Davis and the boys from Birdland some love, you have my blessing! www.orioles.com/voteorange

voteorange4

Bhakti, Cicadas, & Jim Johnson

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OK, first off, somebody Googled “life is meaningless and everything dies” yesterday and somehow … for some insane reason known only to the Internet … was directed to my blog.

Really? Really??? I’m very disappointed in you, Google.

For the record, life is NOT meaningless (not even for the Miami Marlins), but yes, in fact, everything does die eventually.

In Yoga there is a path called Bhakti – the Yoga of devotion. It’s one of the simplest paths of Yoga because there are no special instructions to guide it. The practice is simply seeing, feeling, experiencing, and honoring the divine in yourself, in others, and in the world around you. You know, the divine (life force, meaningful goodness, or God or the Goddess … take your pick here).

Seeing and honoring the divine in a beloved friend, a beautiful flower, or a joyful cat is a pretty easy way to rock the Bhakti path.

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Hi, Stevie!

But, isn’t that a bit too easy?

Seeing the divine in the heart of an annoying person, in something ugly or frightening, or in a difficult experience … now that’s Bhakti.

Here in Virginia, thousands upon thousands (upon thousands) of other-worldly cicadas have made their way up out of the ground. They’ve left their crunchy outer shells (or carcasses, if you will) all over, including dozens on my porch.

Here's a cicada, ready for anything!

Here’s a cicada, ready for anything!

After 17 years underground, they emerge like randy Rip Van Winkles to mate. Yes, finally old enough to mingle at the frat house mixer conveniently located in my elm tree.

They are known mostly for the ethereal mating song of the male – something that sounds strangely like spaceships landing in a low-rent sci-fi movie. You can listen here.

They make that sound by flexing their bellies which vibrates little bongo drums in their abdomen. (I’m not kidding. Wing rubbing is for sissies.)

The sound is considered beautiful and alluring to female cicadas. When a thousand of them get their drums going, it can get pretty loud and can go all night (which, again, seems rather frat-like). What may make a female cicada swoon can be incredibly annoying for humans.

Not to mention the fact that cicadas are rather large – 2 or 3 inches – are related to locusts, have translucent wings and enormous, kinda creepy red eyes. (They also make a terrible squishing sound when you accidentally step on one … and with thousands of them lounging on your porch, it’s bound to happen.)

It’s hard to love a cicada (unless you’re a chicken; they and other animals find cicadas to be buttery and delicious).

I dedicated the Yoga classes I taught this week to the cicada – which meant lots of core work (to activate our own abdomens), deep breathing (after 17 years underground I would think they’d appreciate some fresh air) and a lot of stretching out of the earth and out of our shells. (People were on their own for the mating thing …)

I just wanted to send a little love to the cicada. Very cool little locusts, if a bit ugly. I wanted to honor the sweet divine that rests within them, in the same way it rests within all of us.

So, Bhakti for the cicadas!

And, Bhakti for Jim Johnson, beleaguered Baltimore Orioles closer.

Jim Johnson

He blew three straight saves (as part of a six-game Orioles losing streak) in recent days.

It’s no fun watching your All-Star closer toss up batting practice and lose games in the bottom of the 9th that you thought were won.

It’s 10 p.m., the game’s winding down … you have a comfortable one- or two-run lead, time to get ready for bed. And, Jim Johnson comes out to the mound, gives up a meaningless hit (just to make things interesting) and then shuts them down. Old Reliable Jim.

We turn off the TV and go to bed happy, with dreams of the World Series in our heads.

But, when things go bad for Jim Johnson, my Editor/Husband yells at him. “Oh, no. Oh, no. No, no, no!”  Things went very bad this week.

I’m sure my husband knows that Jim Johnson can’t actually hear him. I’m pretty much the only one who can. (Well, the cats hear him, too, but what can they do? They can’t even bunt.)

It’s when players have rough games or go through a slump that you have to look beyond an external bad day to see through to the goodness within.

So we decided (and by “we”, I mean “I” decided) no more yelling at Jim Johnson. Only positive support. (Yeh, I know, Jim Johnson can’t hear that either. But, the house is more peaceful, so … progress.)

After all, we all have bad days. We all have slumps. But, it doesn’t define who we are.

On Tuesday night, Jim Johnson came out in the 10th inning and shut down the Yankees 1-2-3. So, he’s coming around.

Even when things are bad, or when people let you down or disappoint you, or strange-looking locusts crawl out of the ground to make noise and mess up your porch … you can look for the sweetness, the goodness, the divine, within. That’s Bhakti.

Seeing and honoring the divine in your loved ones is a good start. Extending that recognition to others in your world, even the ones you don’t know or you don’t understand, takes a bit more work.

It’s worth the effort.

And, life isn’t meaningless.