I Never Meant To Cause A Fuss

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

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

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

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

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

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Unassisted Triple Play!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NPR: Frank Deford on Performance Enhancing Drugs

You Can Make It Simple … Or Not

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, here you go.

Also from last night.

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

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

A little circus music might be a nice touch.

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

One Wild & Precious Life

Oscar is my cat.  He’s 20.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s never too late to start again.

So …

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

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

Cheaters Never Prosper (except when they do)

Et tú, Melky?

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

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

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

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

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

ESPN: Palmeiro Docked 10 Days For Steroids

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, some people get caught.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rewards far outweigh the risks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I just don’t know.

The Easiest Way Around The Bases …

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, here’s Earl on home runs:

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

From Here On In, This Blog’s For You …

What is it about blogs that so many of us feel that we have something new, unique, magical, and quippy to offer the world?

I’ve discovered in writing this that I’m just one of hundreds — probably thousands — of people with the same love of baseball and the urge to share it on blogs, on message boards, in tweets.  And, sadly, most of them have far more interesting insights than I do.

This annoys me.   Even though no one is reading this … except for my husband, who serves as Editor and Yankees Fan for this blog (Hi, Honey!).  Still, I was hoping to channel some amazing Dorothy Parker moments here.  (She’s buried in Baltimore, you know.)

Then, in talking to a friend about her important role in my baseball education — she taught me to score games — she sent me a story about HER love of baseball.

And, dammit … HER story, and how her love of the St. Louis Cardinals was kindled, was way more interesting than my baseball background …

“As a teen, I would grab my brother Jim, who cared nothing for baseball, we’d head out to Northland shopping center and catch the Tri-State Bus down to the old Busch Stadium — pay $2.00 each for a bleacher seat and I, at least, would buy a program and score card. I was a geek — sitting with my pencil behind my ear and scoring each at-bat.”

Then she proceeded to tell me about the amazing bond that baseball was between her and her father.

And, so now I think … I’m not very interesting … and I probably don’t have anything much interesting to add to the baseball mix.  (Well, aside from an unshakable loyalty to the Baltimore Orioles and the fact that I became a true baseball fan in 1988 not in spite of the fact that the Orioles started the season 0-21, but BECAUSE of it.)

But, while I’m not very interesting,  I have some VERY interesting people in my life.   And, some of them love baseball, too.

And, maybe this blog might be better used, if I share some of their stories, too.

Oh, don’t worry … I’m not that humble.  I’ll still give my story.  But, I think I’ll be overshadowed by my friends.  There’s Amy, who loves the Cardinals, and Jim Johnson (not the pitcher) who is either a Twins fan or a Red Sox fan, or both.  And, lots of other folk who have that same kind of passion.

So, this blog might be a treat for me — a chance to write about baseball.  But, from here on in, I rag nobody.  Whooops, wrong baseball line.  From here on in, this blog’s for all the baseball fans in my life.  (And, who knows, I might even give them the link to the page … some day.)

5-4-3, Triple Play!

It’s an even greater thing of beauty when it looks … effortless.

From last night’s game … A’s – Twin’s.

5-4-3 … Triple Play!

Embedding a video into a temperamental blog?  Not so effortless.  But, it should take you to the clip.

Do I Tweet, Do I Call, Do I Just Watch?

I was watching an Orioles game the other day.  On television.  And, after a couple innings I went and got my Droid (no iPhone for me, I like to be a contrarian), and started following the comments from people who were at the game and “tweeting” about it.

And, I wasn’t sure.  Was that a good thing?  Or just a noisy distraction?

After all, some of the tweeters had some nice observations.  Some were even based on statistics and facts.

So perhaps it made my game-watching experience a bit richer.

Still, it’s always so strange to look out into the crowd and see so many people with their heads down.  They aren’t even watching the game.  They’re watching their emails, texts, and tweets.  They’re talking on their cellphones.

Oh, sure, a few hardy souls are scoring the games, counting pitches, and creating their own pencil-marked treasure trove of statistical data.  They’re allowed to have their heads down from time to time.

But, do you know how many videos exist of people catching foul balls while talking on their cell phone?  Trust me … a zillion.  But, I like these two guys best … because they’re a nice contrast.

First, meet Mr. Excited … he’s an A’s fan and had two chances at a foul ball.  A’s Fan Catches Foul Ball While on the Phone.

Now, here’s Mr. Ho-Hum … he’s a Twins fan who has somehow let a foul ball interupt his phone call.  I like the “Oh, yeh, hey, no big deal, I do this ALL the time,” smile at the end.   Twins Fan Catches Foul Ball, Keeps Talking

Part of what first drew me to baseball was the ability to cocoon yourself inside the stadium, away from the stresses and challenges of real life.  A whole new world was inside.  No one can find you, unless you want to be found.  The grass is always lush and green (and, nowadays, real!).  A perfect view of the field.  A crazy array of food and drink — and someone willing to bring it right to your seat!  A giant mascot running around.  And, three hours … or more … of nothing to do but watch a game on a lazy day.

So, it’s kind of sad to see my cozy baseball sanctuary invaded with smart phones and tablets and other distractions.

In that respect, I’m a purist.  Or, I’m boring and a bit twee.

But, then again … I’m the first person to watch a video of something zany that happened at a game and that a fan was quick to capture on their phone.  (The streakers earlier this season at Baltimore games?  Banned from television, but, yeh, I watched ’em all on YouTube.)  And, the tweeters often see things that the cameras don’t catch.

In which case, I’m a hip, techno-saavy Droidster.

Oh, and here’s one of the streakers.  Although, as you will see, the term “streaker” is fairly loosely defined here, since he neglected to take his pants off.

I guess I’ll just be happy to walk the middle way — as Yoga always reminds us, being balanced is best!  So, yay, for the purists who enjoy the true “getaway” from the world that a baseball game offers.  And, yay, to those folks who share their games with those of us on the outside.

And, yay, for that A’s fan who finally caught a foul ball!