Luke was at Camden Yards in Baltimore last night. He brought this sign.
O Yeah! Luke & his Orioles Beast of the East sign.
Between every inning and half-inning, Luke stood up and held up his sign trying to get the attention of the camera people so that they would show his sign on the Jumbotron in Center Field.
Luke is awesome. He never faltered and he never lost hope.
Never faltering and never losing hope are incredibly important qualities for any true baseball fan.
Luke told me that his mother actually made the sign – not him. “I slept in,” he admitted.
This is another important quality for a true baseball fan: pacing. The understanding that night games can often run into the wee hours requires the ability to catch a few extra snooze minutes whenever possible.
Luke cheered and clapped, and every time the public address system yelled “Charge!”, Luke yelled “Charge!” Absolute joy for baseball and the Orioles.
Luke’s favorite player? Orioles third baseman Manny Machado. Manny didn’t play last night – he’s out after season-ending knee surgery last month. But, Luke didn’t dwell on that disappointment.
The only thing that mattered was the game at hand.
And, don’t think that Luke’s cheers weren’t heard.
Last season, Baltimore Style Magazine asked Machado if he was aware of the crowd when playing. He said:
“Totally. … [Y]ou can always feel the energy. You hear people in the background. It’s gotten really loud in Baltimore lately. I love it.”
It was loud last night.
Even when the Red Sox got off to a fast 2-0 start.
But, did Luke give up hope? What do you think?
Final Score: Baltimore Orioles 7. Boston Red Sox 2.
Fan of the Game: Luke.
Photos: Oriole Park at Camden Yards. Baltimore, Maryland. September 20, 2014
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.)
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.
I’ve lived in Virginia for decades now. (If you add up the decades I’ve lived in Virginia you will discover that I am somehow much older than I think I am.)
My dad came to visit once. (Which, to be fair, is one time more than my mom, but she had her reasons.)
They lived in North Dakota and I was very excited when my dad decided to fly out.
I had just bought my first place – a condo on the Virginia side of Washington, DC. He came to paint the walls and do the fix-ity things that dads do with their amazing certainty and rightness of purpose that is unique to dads everywhere. Every dad project was a teachable moment, but, really, all I wanted was to make sure the pink walls in the bedroom were painted over.
And, I wanted to show him around and show off my world.
Which didn’t really turn out all that well.
He wasn’t impressed by Washington, its Capitol or White House. He was annoyed by the traffic and all the people. He wasn’t impressed by any of the historic buildings all along our day drives. Blue Ridge Mountains? Sure, OK. He was moderately impressed that the Cuban restaurant offered Philippine beer.
He was truly impressed by only one thing. The trees.
“Damn, kid, I’ve never seen so many trees,” he said as I drove him around.
He said it as if I was somehow responsible for covering up a lot of otherwise good farmland with all these unproductive trees. He wasn’t disappointed. He simply thought it was funny, in the same way he thought a lot of my life choices were “funny”, as in “Well, I would never do that, kid, but it’s your life.”
When he got back to North Dakota, the only thing he told my mom and his friends was that we sure had a lot of trees in Virginia.
He never saw the farm where we ended up.
And, damn, he’s right. We do have a lot of trees.
We have so many trees that I wonder how the sun even reaches the ground some days.
We have three pecan trees. (Yes, they DO grow in Virginia, people, so stop telling me they don’t.)
This Japanese Maple that came as a sapling from Montpelier, James Madison’s home.
And, a Rose of Sharon. (More bush than tree, I guess. I thought it was only a girl’s name in Grapes of Wrath until I moved here.)
The winter did this to one of our magnolias …
I know, I know, they’re not supposed to grow here either.
Is it dead? I don’t know, but look what I found on one of its branches this morning …
Editor/Husband plants trees like many people plant marigolds. This is his “Tree Garden”:
I think I’m much more like my mom than my dad. But, there are a couple things about my dad that carried into me.
My dad loved basketball and football with the same passion that I love baseball. (“You didn’t get baseball from me, kid.”)
He gave me a love of politics and beer. Bad puns, bawdy jokes, and Bugs Bunny and Road Runner cartoons above all others.
And, he loved taking pictures.
He had a couple cameras that were good enough. He would take and develop so many photos that he was probably the reason the little camera store in Devils Lake, North Dakota lasted as long as it did. When my father died a few years ago, I went by the store to tell the owner and he seemed truly sorry. The shop closed not long after and I think the loss of my dad’s business was part of the reason why.
My dad wasn’t a very good photographer, but it made him happy.
He liked to take pictures of tractors …
farmyards …
squirrels …
and, his kid …
Now, come to find out, I carry that gene, too. I’m not a very good photographer, but it makes me happy.
Before today, I knew just three things about Nebraska:
1) They have the only unicameral legislature in the country.
2)Carhenge is there(and I once forced Editor/Husband to go there and he got me a tee-shirt).
3) The College World Series is played every year in Omaha.
I’m sure Nebraska’s a very nice place, and despite a strong argument that inventing Kool Aid is pretty awesome, I think my Top Three list hits the high points.
(Editor/Husband would like me to point out that Bob Gibson, Rex Barney, Gregg Olson, and Sloppy Thurston are all from Nebraska, and I shouldn’t be so fast to close the door on interesting facts.)
But, this post isn’t about Carhenge (which means many of you will just stop reading now).
It’s about this: the University of Virginia Cavaliers will be playing in this year’s College World Series which kicks off this weekend.
To join the seven other teams in Omaha, UVa first had to emerge from a weekend regional tournament (where they beat Bucknell once and Arkansas twice) and last weekend’s Super Regional best of three against the University of Maryland Terrapins.
Editor/Husband and I went to every game.
Look, it’s us!
It came down to Game 3 on Monday night against Maryland. And, at the risk of burying the lead, which I’m afraid I’ve already done, this happened at 10:17 p.m.
Followed by this …
Followed closely by this …
You can see the dogpile ballet in slow motion here.
You can see the team climbing into the bleachers with us here.
You can almost see me.
A recap of the Virginia/Maryland weekend:
UVa lost Game 1 on Saturday.
It was during that especially hot and humid day game that I nearly succumbed to heat exhaustion. I’m not kidding. I almost passed out. It took two bottles of Gatorade before the field stopped spinning. My face was covered in a thin layer of grit which I later discovered to be salt that my body had leached completely out.
Editor/Husband was impressed that despite my weakened state, I was still scoring the game on my scorecard.
This conversation really happened:
ME: If I die you’ll need to write something on my blog to let people know I’m dead.
E/H: OK. Amanda* can help me with that.
ME: Tell them I died at a baseball game, it will make a better post.
E/H: OK.
* Amanda knows raptors and, apparently, Word Press.
Rehydrated, I rallied for Game 2. So did UVa.
And, it came down to Monday night’s Game 3.
Happy Hoo. Unhappy Terps.
FUN FACT: The University of Virginia Cavaliers are known informally as the Hoos, which is short for Wahoos. Back in the 1890s, baseball fans at Washington & Lee University called UVa’s baseball fans a “rowdy bunch of Wahoos.” The name stuck. (UVa didn’t become the Cavaliers until the 1920s.)
You can see University of Virginia take on Ole Miss in the first round of the College World Series this Sunday, June 15, on ESPN2 at 8 p.m. EDT.
If you do, you’ll likely see this guy …
All-American Pitcher Nathan Kirby
And, these guys …
Shortstop Daniel Pinero and First Baseman Mike Papi
Pitcher Nick Howard
Third Baseman Kenny Towns
Third Baseman/Designated Hitter John LaPrise
Right Fielder Joe McCarthy
Left Fielder Derek Fisher
“Fish” threw a lot of foul balls into the stands this weekend. I nearly caught one.
She caught it instead.
And, this is Wyatt.
He goes to almost all the UVa home games and sits just a few rows down from us.
Wyatt’s either happy the Hoo’s are winning or happy that his mom just bought him some ice cream.
Probably both.
Go Hoos!
Photos: University of Maryland vs. University of Virginia, June 7, 8, and 9, 2014, Davenport Field, Charlottesville, Virginia
“Never forget, there is a heartbeat in this game.” ~ Joe Torre, former player & manager (Baseball Hall of Fame, 2014)
Here’s Grant.
Yesterday, Grant turned four. And, all he wanted to do for his birthday was to play some ball with his dad at the nearby baseball diamond.
We were nearby, too. We had just transported and released a spotted turtle to a lakeside just a few blocks away.
(Click here for Part 1 and relive the spotted turtle adventure.)
Just as we were driving off, I saw the baseball diamond.
“Let’s stop here,” I said to Editor/Husband when I spotted the diamond. Or, maybe it was something more like a shouted, “HEY! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU??? STOP!!!” just to make sure we didn’t drive too fast, too far away.
And, that’s where we found Grant and his dad. Playing ball.
Grant would like you to know that he is a Washington Nationals’ fan and Bryce Harper is his favorite player.
Grant has the swagger of a big leaguer. He knows how to swing the bat,
knock the dirt off his cleats, and dig into the batter’s box.
“When I hit the ball, I do want to hurt it.” ~ Bryce Harper, OF, Washington Nationals
He’s got pretty good speed for being only four, and the sort of youthful stamina …
… that runs out every home run full-tilt as if it was a thisclose inside-the-parker.
He can slide feet first whether he needs to or not.
And, his very first head-first slide into home is documented here.
When pitching, he has an intimidating stare …
… an unorthodox pitching style that occasionally includes standing behind the rubber …
… and the confidence to shake off the catcher whenever necessary.
“I’m really trying to be a pitcher out there. I’m not trying to light up the radar gun all the time.” ~ Stephen Strasburg, P, Washington Nationals
As for fielding …
“A player running the bases shall be out, if the ball is in the hands of an adversary on the base, or the runner is touched with it before he makes his base; it being understood, however, that in no instance is a ball to be thrown at him.” ~ The Knickerbocker Rules, 1845.
Well, they’re working on that.
“I just like to play the game.” ~ Ryan Zimmerman, INF, Washington Nationals
Happy Birthday, Grant.
You’re why I love baseball.
(Oh, and P.S. I know you love the Nats and all, but couldn’t you just give the Orioles a try?)
Photos: Saturday, May 24, 2014, Fawn Lakes Baseball Diamond, Spotsylvania, Virginia
There are some people in my world who believe that all I do on weekends is baseball-baseball-baseball.
That is laughable.
(Not as laughable as the Orioles-0, Indians-9 game today. Really, boys? Really? It’s CLEVELAND!)
No, not everything is baseball.
Take today for instance.
I released a turtle.
Look who came to our house!
Editor/Husband (when he is not editoring or husbanding) works at the Wildlife Center of Virginia, a wild animal hospital.
He’s often asked to cart animals around, picking up patients and, once they’re healed up, returning them to the wild. (He does other stuff there, too, but at the end of the day people only want to hear about the time a bear cub nearly got loose in his Outback.)
Sometimes Editor/Husband’s car will smell a little weird, like a possum family might still be living in there, waiting for a road trip to the Sonic.
(Fun Fact: Sonic really does put jalapeño chunks in its chocolate jalapeño milkshake. I’m still not sure how I feel about this.)
Last night, he brought home a spotted turtle, a rather rare species. It had been hit by a lawnmower about a year ago and its shell had been badly injured. Shell-healing is, not surprisingly, slow-going for turtles.
Here’s what you need to know about spotted turtles.
They can have up to 92 spots on their upper shell, head, neck, and legs. Ours is disappointingly light on the polka-dots, although I didn’t think to count.
A turtle’s upper shell is called a carapace. Our turtle has a dark chin and brown eyes – which means he is probably a male. Some experts have described the mating habits of spotted turtles as “frantic.”
A spotted turtle can live to be 50, if he is careful and stays off of roads and out of the way of lawnmowers.
The Wildlife Center releases its healed-up reptile patients as close to their original homes as possible. This is especially important for turtles who have some sort of “Home Sweet Home” software wired in their brains that makes them serious homebodies.
Which is kind of funny if you think about it, since turtles carry their homes on their backs like little RV campers. Come to find out, they don’t even really like going anywhere.
Their shells hold all their worldly possessions. (Turtles travel light and their shell, some insides, four legs, a head and a tail, are pretty much it for worldly possessions, but if they had stuff, I suspect they’d just cram it into their shell, like we cram mints, spare change, keys, iPhones, and shopping lists into our pockets.)
So, we took turtle back to his original “home.”
This turtle, we discovered, like the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, had been living the good life in a very pretty gated community, filled with pretty homes ringed by perfect gardens and swimming pools and walking trails and country clubs and tennis courts.
Turtle had chosen well. I wish someone would release me there …
We found a quiet little side lake for the turtle …
… away from the road and lawnmowers and away from the lady who was afraid we were releasing baby geese into the lake and came running over in a panic to tell us how the geese were pooping on her lawn.
Poopers.
We showed her the turtle and she calmed down.
“Oh, I like turtles.”
Turtles, apparently, have a prozac-like effect on some people.
So we opened the box, and set turtle on the bank.
And, off turtle went.
All wet and swimmy and happy, I guess. Turtles keep a pretty good poker face. But, if I was a turtle, healed up and free and back home in a nice gated community, on a lake filled with pollywogs and geese, on a beautiful sunshiney Saturday, I’d probably be a pretty happy turtle …
Even if some of the hospital stick-um from my shell-healing was still on my back.
__________
Wait, really, no baseball? …
And, just as we are pulling out to leave the pretty gated community with the swimming pools and tennis courts and … hey, wait a second … stop the car!!!! What’s that over there?
For 17 hours this week, the Baltimore Orioles led the American League East. Ahead of the New York Yankees. Ahead of the World Champion Boston Red Sox.
It was a nice 17 hours, although, truthfully, several of those hours were in the middle of the night when I couldn’t really enjoy it fully.
They say one shouldn’t live in the past, but I hope you won’t mind if I just …
May 2, 2014
What a whirlwind, crazy, exciting ride it was.
The Orioles promptly lost their next two games.
No more number one.
(I believe at one point today as the Orioles were losing to the Minnesota Twins I said they “suckity suck suck.” This is the clever kind of thing that baseball fans say when they’re being betrayed by the players they love.)
There is a week that comes in every baseball season, when a private, quiet kind of panic begins to set in for fans of teams that are not number one.
This is that week.
A week ago, Editor/Husband and I went to our first Orioles game of the season. (Yes, it is a six-hour round-trip drive. He is the best.)
The scrappy Orioles played the equally scrappy Kansas City Royals.
We lost 9-3.
But, the sun was shining. 3,500 Little Leaguers were there. I took these pictures. So really the day wasn’t a total loss.
Here’s Orioles Pitcher Chris Tillman out by the bullpen. Four days later, against the Pirates he would throw 49 pitches in the top of the first and walk in two runs. The Orioles won anyway.
And, as a big fan of the bullpen and relief pitchers, I’m delighted to see they’ve dressed up the place with flowers.
These are ducks just behind center field.
These are Little Leaguers. More than 3,500 of them paraded around the ballpark before the game. It took more than an hour. The Orioles said “hi.”
Once again, I am besieged by protective netting. Let’s play “Guess The Infielder!”
Gold Glove Shortstop J.J. Hardy.
Second Baseman Steve Lombardozzi.
It’s a trick! It’s Right Fielder Nick Markakis playing first base, subbing for the injured Chris Davis.
Obligatory bullpen shot. Hi fellas, stay warm!
Orioles backup catch Steve Clevenger, born in Baltimore in the nearby neighborhood called Pigtown.
This is a kid who’s excited to be at a baseball game. He is a wide-eyed innocent who believes in his team and in a world that is just and fair.
This is a kid whose favorite team is rolling over to the Royals. I think he’s aged a bit this afternoon, and from here on out every smile will be tinged with just a hint of sadness.
Shortstop J.J. Hardy knew that if he stopped mid-game to pose for my photo he would get to appear in this post twice. Congratulations, Mr. Hardy.
OK, maybe it’s too early to panic.
We’re number two.
Photos: Oriole Park at Camden Yards, Baltimore, Maryland. April 27, 2014.
The Baseball Bloggess 